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  Title: Ted Strong's Motor Car

  Author: Edward C. Taylor

  Release Date: October 11, 2004 [EBook #13717]

  Language: English

  *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TED STRONG'S MOTOR CAR ***

  Produced by Steven desJardins and PG Distributed Proofreaders.

  Ted Strong's Motor Car

  OR, FAST AND FURIOUS

  By EDWARD C. TAYLOR

  Author of the Ted Strong Stories

  STREET & SMITH CORPORATION

  PUBLISHERS

  1915

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER I.—TALKING ABOUT SMART HOGS!

  CHAPTER II.—BUD'S BAD BRONCHOS.

  CHAPTER III.—STELLA GOES TO THE "RENT RAG."

  CHAPTER IV.—THE TROUBLE IS STARTED.

  CHAPTER V.—SHOTS FROM THE DARK.

  CHAPTER VI.—THE "FLYING DEMONS'" MESSAGE.

  CHAPTER VII.—SONG SHOOTS A WOLF.

  CHAPTER VIII.—THE BATTLE WITH THE BULL.

  CHAPTER IX.—TED GETS AN ASSIGNMENT.

  CHAPTER X.—A VISITOR IN THE NIGHT.

  CHAPTER XI.—TED STRONG HAS A THEORY.

  CHAPTER XII.—ALOFT AFTER A PRISONER.

  CHAPTER XIII.—THE ANONYMOUS LETTER.

  CHAPTER XIV.—THE ABANDONED MOTOR CAR.

  CHAPTER XV.—THE LODGING-HOUSE BATTLE.

  CHAPTER XVI.—THE MAN IN THE YELLOW CAR.

  CHAPTER XVII.—MURDER IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE.

  CHAPTER XVIII.—STELLA ADOPTS A BROTHER.

  CHAPTER XIX.—EZRA, THE LIFE-SAVING GOAT.

  CHAPTER XX.—THE COUNTERFEIT BANK NOTE.

  CHAPTER XXI.—A CRIME WITHIN A CRIME.

  CHAPTER XXII.—TED IN THE TOILS.

  CHAPTER XXIII.—STELLA IMITATES SANTA CLAUS.

  CHAPTER XXIV.—TED HOLDS A PROFITABLE BAG.

  CHAPTER XXV.—THE MAGPIE PONY.

  CHAPTER XXVI—"VAMOSE!"

  CHAPTER XXVII.—THE GREAT CHIQUITA.

  CHAPTER XXVIII—TED'S GREAT VICTORY.

  CHAPTER XXIX.—KIT MAKES A CAPTURE.

  CHAPTER XXX.—KIT'S TROUBLESOME PRISONER.

  CHAPTER XXXI.—STELLA A CAPTIVE.

  CHAPTER XXXII.—A HOLE IN THE HERD.

  CHAPTER XXXIII.—LITTLE DICK IN TROUBLE.

  CHAPTER XXXIV.—A MESSAGE FROM STELLA.

  CHAPTER XXXV.—"HOLE IN THE WALL."

  CHAPTER XXXVI.—THE ALTERED BRAND.

  Ted Strong's Motor Car

  CHAPTER I.

  TALKING ABOUT SMART HOGS!

  Carl Schwartz burst into the living room of the Moon Valley Ranch house with fire in his eye and pathos in his voice:

  "As sheur as I standing here am, dot schwein I'm going to kill!"'

  "I'll jest bet yer a million dollars ter a piece o' custard pie yer don't," said Bud Morgan, rising from the lounge where he had been resting after a strenuous day in the big pasture.

  "I'll pet you," shouted Carl. "Der pig pelongs mit me der same as you."

  "Go ahead, then," said Bud, lying down again. "But I want ter tell yer this, and take it from me, it's ez straight ez an Injun's hair, yer kin kill yer own part o' thet hawg if yer want ter, but if my part dies I'll wallop yer plenty. I've spent too much time teachin' thet pig tricks ter lose it now."

  "Vich part der pig you own, anyvay?"

  "Ther best part; ther head."

  "Den I dake der tail. By Chiminy, I get skvare yet so soon. I cut der tail off, und dot vill make der pig not able to valk straight ven he can't der tail curl in der opposite direction. Den ve see how mooch der tricks he done. Vat?"

  "I'll hev ther law on yer if yer interfere with thet pig."

  "What's the matter with you two fellows?" asked Ted Strong, the leader of the broncho boys, who was writing some letters at the big oak table in the center of the room.

  "Der pig, he moost die," cried Carl tragically.

  "Why, what has 'Oof' done now?"

