Richard Hakluyt - "Voyager's Tales"

George Gissing - "The Whirlpool"

William Hazlitt - "Table Talk, Essays on Men and Manners"

J Fenimore Cooper - "The Prairie"

Tom Swift And His Electric Runabout

V >> Victor Appleton >> Tom Swift And His Electric Runabout







CHAPTER XXIII THE POWER GONE


"Bless my overshoes!" cried Mr. Damon. "Stuck in the mud, eh?"

"Hard and fast," added Tom, in disgust.

"What's to be done?" inquired Mr. Sharp.

"I should say we'll have to stay here until daylight, and wait
for some other auto to come along and pull us out," was Mr.
Damon's opinion. "It's might unpleasant, too, for there doesn't
seem to be any place around here where we can spend the night in
any kind of comfort. If we had the submarine or the airship, now,
it wouldn't so much matter."

"No, and this won't matter a great deal," remarked the young
inventor quickly. "We'll soon be out of this, but it will be hard
work."

"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Sharp.

"I mean that we've got to pull ourselves out of this mud hole,"
explained the lad, as he prepared to descend. "I was afraid
something like this would happen, so I came prepared for it. I've
got ropes and pulleys with me, in the car. We'll fasten the rope
to the machine, attach one pulley to the bridge, another to the
car, and I guess we can get out of the mud. We'll try, anyhow."

"Well, I must say you looked pretty far ahead," complimented
Mr. Damon.

From a box under the tonneau Tom took out a thin but strong
rope and two compound pulleys, which would enable considerable
force to be applied. Mr. Sharp detached one of the powerful oil
lamps, and the three travelers took a look at the auto. It was
indeed deep in the mud and it seemed like a hopeless task to try
to get it out unaided. But Tom insisted that they could do it,
and the rope was soon attached, the hook of one pulley being
slipped around one of the braces of the bridge.

"Now, all together!" cried the lad, as he and his friends
grasped the long rope. They gave a great heave. At first it
seemed like pulling on a stone wall. The rope strained and the
pulleys creaked.

"I--guess--we--will--pull--the--bridge--over!" gasped Mr.
Sharp.

"Something's got to give way!" puffed Tom. "Now, once more! All
together!"

Suddenly they felt the rope moving. The pulleys creaked still
more and, by the light of the lamp, they could see that the auto
was slowly being pulled backward, out of the mud, and onto the
hard road. In a few minutes it was ready to proceed again.

The rope and pulleys were put away, and, after Tom had made an
examination of the car to see that it had sustained no damage,
they were off again, making good time to the hotel in Burgfield,
where they spent the night. They had an early breakfast, and, as
Tom went out to the barn to look at his car, he saw it surrounded
by a curious throng of men and boys. One of the boys was turning
some of the handles and levers.

"Here! Quit that!" yelled Tom, and the meddlesome lad leaped
down in fright. "Do you want to start the car and have it smash
into something?" demanded the young inventor.

"Aw, nothin' happened," retorted the lad. "I pulled every
handle on it, an' it didn't move."

"Good reason," murmured Tom, for he had taken the precaution to
remove a connecting plug, without which the machine could not be
started.

The three were soon under way again, and covered many miles
over the fine country roads, the weather conditions being
delightful. On inquiry they found that by taking an infrequently
used highway, they could save several miles. It was over an
unoccupied part of country, rather wild and desolate, but they
did not mind that.

They were whizzing along, talking of Tom's chances for winning
the race when, after climbing a slight grade, the auto came to a
sudden stop on the summit.

"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Sharp. "Why are you stopping
here, Tom?"

"I didn't stop," was the surprising answer, and the lad shoved
the starting lever back and forth.

But there was no response. There was no hum from the motor. The
machine was "dead."

"That's queer," murmured the young inventor

"Maybe a fuse blew out," suggested Mr. Damon, that seeming to
be his favorite form of trouble.

"If it had you'd have known it," remarked Mr. Sharp.

"There's plenty of current in the battery, according to the
registering gauge," murmured the lad. "I can't understand it." He
reversed the current, thinking the wires might have become
crossed, but the machine would move neither backward nor forward,
yet the dial indicated that there was enough power stored away to
send it a hundred miles or more.

"Perhaps the dial hand has become caught," suggested Mr. Sharp.
"That sometimes happens on a steam gauge, and indicates a high
pressure when there isn't any. Hit it slightly, and see if the
hand swings back."

