For the major portion of the return trip to Kansas City, there was nothing to mar the very agreeable illusion underwhich Clyde rested. He sat beside Hortense, who leaned her head against his shoulder. And although Sparser,who had waited for the others to step in before taking the wheel, had squeezed her arm and received ananswering and promising look, Clyde had not seen that.
But the hour being late and the admonitions of Hegglund, Ratterer and Higby being all for speed, and the moodof Sparser, because of the looks bestowed upon him by Hortense, being the gayest and most drunken, it was notlong before the outlying lamps of the environs began to show.
For the car was rushed along the road at break-neck speed. At one point, however, where one of the eastern trunklines approached the city, there was a long and unexpected and disturbing wait at a grade crossing where twofreight trains met and passed. Farther in, at North Kansas City, it began to snow, great soft slushy flakes,feathering down and coating the road surface with a slippery layer of mud which required more caution than hadbeen thus far displayed. It was then half past five. Ordinarily, an additional eight minutes at high speed wouldhave served to bring the car within a block or two of the hotel. But now, with another delay near Hannibal Bridgeowing to grade crossing, it was twenty minutes to six before the bridge was crossed and Wyandotte Streetreached. And already all four of these youths had lost all sense of the delight of the trip and the pleasure thecompanionship of these girls had given them. For already they were worrying as to the probability of theirreaching the hotel in time. The smug and martinetish figure of Mr. Squires loomed before them all.
Gee, if we don't do better than this," observed Ratterer to Higby, who was nervously fumbling with his watch,"we're not goin' to make it. We'll hardly have time, as it is, to change."Clyde, hearing him, exclaimed: "Oh, crickets! I wish we could hurry a little. Gee, I wish now we hadn't come today.
It'll be tough if we don't get there on time."And Hortense, noting his sudden tenseness and unrest, added: "Don't you think you'll make it all right?""Not this way," he said. But Hegglund, who had been studying the flaked air outside, a world that seemed dottedwith falling bits of cotton, called: "Eh, dere Willard. We certainly gotta do better dan dis. It means de razoo forus if we don't get dere on time."And Higby, for once stirred out of a gambler-like effrontery and calm, added: "We'll walk the plank all rightunless we can put up some good yarn. Can't anybody think of anything?" As for Clyde, he merely sighednervously.
And then, as though to torture them the more, an unexpected crush of vehicles appeared at nearly everyintersection. And Sparser, who was irritated by this particular predicament, was contemplating with impatiencethe warning hand of a traffic policeman, which, at the intersection of Ninth and Wyandotte, had been raisedagainst him. "There goes his mit again," he exclaimed. "What can I do about that! I might turn over toWashington, but I don't know whether we'll save any time by going over there."A full minute passed before he was signaled to go forward. Then swiftly he swung the car to the right and threeblocks over into Washington Street.
But here the conditions were no better. Two heavy lines of traffic moved in opposite directions. And at eachsucceeding corner several precious moments were lost as the cross-traffic went by. Then the car would tear on tothe next corner, weaving its way in and out as best it could.
At Fifteenth and Washington, Clyde exclaimed to Ratterer: "How would it do if we got out at Seventeenth andwalked over?""You won't save any time if I can turn over there," called Sparser. "I can get over there quicker than you can."He crowded the other cars for every inch of available space. At Sixteenth and Washington, seeing what heconsidered a fairly clear block to the left, he turned the car and tore along that thoroughfare to as far asWyandotte once more. Just as he neared the corner and was about to turn at high speed, swinging in close to thecurb to do so, a little girl of about nine, who was running toward the crossing, jumped directly in front of themoving machine. And because there was no opportunity given him to turn and avoid her, she was struck anddragged a number of feet before the machine could be halted. At the same time, there arose piercing screamsfrom at least half a dozen women, and shouts from as many men who had witnessed the accident.
