CHAPTER XXI MAROONED
"Can't you hold her, Dick?"
"Is there anything we can do?"
Paul and Innis shouted their questions at their chum, as he sat at the wheel, guiding the ponderous car on its perilous way. Every stone that could be avoided Dick steered away from, yet to make too much of a swerve, he knew, would be disastrous.
"I'm afraid—it's getting—away from me," he called through his clenched teeth. "The emergency brake is broken, and the others don't seem to hold."
"Can't you put on the reverse?" asked Innis.
"It would only strip the gears. I guess we've got to chance it, boys!"
A man ran out at the foot of the hill, dancing up and down near the approach to the bridge, and waving a red handkerchief.
"Are you going to try the bridge?" shouted Paul.
"I don't see how I can help it," replied Dick. "If I turn into the ditch we'll sure upset."
"Maybe the bridge is stronger than they think," suggested Innis. "It looks all right."
"That's the way with those country bridges," said Paul, bitterly. "They never keep 'em in repair, and even a heavy truck may go through. It's a shame!"
"Well, get ready for something, fellows!" said Dick, grimly. "Do you want to jump?"
"I guess it's the only thing to do," declared Paul. "There's grass on both sides of the road, and we can't be much hurt. You go first, Dick."
"No, you fellows try it. I've got to hold this wheel. The minute I let go this auto is going to be like a wild horse, trying to climb the first tree in sight. Jump, while I hold her steady. Then I'll take my chance."
"I'll steer for you," offered Innis, gallantly.
"No, let me!" insisted Paul.
"I tell you I'll stick to my machine until she smashes!" cried Dick, sharply. "You fellows jump while you've got the chance. I'll try and hold her until she gets to the bridge, and then I may be able to land in the water. Go ahead."
"It's a shame!" cried Paul. "To see this dandy car go to smash."
"It can't be helped," replied Dick, sadly.
Paul opened the door on one side, and Innis on the other. They got in good positions to make their leap. The man on the bridge was still waving his signal of danger, uselessly it seemed, for the big car was headed straight for the structure.
Dick gave a sharp glance ahead, and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Then he called out, hoarsely:
"Wait a minute, fellows! Hold on! Don't jump yet! Maybe there's a way out yet!"
"How?" yelled Paul.
"See! There's a ford at one side of the bridge!" and Dick nodded his head toward a place where the road over the structure branched off, dividing; one side going down a slope into the stream of water, and up again on the other side, to join the highway past the bridge. This path was used by those who wished to water their horses, or swell their dried wagon-wheels. It was also a ford in case the bridge was out of commission for heavy loads, as at present.
"What's your game?" cried Innis.
"I'm going to try to send the auto down that ford-road," replied the young millionaire. "It's soft and sandy. If I can make the change the soft dirt may clog the wheels enough, and slacken our speed, so that we can get over the creek safely. It's worth trying—in fact, it's the only thing we can do. Hold on!"
Nearer and nearer to the bridge thundered the big car. The man with the red handkerchief had leaped out of the way now, fearing the collapse of the structure. But Dick did not intend to trust himself to the weakened beams and king-braces.
Narrowly watching the road where it forked into the ford, or crossing, Dick swerved the steering wheel ever so little at a time. A sudden change in the course, he knew, would mean an overturned auto, and possibly serious injury to all of them.
"That's it! That's the way to do it!" cried the man who had waved a warning. "The water isn't very deep!"
"I hope not," murmured Dick. "Hold hard, boys!"
With tense face he watched the path before him. His hands were gripped on the steering wheel so hard that it seemed as though he had no fingers at all—as if they were all in one. The car thundered on. It vibrated and trembled. The brakes that had been set—exclusive of the broken one—were bringing forth a shrill protest from the axle bands.
"I—I guess you'll make it, Dick!" shouted Paul.
"It won't be from lack of trying, anyhow," agreed Innis.
Though he and Paul had come partly back into the car they were still ready to leap in case Dick's plan miscarried. But it seemed likely to succeed.
There was a sudden twist to the steering wheel, and the Last Word swerved dangerously. Paul and Innis clutched the sides. Then they saw that the auto was on the short slope that led down to the water. Dick had made the diversion in safety—so far. What would happen when he struck the stream, with its uneven bed, was a matter of conjecture.
But the deep sand of the slope leading down to the water was already having its effect. No better brake could have been devised than that clinging material.
"She's slacking up!" cried Paul.
"We're all right!" added Innis.
Into the water splashed the big touring car. A shower of spray shot up on either side. The machine was slackening speed. Dick was beginning to relax his grip on the steering wheel, and his chums breathed easier.
Then, with a jolt that threw them all forward in a heap, the auto seemed to strike some obstruction in the bed of the creek.
It careened to one side, so that they feared it was about to topple over. Then it righted itself, surged forward, and came to a groaning stop in the middle of the water, stuck fast in the cloying mud that formed the bed of the creek.
"Safe!" exclaimed Paul.
"Not a bone broken!" added Innis.
"But we're marooned!" murmured Dick, gloomily. "It will take ten horses to pull us out of this mudhole. Hang the luck!"