Tom did so. At once the hand fell to zero, indicating that
there was not an ampere of current left. The battery was
exhausted, but this fact had not been indicated on the gauge.

"I see now!" cried Tom. "It was those fellows at the hotel
barn! They monkeyed with the mechanism, short circuited the
battery, and jammed the gauge so I couldn't tell when my power
was gone. If I had known there wasn't enough to carry us I could
have recharged the battery at the hotel. But I figured that I had
enough current for the entire trip, and so there would have been,
if it hadn't leaked away. Now we're in a pretty pickle."

"Bless my hat band!" cried Mr. Damon. "Does that mean we can't
move?"

"Guess that's about it," answered Mr. Sharp, and Tom nodded.

"Well, why can't we go on to some place where they sell
electricity, and get enough to take us where we want to go?"
asked the odd character, whose ideas of machinery were somewhat
hazy.

"The only trouble is we can't carry the heavy car with us,"
replied Tom. "It's too big to pick up and take to a charging
station."

"Then we've got to wait until some one comes along with a team
of horses, and tows us in," commented Mr. Sharp. "And that will
be some time, on this lonely road."

Tom shook his head despondently. He went all over the car
again, but was forced to the first conclusion, that the reserve
current had leaked away, in consequence of the meddling prank of
the youth at the hotel. The situation was far from pleasant, and
the delay would seriously interfere with their plans.

Suddenly, as Tom was pacing up and down the road, he heard from
afar, a peculiar humming sound. He paused to listen.

"Trolley car," observed Mr. Sharp. "Maybe one of us could go
somewhere on the trolley and get help. There it is," and he
pointed to the electric vehicle, moving along about half a mile
away, at the foot of a gentle slope.

At the sight of the car Tom uttered a cry. "I have it!" he
exclaimed. "None of us need go for help! It's right at hand!"
His companions looked curiously, as the young inventor pointed
triumphantly to the fast disappearing electric.




CHAPTER XXIV ON THE TRACK

"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Damon. "Will the electric trolley
pull us to a charging station?"

"No, we'll not need to go to a station," answered the youth.
"If we can get my car to the trolley tracks I can charge my
battery from there. And I think we can push the auto near enough.
It's down hill, and I've got a long wire so we won't have to go
too close."

"Good!" cried Mr. Sharp. "But attach the rope to the front of
the car, Tom. Mr. Damon and I will pull it. You'll have to ride
in it to steer it."

"We can take turns at riding," was Tom's answer, for he did not
want his companions to do all the work.

"Nonsense! You ride," said Mr. Damon. "You're lighter than we
are, and can steer better. It won't be any trouble at all to pull
this car down hill."

It proved to be an easy task, and in a short time the "dead"
auto was near enough to the electric line to permit Tom to run
his charging wire over to it.

"Why bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, looking up. "There's
no overhead trolley wire. The car must run on storage batteries."

"Third rail, more likely," was the opinion of Mr. Sharp and so
it proved.

"I can charge from either the third rail or the trolley wire,"
declared Tom, who was insulating his hands in rubber gloves, and
getting his wires ready. In a short time he had the proper
connections made, and the much-needed current was soon flowing
into the depleted battery, or batteries, for there were several
sets, though the whole source of motive power was usually
referred to as a "storage battery."

"How long will it take?" asked Mr. Damon.

"About two hours," answered the lad. "We'll probably have to
disconnect our wires several times, whenever a trolley car comes
past. By my system I can recharge the battery very quickly.

"Do you suppose the owners of the road will make any
objection?" asked the balloonist.

"I'm going to pay for the current I use," explained the young
inventor. "I have a meter which tells how much I take."

The hum of an approaching car was heard, and Tom took the wires
from the third rail. The car came to a stop opposite the
automobile, the passengers, as well as the crew, looking
curiously at the queer racing machine. Tom explained to the
conductor what was going on, and asked the fare-collector to
notify those in charge of the power station that all current used
would be paid for. The conductor said this would be satisfactory,
he was sure, and the car proceeded, Tom resuming the charging of
his battery.

Allowing plenty of reserve power to accumulate, and making sure
that the gauge would not stick again, and deceive him, the owner
of the speedy electric was soon ready to proceed again. They had
been delayed a little over three hours, for they had to make
several shifts, as the cars came past.