  "He has ate all mein gabbages," answered Carl, with almost a sob.

  "Well, s'posin' he hez," said Bud. "What in thunder is cabbages fer, if they ain't ter be et by pigs?"

  "Yes, you, but not fer dose kind of pig. Maybe you might eat dem und it vould be all right, but not der pig mit four feet."

  Carl had a small garden back of the ranch house, in which he had been raising cabbages, devoting all his spare time to them and good-naturedly taking the joshing the boys gave him. They were of the opinion that a cow-puncher was degrading himself by working in a garden.

  "Jumpin' sand hills, he'll be takin' up knittin' when winter comes on, an' makin' of his own socks," said Bud, in disgust.

  "No, he's going in for tatting," said Ben Tremont. "He's going to make a lot of doilies for the chairs so we won't soil the satin upholstery with our oily hair."

  As all the chairs in the living room were very plain, made of solid oak, with bullhide seats and backs, this remark was received with laughter.

  "Go aheadt!" said Carl. "Ven you ain'dt drough, let me know. I know your own bizziness. Ven der vinter comes und I haf dot deliciousness sauerkraut, und am eating it, und ven your mouts vater so dot you slobber like a colt off der clover, den—ah, den, I gifs you der ha-ha, ain'dt it? Den you see who der knitting und der tatting do, eh?"

  Carl laughed at the thought of how the boys would miss the sauerkraut which he was going to make. But now "Oof," the pet pig of the establishment, had eaten them nearly all, and was standing in his sty too full even for the utterance of his usual lazy grunt. He looked like an animated keg of sauerkraut with four pegs at the corners for him to stand on, so full was he of Carl's cherished and esculent cabbages.

  "How in the world did he get into the cabbage patch?" asked Ted. "I thought you had made it pig tight."

  "So did I," answered Carl. "No pig but vun mit der teufel inside him vould haf got der fence over."

  "Got over ther fence!" snorted Bud. "Why, yer feeble-minded son of a downtrodden race, thet thar pig couldn't hev got over ther fence without a balloon. Thet fence is six feet high. A deer couldn't jump it."

  "I didn't saying so. He cannot yump, dot pig. He cannot moof, so full mit gabbages are he. No, he didn't yump, he yoost sving himself over mit dot fence."

  "Slush! Yer gittin' plumb dotty. No pig could swing hisself over thet fence."

  "But it's der only vay vat he could, und Song, der Chineser cook, saw him did it."

  "You don't believe what a Chinyman tells yer, do yer?"

  "What did Song say? How did the pig do it?" asked the boys, roused to interest in the squabble by this statement.

  "Vell, Song he say dot he vos looking der vinder ouid und he saw der pig take der end of dot long rope vot hangs down mit der roof of der hay house in his teeth, und he svings on it some. Song say he t'ought it vas some of Pud's foolishment he vas teaching dot pig, und didn't no more look at him for a leetle vile. Ven he looked again der pig vas svinging avay oop high by der rope. Den I coom along und see der pig in der gabbages, und I takes me a stick und vallops him goot ofer der hams, und drife him his pen into."

  "Shucks! Is that all ther story? That don't prove nothin'. Thet pig, Oof, is a animile of high intelligence. He wuz needin' exercise before dinner. He found a hole in ther fence, er maybe he tunneled one fer hisself, an' he wuz jest kinder doin' some gymnasium work ter git up a good appetite. Yer cain't make me
believe a Chinyman, nohow."

  "I don't know," said Ben thoughtfully, "pigs are mighty smart. He might have swung himself over by the rope, and, if so, I think he was entitled to his dinner as a reward for his ingenuity."

  "I don't pay for no pig's inchenoomity mit my gabbages," said Carl hotly. "Vere I get more gabbages fer der sauerkraut, tell me dot?"

  "Yer don't git no sauerkraut, that's all," growled Bud. "But speakin' about pigs bein' smart, I jest reckon they aire."

  "There are three animals that people persist in calling stupid, when they are only strong-minded and more intelligent than the other animals," said Kit Summers, quietly breaking into the conversation.

  "What aire they?" asked Bud.

  "The pig, the mule, and the goose," answered Kit.

  "Come ter think o' it, yer right ez a book," said Bud, rising from the lounge and joining the other boys in front of the fireplace. "Why, I remember onct down on the Pecos—"

  Ben Tremont rose lazily and stretched himself.

  "Well, so long, boys," he said. "If I ain't back for supper don't wait for me."

  "Whar yer goin'?" asked Bud, with a black look from under his brows.

