The Auto Boys' Quest

by James A. Braden

It was Friday night—the very evening on which a certain quartette of other lads had selected their permanent camp in the western edge of the Ship woods. Tom Pickton thought much of them, wondering where they were and what progress they might have made by this time with the mystery of the "three stones" as he lay gazing at the stars.

Very fearful was Thomas that ere their stopping place could be discovered and their movements investigated, he would be too late—too late to learn the secret of the Auto Boys' Quest. Or if not, indeed, too far behind them to discover the real purpose of the lads' expedition, at least too late to do some possibly successful exploring on his own account. For this, particularly, did Pick have in mind. If there was hidden treasure to be found, he had the right, he considered, to locate the same if he could do so.

But Tom fell asleep at last resolving only for the present that an early start must be made next morning and no pains spared to trace definitely the movements of the young motorists whom he knew to be at least two days in advance of the Roadster. And this resolution he carried into prompt action.

It was just sunrise when he arose. Freddy Perth responded instantly to his call. Gaines still slept and was left undisturbed while a tiny gasoline stove was excavated from the depths of a bale of baggage and breakfast preparations started. Perth had a long walk to obtain water, but returned bringing some fresh eggs the kind farmer's wife had offered him, as well; and when Soapy was at last summoned to arise he found coffee boiling and the morning meal just ready.

A night's rest had improved the temper of the genial Mr. Gaines, temporarily, at least. Although indulging in a deal of growling over the lack of bathing facilities, which were, in fact, noticeably wanting, he "felt like a lark." At least he said so, and perhaps he did. For a creature of that description could hardly be expected to lend a hand at packing baggage away, pumping up a tire from which considerable air had escaped, or anything of the kind; and certain it is that Soapy did not.

The day's running of the Trio was through a wealthy farming section. Often they stopped to inquire if the Auto Boys had passed that way, and, as the well-loaded touring car and its four youthful passengers had been noticed by many, they found in this well populated region no want of information. Even after the pike was left behind and a sparsely settled section encountered, it was still no task to learn at one poor dwelling or another the direction the Auto Boys had traveled and the time, even to the approximate minute, when they had passed.

The sight of an automobile was not a frequent occurrence in these parts. The way the horses shied here, in contrast with the little heed they gave the machines nearer the towns, was sufficient proof of this. The people, too, had paid vastly more attention to the touring car, as they also looked much more curiously at the Roadster here than had been the case on more prominent thoroughfares.

So did the three lads find their spirits rising. Or, it might be more accurate to say, so did two of them make such observation; for when the prospect of simply crackers, coffee and cheese for lunch developed, Mr. Soapy Gaines sank into a sullen rage which continued until evening. He was like a volcano during such periods—smoldering constantly, but emitting flame and fury at quite frequent intervals.

If any of the boys still seriously considered their flight from Gouger's stable as likely to make them trouble, they did not show it. Fully believing their captor to have been a properly authorized officer, they understood their offense in escaping him to be much more serious than the mere charge of exceeding a speed limit would be. Once Fred suggested that it would have been better to have submitted to the arrest and paid their fine, that they might have proceeded on without fear of further molestation; but to this there came from Gaines so violent an eruption, in answer, that he pursued the subject no further.

Very well did Fred know, however, that at any point along the road, at any spot, whether they might be in Queensville or at the races, at any time of night or day, the charge "fugitives from justice," might have to be faced. Perfectly well did Pickton, also, understand this to be the very unpleasant situation, though he grew boldly confident such complications would not arise as Sagersgrove fell farther and farther to the rear.