They reached their shore cottage late that night, and, after
seeing that the runabout was safely locked in the big shed where
the submarine had been built, they all went to bed, for they were
very tired.

Tom sent word, the next day, to the managers of the race, that
he would be on hand at the time stipulated, and announced that he
had made part of the trip, as required, under the power of the
auto itself.

The next day was spent in overhauling the machinery, tightening
up some loose bearings, oiling different parts, and further
charging the battery. Tires were looked to, and the ones on the
spare wheels were gone over to prepare for any emergency that
might arise when the race was started.

On the third day, Tom, Mr. Sharp and Mr. Damon, leaving the
cottage completed the trip to Havenford, Long Island, where the
new track had been constructed.

They reached the place shortly before noon, and, if they had
been unaware of the location they could not have missed it, for
there were many autos speeding along the road toward the scene of
the race, which would take place the following day.

Several electric cars passed Tom and his friends, whizzing
swiftly by, but the young inventor was not going to show off his
speed until the time came. Besides, he did not want to run any
risks of an accident. But some of the contestants seemed anxious
for impromptu "brushes," and more than one called to our hero to
"speed up and let's see what she can do." But Tom smiled, and
shook his head.

There were many gasolene and some steam autos going out to the
new track, which was considered a remarkable piece of
engineering. It was in the shape of an octagon, and the turns
were considered very safe. It was a five mile track, and to
complete the race it would be necessary to make a hundred
circuits.

Through scores of autos Tom and his friends threaded their way,
the young inventor keeping a watchful eye on the various types of
machine with which he would soon have to compete.

There were many kinds. Some were larger and some smaller than
his. Many obviously carried very large batteries, but whether
they had the speed or not was another question. Some, in spurts,
seemed to Tom, to be fully as fast as his own, and he began to
have some doubts whether he would win the race.

"But I'm not going to give up until the five hundredth mile is
finished," he thought, grimly.

They were now in sight of the track, and noted many machines
speeding around it.

"Go on in and try your car, Tom," urged Mr. Sharp.

"Yes, do," added Mr. Damon. "Let's see how it travels."

"I will, after I notify the proper officials that I have
arrived," decided the lad.

The formalities were soon complied with. Tom received his entry
card, after paying the fee, made affidavit that he had completed
the entire trip from home under his own power, save for the
little stretch when the car was pulled, which did not count
against him, and was soon ready to go on the track. Only electric
cars were allowed there.

As the young inventor guided his latest effort in the machine
line onto the big track there were murmurs of surprise from the
throngs.

"That's a queer machine," said one.

"Yes, but it looks speedy," was another's opinion.

"There's the car for my money," added a third, pointing to a
big red electric which was certainly whizzing around the track.
Tom noted the red car. Behind it was a green one, also moving at
a fast rate of speed.

"Those will be my nearest rivals," thought the lad, as he
guided his car onto the track. A moment later he was sending the
auto ahead at moderate speed, while the other contestants looked
at the new arrival, as if trying to discover whether in it they
would have a dangerous competitor.




CHAPTER XXV WINNING THE PRIZE


After making two circuits of the track at moderate speed, Tom
turned on more power, deciding to see how the machine would
behave on the turns, going at a fast speed. As it happened he
forged ahead just as the big red car was coming up behind him.
The driver of it took this for a challenge and threw his
controller handle forward.

"Come on!" he cried to our hero, when even with him.

Tom did not want to decline the invitation, and the impromptu
race was under way. Soon the green car came rushing up, and for
two miles the three kept almost in line. It was evident that
neither the green nor the red car drivers wanted to "open out,"
until they saw Tom do so.

He was willing to oblige them, and suddenly increased his
speed. They did the same, and went ahead of him. Then Tom turned
on a little more juice and got the lead, but the two men were
right after him, and they see-sawed like this for two more miles.
Then, with a cry the man in the red car, with a sudden burst of
speed, left Tom and the green car behind. The green car was soon
up to its rival, but Tom decided he would not spurt.

The lad and his friends spent the early part of the night in
making a final inspection of the machinery, finding it in good
order. Then, with his head filled with visions of the race on the
morrow Tom went to bed. He had made inquiries, by telephone, of
the friends of Miss Nestor, and learned that she had not arrived.
Tom felt a distinct sense of disappointment.

The day of the race could not have been better. It was ideal
weather, and conditions at the track were just right. Tom was up
early, and went over every inch of his car with a nervous dread
that he might find something the matter.