  "I've got some work to do this evening, and I don't want to be getting drowsy," answered Ben, with a wink at Kit.

  "Go then, yer varmint," said Bud savagely. "This yere incerdent what I'm goin' ter relate is fer intelligent persons only."

  "In that case I shall have to remain," said Ben, throwing his huge bulk into a chair, that creaked like a house in a high wind.

  "How about that Pecos story?" said Ted.

  "'Tis erbout pigs."

  "I didn't know there were any pigs down in that country," said Ted, with a sly smile.

  "Oh, yes, there aire. Some folks calls them peccaries, an' others alludes ter them ez wild hawgs. Yer pays yer money an' chooses what yer likes best."

  "Well, what about them?"

  "'Tain't noways what ye'd call much o' a story, but it 'lustrates ther intelligence o' ther hawg, which in my 'pinion ez almost ez great ez thet o' some collidge gradooates what I hev mixed with."

  Bud stopped and looked hard at Ben, who seemed to be taking a nap in his big chair.

  With a snort of disgust Bud turned his back on the big fellow and began:

  "Me an' 'Peep-o'-day' Thompson wuz ridin' herd on a bunch o' cattle belongin' ter ole man Bradish. All we hed ter do wuz ter keep 'em from driftin' too fur, which nat'rally left us much time fer meditation an' conversation.

  "But it wa'n't long before I'd told all my stories, an' Peep bed plumb fergot I'd tole them ter him, an' wuz tellin' them all over ter me, claimin' they'd happened ter him.

  "I stood it fer a spell because I didn't want ter make no friction betwixt him an' me, but it made me sore jest ther same, because ther derned lump allays got ther story balled up so's I hed trouble in reconnizin' it sometimes. An' he inveribly got ther p'int o' ther story hindside fore, which made me jest bile. But when yer on a long watch with a feller, an' got ter see him from sunup ter moonrise, it's better ter overlook a lot o' things.

  "Well, 's I wuz sayin', we wuz on this stunt, an' had been out all o' three month, takin' turns cookin' an' watchin' so's one o' us could git erway from ther other fer a spell, an' go off an' sit down an' tell hisself what a awful chump ther other wuz, an' how yer hated him.

  "We hed a chuck wagon with us filled with flour, salt sowbelly an' saleratus, with some coffee an' a few pounds o' fine terbaccer fer makin' cigareets. I ain't sayin' nothin' erginst sowbelly ez ther national food o' ther plains an' ther staff o' life in farmin' communities, but ez a steady diet it begins ter pall when taken day in an' day out with nothin' ter wash it down with but weak coffee made outer alkali water.

  "I reckon both me an' Peep wuz gittin' tired o' one another's cookin', if ther truth wuz knowed, fer Peep could make ther wust biscuit I ever et.

  "My biscuit jest suited me ter a ty-ty, an' I reckon Peep felt ther same way erbout hisn. Every time we set down ter vittles, if it wuz my week ter cook, Peep w'd begin ter talk o' ther fine cookin' his wife uster do before she run erway with er Sant' Fe conductor down ter Raton, Noo Mex. He'd tell me how she'd make beef stoo an' hot biscuit thet would melt in yer mouth. 'I don't like them kind,' sez I, one day. 'I like somethin' I kin chew on. What'd ther Lord give us teeth fer if grub is ter melt in ther mouth? No, sir; give me mine gristle an' hide. Ther tougher they be ther better I like 'em,' sez I.

  "'Is thet thar meant ez a reflection on my wife?' sez Peep, bristlin' up.

  "'I never met yer wife,' sez I, 'an' we'll let thet part o' it pass, fer ye knows me well enough thet I never make no remarks erbout wimminfolks what ain't smooth an' complimentary. But I stands on ther gristle-an'-hide propersition ontil I'm ready ter fight fer it.'

  "Yer see, I wuz gettin' some peevish erbout Peep. Ole man Bradish hed left us alone tergether too long. It ain't right fer two fellers ter camp side by each fer so long without a third party buttin' in ter break ther monotony.

  "'All right,' sez he, unlimberin' his six foot three o' len'th from ther ground. 'Thet,' sez he, real dignified, 'is either a challenge or a invitation ter fight.'

  "'It be,' sez I. 'Either way yer wanter take it.'

  "We both riz up.

  "'How d'yer want it?' sez he.

  "'Please yerself,' sez I. 'Any ole holt is my fav'rite.'

  "'Anythin' goes, then,' sez he, makin' a rush at me.

  "Jest then we hear a turrible noise, gruntin', squealin', an' sich. We both stopped an' looked eround, an' thar stood watchin' us a big band o' wild hawgs.

