The Motor Maids Across the Continent Read online

  CHAPTER II.--PETER.

  They put the young man on the back seat between Miss Campbell andElinor, while Mary climbed in front and shared Nancy's seat besideChauffeur Billie.

  "Where do you want to go?" asked that responsible young woman, waitingto start the car and addressing the aeroplanist over her shoulder.

  "I'm on my way West."

  "So are we," interrupted Billie.

  "If you put me down at any convenient place along the way, I'll be verymuch obliged. I'm going all the way to San Francisco."

  "But so are we," cried the girls in one voice. "We're going across thecontinent."

  The young man smiled for the second time, a charming smile whichradiated his entire face and seemed to kindle two warm fires in hissteady brown eyes.

  "In this?" he asked.

  "Why not?" Elinor was saying, somewhat on her mettle, when a motor cycleshot past them, stopped abruptly and a man jumped off and waited besidethe road, signalling to them to stop the car.

  "Pardon me, but may I ask if you saw an aeroplane fly past a littlewhile ago?"

  Before Billie, generally the spokesman, could reply, the young strangerbroke in:

  "We saw one, but it is out of sight now."

  "Ah? Then it didn't fall. I thought I saw it drop. It looked very muchas if he had lost control, but I was too far away to tell."

  The man waited, but the four girls and Miss Campbell remained discreetlysilent, and the wrecked aeroplanist leaned out and looked up skyward, asif he were searching the heavens for the lost airship.

  "Although aeroplanes are not very apt to fly about in great numbers,"went on the man sarcastically, "I see you are not very observant whenthey are about. I bid you good-day," and touching his cap with his handlike a salute, he leaped on his motor cycle and sped down the road in acloud of dust.

  "Dear me," exclaimed Miss Campbell, "what a crusty individual! But whynot have told him?"

  "Because he happens to be my rival," answered the young man. "You see, aprize has been offered for the one who flies across the continent fromSan Francisco to Chicago in the shortest time. Most of the aeroplaniststhink the prize is too small for the risk, and so far only a few haveentered. This fellow, Duval, doesn't want any rivals, and he has doneeverything he could to disqualify me for the race. He didn't recognizeme, because he's only seen me in leather clothes with goggles and a capon. You see, I decided at the last moment this morning to fly westwardas far as I could. I suppose I am a good deal like the Irishman who waschallenged to drink a pail of beer, and went into another room and drankone first to see if he could."

  "But now you have no aeroplane," observed Nancy sadly.

  "I have two. The other one was shipped to San Francisco. Duval has agreat many reasons for keeping an eye on me. He wants to find out whatkind of machine I'm going to use. I have kept that a profound secret,and he wants to know how good I am at flying. You see, no one has everheard of me. I have never been to any public meets. I have onlypractised--at--at our place."

  "But," interrupted Miss Campbell, "do you think you will be able to dothis tremendous thing? Remember what you must cross? Not only the RockyMountains but the desert."

  "It's just as easy to fly over a desert as over a prairie," answered theyoung man. "Not long ago a man flew from Italy over the Alps. If Ihadn't sneezed this morning, I might have been sailing across theIllinois boundary this afternoon and been well on my way into Iowa."

  Miss Campbell and the girls regarded him curiously. He appearedexceedingly self-confident and very sensible, but that sneezing businessseemed a little thin.

  "Do you mean to say," cried Billie incredulously, "that you expect tofly across the country without sneezing."

  "I hope so," he replied. "It's a dangerous thing to sneeze in any flyingmachine, although the one I intend to use is of much finer make thanthat thing which just broke down."

  Suddenly Nancy began to laugh.

  "I believe you are guying us," she said.

  The young man flushed.

  "It would be a nice return for your kindness."

  "Don't be offended," put in Elinor. "She's only teasing, herself."

  It was now getting on toward noon. The crisp morning air had sharpenedtheir appetites and it was agreed to stop at the next village for lunch.In half an hour they had whirled into the main street of aprosperous-looking middle-west town.

  The motor guide book directed them to Snyder's and they presently pulledup in front of a large frame building painted white with green shutters.On the front piazza sat a number of men in armchairs, their feet on therailing, smoking and reading the morning papers.

  Before they had time to get out, the aeroplanist said to Miss Campbell:

  "I am deeply obliged to you for your kindness. My name is Peter VanVechten. May I have the honor of asking your names?"

