CHAPTER VIII

DOWN THE ALLEGHANY

The truckman was bracing himself in his seat, with his foot on the brake, trying his best to check the speed of the big wagon. As for the horses, he could do nothing with them, since, as he said, to pull on the unbroken rein would only be to send the steeds floundering into the ditch that bordered the road on either side. That is, providing the animals answered the pull.

“Can you hold the boat?” cried the truck-owner, giving a glance over his shoulder at the men and boys.

“We’re--trying!” gasped Bob, whose face was red from the effort he was making. Ned and Jerry, too, as well as the men, were doing their best.

“There’s the canal, just ahead!” observed one man.

Jerry had a glimpse of water sparkling in the rays of the sun. The road was now almost level, but the horses had not slackened their speed. Just where the canal came to an end, the highway curved abruptly, and it was not hard to guess what would happen if the runaways were not checked.

Either they would swing around the curve with force enough to overturn the truck, or, in their fright, they would plunge, boat, wagon and all, into the water. There was not much choice between the two dangers.

“Get ready to jump!” yelled the truckman on his seat.

The boys were in despair. They saw their plans for a fine summer outing partly spoiled, and their fine boat about to be wrecked.

Suddenly, from the bushes that lined the road, there ran out to the middle of the highway, and a little distance ahead of the galloping horses, a small man. At the sight of him Jerry cried:

“Look! It’s the professor!”

“He’d better get out of the way,” said the truckman grimly, in a low voice. “Nothing can stop these animals now, until they wreck everything. Look out!” he yelled to Mr. Snodgrass.

But the little, bald-headed professor did not have any such intention. That was evident. There seemed to be something in the road that he wanted. His net came down with a swoop, and he knelt in the dust.

“Look out!” came in a chorus from the men on the wagon.

Then, for the first time, Professor Snodgrass seemed to be aware of the approaching vehicle, with the boat for a load.

Up he jumped to his feet, holding his long-handled butterfly net, and staring at the approaching runaways through his big glasses.

“Get out of the way!” yelled the truckman.

The professor ran forward, waving his arms. In one hand he held his broad-brimmed hat, while the other flourished the big, green net.

“Stop!” he cried, loud enough to be heard above the thunder of the wagon wheels. “Stop! Stop! Don’t come on any farther. You’ll smash it!”

“Huh! We know that!” yelled the truckman. “But you can’t make these horses stop by just inviting ’em to. Look out, or you’ll get hurt!”

But the professor came on, running straight at the runaways. Now he was almost under their feet, but with a wild yell he still advanced.

Suddenly he threw his hat in the face of one of the leading horses, and, with another quick motion, he crashed his long-handled net across the eyes of the other. Then, nimbly leaping to one side, the professor caught the broken, dangling rein, and braced back with all his might. Though a small man, he was powerful, and his weight told.

“That’s the stuff!” cried the truckman. In an instant he began pulling on the unbroken rein which he still held, and thus, with the professor on one side, being dragged along, and the driver sawing on the other line, the horses were pulled up evenly, a thing that had been impossible before.

“By Jove! I believe they’re going to stop!” cried Jerry, as he noticed a slackening in the speed of the horses.

“It’s about time, too!” added the truckman, as he looked at the waters of the canal, not far distant. He continued to pull on one line. The professor still clung to the other, and the brakes were jammed on. Add to this that the road was level, and that the truck was heavily loaded, and it can easily be seen that the horses, tired as they were from their run, did not need much more to stop them. They came down to a trot, then to a walk, and finally stopped. The truckman leaped from his seat, after a glance to make sure that the boat was in no immediate danger of slipping off, though it had slid back quite a way.

“Say, that was a plucky stop!” the man cried, holding out his hand to the professor. “I’ve caught some runaways in my time, but never better than that. You saved us from a bad smash-up.”

“Um! Well, perhaps I did,” admitted Uriah Snodgrass slowly, “but I must confess I wasn’t thinking of that at the time. I wanted you to stop before you got too far, that was all.”

“And didn’t you want to save us?”

“Oh, yes, of course. But you see I was just capturing a new and very rare specimen of a yellow grasshopper when you came along. I almost had him in my net, but he jumped under a stone, and I was afraid if the horses came along they might step on the stone, and crush the insect or run a wheel over him. That’s why I wanted to stop you. I’m glad I did, though I’ll have to put a new handle on my net, for it’s broken. But I must see if I have the grasshopper.”

He ran to a flat stone in the road, carefully raised it, and made a grab for something underneath.

“I’ve got him! I’ve got him!” he cried. “Oh, you little beauty! You’re worth at least fifteen dollars. Oh, I’m glad I stopped the runaways!”

“Well, you are a queer one,” murmured the truckman as he proceeded to tie the broken rein, and then he and his men made the slipping boat secure, to hold until they could cover the short remaining distance to the canal. “Stopping a runaway to save a grasshopper! That’s the limit!”

“But it’s a yellow grasshopper, and very rare,” put in the professor with a smile, as he placed the insect in one of the cases he always carried. “I doubt if any college but mine will have a specimen like this. How did the runaway happen?”

The others told him about the dog that had scared the horses, and then the boys, having expressed their appreciation of what the professor had done, helped the men steady the boat for the rest of the trip.

The horses were quiet enough now, and soon had the truck at the edge of the canal. There the work of getting the _Dartaway_ into the water again was speedily accomplished, and, having paid the men, and called the professor away from an ant hill he was examining through a magnifying glass, the motor boys once more got underway.

“Talk about excitement, it’s with us almost from the start,” remarked Ned.

“Yes, I thought our boat was a goner there, one spell,” added Jerry. “It took all my nerve to hold on.”

“Mine too,” added Bob. “I think I’ll have to make a cup of coffee, and take some sandwiches to quiet down.”

And this time neither Ned nor Jerry laughed at their fat chum.

Their trip along the quiet canal was uneventful, and in a few days, after tying up nights along shore of the river into which the canal opened, they swept out on the waters of the Alleghany, and were headed for Pittsburg.

“I hope our auto is all ready for us, and that we don’t have to wait,” remarked Ned one evening, as they got ready to retire for the night.

“Well, we’ll know by this time to-morrow,” spoke Jerry. “We ought to be in Pittsburg then.”

“What are you going to do with the boat?” asked Bob.

“I’ve arranged to store it until we get back,” replied the tall lad. “We’ll have to spend at least a day here, trying out the auto, and laying in some supplies. In that time we can see that the boat is properly put away.”

Professor Snodgrass sat up rather late that night arranging and classifying some specimens he had caught, and it was nearly midnight when he turned in. The boys were sound asleep, and the little scientist was soon in the same blissful state.

What time he was awakened Jerry did not know, but he sat up suddenly in bed, for he heard someone moving stealthily about on the after-deck. Then the door of the cabin was cautiously tried:

“Who’s there?” cried the tall lad suddenly.

There was no answer, and reaching out his hand Jerry sought for the switch that would turn on the electric lights which were operated by a storage battery. As he felt the button, he heard a boat scraping against the side of the _Dartaway_.