Instantly they all rushed toward the child, who had been thrown under and passed over by the wheels. AndSparser, looking out and seeing them gathering about the fallen figure, was seized with an uninterpretable mentalpanic which conjured up the police, jail, his father, the owner of the car, severe punishment in many forms. Andthough by now all the others in the car were up and giving vent to anguished exclamations such as "Oh, God! He hit a little girl"; "Oh, gee, he's killed a kid!" "Oh, mercy!" "Oh, Lord!" "Oh, heavens, what'll we do now?" heturned and exclaimed: "Jesus, the cops! I gotta get outa this with this car."And, without consulting the others, who were still half standing, but almost speechless with fear, he shot thelever into first, second and then high, and giving the engine all the gas it would endure, sped with it to the nextcorner beyond.
But there, as at the other corners in this vicinity, a policeman was stationed, and having already seen somecommotion at the corner west of him, had already started to leave his post in order to ascertain what it was. As hedid so, cries of "Stop that car"--"Stop that car"--reached his ears. And a man, running toward the sedan from thescene of the accident, pointed to it, and called: "Stop that car, stop that car. They've killed a child."Then gathering what was meant, he turned toward the car, putting his police whistle to his mouth as he did so.
But Sparser, having by this time heard the cries and seen the policeman leaving, dashed swiftly past him intoSeventeenth Street, along which he sped at almost forty miles an hour, grazing the hub of a truck in one instance,scraping the fender of an automobile in another, and missing by inches and quarter inches vehicles orpedestrians, while those behind him in the car were for the most part sitting bolt upright and tense, their eyeswide, their hands clenched, their faces and lips set--or, as in the case of Hortense and Lucille Nickolas and TinaKogel, giving voice to repeated, "Oh, Gods!" "Oh, what's going to happen now?"But the police and those who had started to pursue were not to be outdone so quickly. Unable to make out thelicense plate number and seeing from the first motions of the car that it had no intention of stopping, the officerblew a loud and long blast on his police whistle. And the policeman at the next corner seeing the car speed byand realizing what it meant, blew on his whistle, then stopped, and springing on the running board of a passingtouring car ordered it to give chase. And at this, seeing what was amiss or awind, three other cars, driven byadventurous spirits, joined in the chase, all honking loudly as they came.
But the Packard had far more speed in it than any of its pursuers, and although for the first few blocks of thepursuit there were cries of "Stop that car!" "Stop that car!" still, owing to the much greater speed of the car, thesesoon died away, giving place to the long wild shrieks of distant horns in full cry.
Sparser by now having won a fair lead and realizing that a straight course was the least baffling to pursue, turnedswiftly into McGee, a comparatively quiet thoroughfare along which he tore for a few blocks to the wide andwinding Gillham Parkway, whose course was southward. But having followed that at terrific speed for a shortdistance, he again--at Thirty-first--decided to turn--the houses in the distance confusing him and the suburbancountry to the north seeming to offer the best opportunity for evading his pursuers. And so now he swung the carto the left into that thoroughfare, his thought here being that amid these comparatively quiet streets it waspossible to wind in and out and so shake off pursuit--at least long enough to drop his passengers somewhere andreturn the car to the garage.
And this he would have been able to do had it not been for the fact that in turning into one of the more outlyingstreets of this region, where there were scarcely any houses and no pedestrians visible, he decided to turn off hislights, the better to conceal the whereabouts of the car. Then, still speeding east, north, and east and south byturns, he finally dashed into one street where, after a few hundred feet, the pavement suddenly ended. But because another cross street was visible a hundred feet or so further on, and he imagined that by turning into thathe might find a paved thoroughfare again, he sped on and then swung sharply to the left, only to crash roughlyinto a pile of paving stones left by a contractor who was preparing to pave the way. In the absence of lights hehad failed to distinguish this. And diagonally opposite to these, lengthwise of a prospective sidewalk, had beenlaid a pile of lumber for a house.
Striking the edge of the paving stones at high speed, he caromed, and all but upsetting the car, made directly forthe lumber pile opposite, into which he crashed. Only instead of striking it head on, the car struck one end,causing it to give way and spread out, but only sufficiently to permit the right wheels to mount high upon it andso throw the car completely over onto its left side in the grass and snow beyond the walk. Then there, amid acrash of glass and the impacts of their own bodies, the occupants were thrown down in a heap, forward and to theleft.