The final details of the race were completed, and the entrants
given their numbers and places. Tom drew a good position, not the
best, but he had no reason to complain. Half an hour before the
start he again telephoned to see if Miss Nestor had arrived, but
she had not, and it was with rather gloomy thoughts that the lad
entered his car, in which Mr. Sharp had already taken his place.
Mr. Damon went to the grandstand to watch the race.

"I wanted Mary to see me win," thought our hero, for he had
grimly set his mind on coming in ahead.

There was a great crowd in the grandstand and scattered about
the big track, which took in a large extent of territory. In
spite of its size--five miles around--it seemed solidly
packed for the entire length with autos, containing gay parties
who had come to see the electric contest. There was a band
playing gay airs, as Tom guided his machine through the entrance
gate, and onto the track.

The judges made their final inspection. There were twenty cars
entered, but it was obvious that some of them would not last
long, as their battery capacity was not large enough. Their
owners might have relied on recharging, but how they could do
this under the usual slow system, and hope to win, Tom could not
see. He hoped to run the entire distance on the single charge,
but, if by some accident part of his current should leak away,
his battery could be charged in a short time, by means of his new
system, to run for a considerable distance, or he could install a
new one already charged, for he had two sets on hand. Tom glanced
over the cars of his competitors. They were to be sent away in
batches, the affair being a handicap one, with time allowance for
the smaller powered cars. Tom noted that his car and the red and
the green ones were in the same bunch. Tom's car was purple.

"Are you all ready?" asked the starter of the first group of
races.

"Ready," was the low-voiced response.

"Crack!" went the pistol, and there followed the hum of the
motors as the current set the mechanism to work. Forward went the
cars, amid the crash of the band and the cheers of the crowd. The
big race was under way.

"Do you feel nervous, Tom?" asked Mr. Sharp.

"Not a bit," replied the lad.

Around and around the track flew the speedy electrics. It was
evident that the holding of a meet solely for cars of this
character had brought out many new ideas that would be to the
benefit of the industry. Some cars were "freaks" and others, like
Tom's, showed a distinct advance over previous styles of
construction.

A five-hundred mile race around a track is rather a monotonous
affair, except for what happens, and things very soon began to
happen at this race.

As Tom had expected, several of the machines were forced to
withdraw. Tire troubles beset some, and others found that they
were hopelessly out of it because of low power, or lack of
battery capacity.

Tom determined not to let the red or the green car gain any
advantage over him, and so he watched those two vehicles
narrowly. On the other hand, the red and the green electrics were
evidently afraid of one another and of Tom.

They all three kept pretty much together for the first thirty
miles. By this time the race had settled down into a steady
grind. There was some excitement when the steering gear of one
car broke, and it crashed Into the fence, injuring the driver,
but the race went on.

The young inventor was holding his own with his two chief
rivals, and was feeling rather proud of his car, when there came
from it a report like a pistol shot.

"Blow out!" yelled Tom desperately, steering to one of the
several repair stations on the inner side of the track. "Be ready
with the extra wheel, Mr. Sharp!"

"Right you are!" cried the balloonist. The car was scarcely
stopped when he had leaped out, and had the lifting jack under
the left rear wheel, where the tire had gone to the bad. He and
Tom labored like Trojans to take off the wheel, and put on the
other. They lost five minutes, and when they got under way again
the red and the green cars were three quarters of a lap ahead.

"You've got to catch them!" declared Sharp firmly.

But the red and the green car drivers saw their advantage, and
were determined to hold it. Tom could not catch them without
going his limit, and he did not want to do this just yet.
However, he had his opportunity when about two hundred miles had
been covered. Both the red and the green cars had tire troubles,
but the red one was delayed scarcely two minutes as there was a
corps of mechanics on hand to take off the defective wheel and
put on another. Still Tom regained his lost ground, and once more
the race between those three cars was even.

In the rear of Tom's car Mr. Sharp was mending the blown-out
tire, though there was still one spare wheel on reserve. Tom, in
front, peered eagerly at the track. Nearly side by side raced the
red and the green cars, the latter somewhat to the rear.

It was at the three hundred and fiftieth mile that Tom had
another blow-out. This time it took a little longer to change the
wheel, and the red and green cars gained a full lap on him. The
track was now so dusty that it was difficult to see the
contesting cars. Many had dropped out, and more were on the verge
of giving up.