  There was quite an old-world courtesy about this Peter Van Vechten thatappealed to the little lady, and she promptly introduced her girls andherself.

  Just at this moment a small racing car could be seen coming toward themat a terrific speed. People and vehicles scattered at its approach, butjust before it reached the Comet it stopped short and a man jumped outand ran to them.

  "All right, Jackson," said Peter Van Vechten. "I suppose you got windthat the aeroplane was wrecked and had a fright."

  "I did, sir, indeed. But a farmer had watched through his glasses and hesaw you get into a motor. Thank heavens, you're safe, sir."

  "Through the kindness of these ladies," said Peter. "Is the luggage allhere?"

  "It is, sir."

  "Then, with your permission, Miss Campbell, I will say good-by. Thankyou again. Perhaps we may meet on the plains."

  "What month is the race?" asked Billie.

  "In July. It starts the Fourth of July."

  "Good-by and good luck to you," they cried, as the departing aeroplanistleaped into the motor car beside the chauffeur, and in another momentthey were out of sight.

  For awhile things seemed rather dull to Miss Campbell and the MotorMaids, such a romantic halo encircles the head of him who flies throughthe air, and this ingratiating Peter Van Vechten, with his reddish hairand his keen brown eyes, also his polished manners, left a very deepimpression on them all.

  The luncheon was poor. It was early dinner, really, with cabbage andboiled mutton and very stiff-looking mashed potatoes, watery canned peasand leathery pie for dessert. They were glad to get back to the Cometagain and glad to be on the road.

  Already they seemed to have been traveling an endless time. But thefirst day of a long journey always affects people in this way. For someinexplicable reason they were a little homesick. The monotony of thislevel country oppressed them, endless green fields, which had once beenvast prairie lands, covered with waving grass and a multitude of wildflowers.

  Late that afternoon, when they stopped for gasoline at a garage in athriving little village, a group of men stood about the door talking.

  "Escaped in a flying machine?" said one.

  "It's an up to date way to fly from justice," put in another.

  "Yes, sir; I seen the paper myself at the hotel. He was a first-classcrook, and he left Chicago this morning early in one of the flyingmachines at the park, where they have been giving exhibitions. Theytelegraphed it all over the country when it was found out. I reckon he'sthe smartest crook in the world. The paper says 'he eluded his captorsjust as they were about to apprehend him; dashed through the hotel doorand jumped in a taxi. At the park he showed a forged letter signed PeterVan Vechten, one of the aeroplanists, permitting him the use of one ofthe aeroplanes for practice before the exhibition, and in five minuteshe was gone like a bird on the wing. It was only a little while laterthat the guardians at the parks found out their mistake. Whether he isstill flying over the country or has lighted in some safe place, no oneknows. So far there is no trace of him whatever.'"

  Strange were the sensations of the Motor Maids and Miss Campbell as theylistened to this remarkable tale. r />
  The tank was filled, and Billie, after asking for the right road,started the machine. It was a silent and rather sad company.

  They had traveled more than a hundred miles that day because it had beentheir object to leave the Middle West behind them as soon as possible,for the more romantic regions beyond.

  At last Miss Campbell burst out:

  "I don't believe it. That nice brown-eyed boy!"

  "Neither do we," echoed the others. "It's impossible."

  This somewhat relieved their feelings, and when they reached the townwhere they had planned to spend the night they were talking cheerfully.

  While they were freshening up for supper half an hour later, MissCampbell felt in her black silk reticule for her purse, Billie havingpaid all bills that day with the ready change with which she hadprovided herself.

  "My dears," gasped the poor little lady, "where is it?"

  "What, Cousin Helen," cried Billie, frightened at the expressions ofdoubt and agitation which chased themselves across her relative's face.

  "My purse, child! My silver-mounted Morocco purse. I thought I had it inmy reticule, but where is it?"

  They emptied the reticule. They looked in their own handbags and evenwent to the garage and searched the Comet. But Miss Campbell's pursecontaining fifty dollars was gone.

  "At any rate, Billie," whispered Nancy that night when they hadstretched themselves wearily on the hardish bed in the hotel, "at anyrate, he had the nicest, kindest brown eyes I ever saw."

  "Even now," answered Billie, "there may be some mistake."