  "'Fresh meat!' we both hollers simultaneous. At this ther hawgs ups an' runs.

  "It wuz my day off, an' hostilities stopped right thar ez I runs an' gits my rifle an' leaps my cayuse an' takes after ther hawgs, Peep hollerin' after me ez friendly ez yer please.

  "I chased them hawgs a couple o' miles ter ther river bank, whar they hid in ther canebrake. I couldn't get ther cayuse ter go in after them, so I gits down an' breaks my way in tryin' ter git a shot at one o' them, my mouth waterin' fer fresh pork so's I wuz almost wadin' in it.

  "Purty soon I come in sight o' them. A ole boar wuz in charge o' them, an' he wuz a hard-lookin' citizen, I want ter tell yer. He hed tushes five inches long an' both o' 'em ez sharp ez razors. I took a shot at him, but his hide wuz so tough thet ther ball just glanced off him, an' he made a break fer me. I turned an' fled. Ther river wuz not fur erway, an' I knowed thet if I beat them hawgs ter it I wuz safe.

  "I jest did it, an' waded out ez fur ez I could an' started ter swim. 'When I gits ter ther other side I'll take some long shots at yer,' thinks I, 'an' we'll hev hawg meat yit.'

  "I gits out inter ther middle o' ther stream when I hears a puffin' an' a gruntin' behind me. I looks over my shoulder an' here comes ther whole herd swimmin' right after me as—"

  "That settles it," said Ben, as he rose with a snort of disgust.

  "What's ther matter with yer?" asked Bud calmly.

  "Yer story is what I thought it would be—wild and woolly and full of cockleburs."

  "How is thet ag'in?"

  "It's rotten. Don't you know, as long as you have been on earth, that swine cannot swim without committing suicide?"

  "Go ahead. Will you kindly tell us fer why, perfessor?"

  "Certainly. The hoofs of pigs are so sharp, and their forelegs are set so far under their bodies, that when they attempt to swim their hoofs strike their fat throats, cutting them, and they die from loss of blood."

  "Thet's c'rect, my son. Every schoolboy knows thet thar p'int in nat'ral history."

  "Then why are you insulting our intelligence by stating that a herd of hogs followed you into the water and swam after you? Now don't spring any such flower of your fancy on us as to say that the hogs all killed themselves crossing and that you and Peep-o'-day had all the fresh meat you wanted during the rest of your stay on the Pecos, for we won't stand for it. I don't believe there is any such thing as a Pecos, anyway."<
br />
  Bud looked so crestfallen that the other boys felt sorry for him.

  "You think you're smart, don't you?" said Kit, taking Bud's finish out of his own mouth. "You big chump, it wasn't your story, anyhow."

  "Don't worry, Kit," said Bud, smiling confidently. "Ben's so intellectooal thet it hurts him ter pack his knowledge eround in thet pinhead o' hisn. But he didn't finish ther story none. I knows ez well ez him thet hawgs can't swim fer ther reasons he give. But these yere hawgs I am tellin' erbout wuz different."

  "How was that?"

  "Yer see, thet thar ole boar wuz ez smart ez a copperation lawyer. He'd fixed them hawgs ter swim. First they got thar hoofs all balled up with gumbo, er sticky clay, then they worked ther dry grass inter ther clay and mixed 'em good an' stiff, lettin' 'em dry in ther sun. This made a hard ball on their toes thet jest slipped off their throats when they struck."

  Ben slipped into his chair with a grunt.

  "O' course, I didn't know thet when I was swimmin'," continued Bud, 'an' I thinks I've run ercross a new web-footed breed o' hawgs. When we come ter ther other side I waited fer them ter land, then I turns an' swims back, ther hawgs follerin'. Back ercross I goes erg'in, an' ther pork keeps right on my trail.

  "Purty soon I see they ain't swimmin' so spry, an' I allow they're gittin' some tired. Ther last time over ter our side o' ther river they come slow, an' I picks out ther kind o' pork I likes best, an' ez they land I nails what I want an' slits thar throats, an' I hev my pork. But when ther rest o' them lands they's full o' fight ez ever, an' I takes ter ther water ag'in, but they won't foller me. This seems strange, an' I looks ter see what ther matter is.

  "Ther ole boar wuz mighty smart, but he'd overlooked one p'int. He'd fergot thet ther water would melt his balls o' clay, which it did, an' they couldn't swim no more. I jest stood hip high in the water with my Winchester an' popped erway at them until they got tired an' run off, leavin' me enough fresh pork ter start a packin' house."