With the odds against him, Tom started in to regain the lost
ground. Narrowly he watched his electric power. Slowly he saw it
dropping. Would he have enough left to finish out the race? He
feared not. The hours were passing. Still there was a hundred
miles yet to go twenty circuits of the track. Some of the
spectators were getting weary and leaving. The band played
spasmodically.

Suddenly Tom saw the red car shoot to one side of the track,
toward a charging station; The green car followed.

"That's our cue!" cried the young inventor "We need a little
more 'juice' and now is the time to get it."

The lad ran to the shed where his charging wires were, and they
were connected in a trice. He allowed twenty-five minutes for the
charging, as he knew with his improved battery he could get
enough current in that time to finish the contest. Before the red
and green car drivers had finished installing new batteries, for
they could not recharge as quickly as could our hero, Tom was on
the track again. But, in a little while, his two rivals were
after him.

It was now a spectacular race. Around and around swept the
three big cars. All the others were practically out of it. The
crowd became lively airs. Mile after mile was reeled off. The day
was passing. Tired and covered with dust from the track, Tom
still sat at the steering wheel.

"Two laps more!" cried Mr. Sharp, as the starter's pistol gave
this warning. "Can you get away from 'em, Tom?"

The red and the green cars were following closely. The young
inventor looked back and nodded. He turned on more power, almost
to the limit--that he was saving for the final spurt. But after
him still came the two big cars. Suddenly the red car shot ahead,
just as the last lap was beginning. The green tried to follow,
but there was a flash of fire, a loud report, and Tom knew a fuse
had blown out. There was no time for his rival to put in a new
one. The race was now between Tom and the red car. Could the lad
catch and pass it?

They were now only a mile from the finish. The red car was
three lengths ahead. With a quick motion Tom turned on the last
bit of power. There seemed to come a roar from his Motor and his
car shot ahead. It was on even terms with the red car when what
Tom had been fearing for the last five minutes happened: his fuse
blew out.

"Too bad! It's all up with us!" cried Mr. Sharp.

"No!" cried Tom in a ringing voice. "I've got an emergency fuse
ready!" He snapped a switch in place, putting into commission
another fuse. The motor that had lost speed began to pick it up
again. Tom had pulled back the controller handle, but he now
shoved it forward again, notch by notch, until it was at the
limit. He had fallen back from the red car, and the occupants of
that, with a yell of triumph, prepared to cross the line a
winner.

But, like a race horse that nerves himself for the last
desperate spurt, Tom's machine fairly leaped ahead. With his
hands gripping the rim of the steering wheel, until it seemed
that the bones of his fingers would protrude, Tom sent his car
straight for the finishing tape. There was a yell from the
spectators. Men were standing up, waving their hats and shouting.
Women were fairly screaming. Mr. Damon was blessing everything
within sight. Mr. Sharp, in his excitement, was pushing on the
back of the front seats as if to shove the car ahead.

Then, as the pistol announced the close of the race, Tom's car,
with what seemed a mighty leap, like a hunter clearing a ditch,
forged ahead, and crossed the line a length in advance of the red
car. Tom Swift had Won.

Amid the cheers of the crowd the lad slowed up, and, at the
direction of the judges, wheeled back to the stand, to receive
the prize. A certified check for three thousand dollars was
handed him, and he received the congratulations of the racing
officials. The driver of the red car also generously praised him.

"You won fair and square," he said, shaking hands with Tom.

The young inventor and his friends drove their car to their
shed. As Tom was descending, weary and begrimed with dust he
heard a voice asking:

"Mayn't I congratulate you also?"

He wheeled around, to confront Mary Nestor, immaculate in a
summer gown.

"Why--why," he stammered. "I--I thought you didn't come."

"Oh, yes I did," she answered, laughing. "I wouldn't have
missed it for anything. I arrived late, but I saw the whole race.
Wasn't it glorious. I'm so glad you won!" Tom was too, now, but
he shrank back when Miss Nestor held out both daintily gloved
hands to him. His hands were covered with oil and dirt.

"As if I cared for my gloves!" she cried, and she took
possession of his hands, a proceeding to which Tom was nothing
loath. "Are you going to race any more?" she asked, as he walked
along by her side, away from the gathering crowd.

Copyright (c) 2007. topbookz.net. All rights reserved.