What happened afterwards is more or less of a mystery and a matter of confusion, not only to Clyde, but to allthe others. For Sparser and Laura Sipe, being in front, were dashed against the wind-shield and the roof andknocked senseless, Sparser, having his shoulder, hip and left knee wrenched in such a way as to make itnecessary to let him lie in the car as he was until an ambulance arrived. He could not possibly be lifted outthrough the door, which was in the roof as the car now lay. And in the second seat, Clyde, being nearest the doorto the left and next to him Hortense, Lucille Nickolas and Ratterer, was pinioned under and yet not crushed bytheir combined weights. For Hortense in falling had been thrown completely over him on her side against theroof, which was now the left wall. And Lucille, next above her, fell in such a way as to lie across Clyde'sshoulders only, while Ratterer, now topmost of the four, had, in falling, been thrown over the seat in front ofhim. But grasping the steering wheel in front of him as he fell, the same having been wrenched from Sparser'shands, he had broken his fall in part by clinging to it. But even so, his face and hands were cut and bruised andhis shoulder, arm and hip slightly wrenched, yet not sufficiently to prevent his being of assistance to the others.
For at once, realizing the plight of the others as well as his own, and stirred by their screams, Ratterer was movedto draw himself up and out through the top or side door which he now succeeded in opening, scrambling over theothers to reach it.
Once out, he climbed upon the chassis beam of the toppled car, and, reaching down, caught hold of thestruggling and moaning Lucille, who like the others was trying to climb up but could not. And exerting all hisstrength and exclaiming, "Be still, now, honey, I gotcha. You're all right, I'll getcha out," he lifted her to a sittingposition on the side of the door, then down in the snow, where he placed her and where she sat crying and feelingher arms and her head. And after her he helped Hortense, her left cheek and forehead and both hands badlybruised and bleeding, but not seriously, although she did not know that at the time. She was whimpering andshivering and shaking--a nervous chill having succeeded the dazed and almost unconscious state which hadfollowed the first crash.
At that moment, Clyde, lifting his bewildered head above the side door of the car, his left cheek, shoulder andarm bruised, but not otherwise injured, was thinking that he too must get out of this as quickly as possible. Achild had been killed; a car stolen and wrecked; his job was most certainly lost; the police were in pursuit andmight even find them there at any minute. And below him in the car was Sparser, prone where he fell, butalready being looked to by Ratterer. And beside him Laura Sipe, also unconscious. He felt called upon to dosomething--to assist Ratterer, who was reaching down and trying to lay hold of Laura Sipe without injuring her.
But so confused were his thoughts that he would have stood there without helping any one had it not been forRatterer, who called most irritably, "Give us a hand here, Clyde, will you? Let's see if we can get her out. She'sfainted." And Clyde, turning now instead of trying to climb out, began to seek to lift her from within, standing onthe broken glass window of the side beneath his feet and attempting to draw her body back and up off the bodyof Sparser. But this was not possible. She was too limp--too heavy. He could only draw her back--off the body ofSparser--and then let her rest there, between the second and first seats on the car's side.
But, meanwhile, at the back Hegglund, being nearest the top and only slightly stunned, had managed to reach thedoor nearest him and throw it back. Thus, by reason of his athletic body, he was able to draw himself up and out,saying as he did so: "Oh, Jesus, what a finish! Oh, Christ, dis is de limit! Oh, Jesus, we better beat it outa disbefore de cops git here."At the same time, however, seeing the others below him and hearing their cries, he could not contemplateanything so desperate as desertion. Instead, once out, he turned and making out Maida below him, exclaimed
Here, for Christ's sake, gimme your hand. We gotta get outa dis and dam quick, I tell ya." Then turning fromMaida, who for the moment was feeling her wounded and aching head, he mounted the top chassis beam againand, reaching down, caught hold of Tina Kogel, who, only stunned, was trying to push herself to a sittingposition while resting heavily on top of Higby. But he, relieved of the weight of the others, was already kneeling,and feeling his head and face with his hands.
Gimme your hand, Dave," called Hegglund. "Hurry! For Christ's sake! We ain't got no time to lose around here.
Are ya hurt? Christ, we gotta git outa here, I tellya. I see a guy comin' acrost dere now an' I doughno wedder he'sa cop or not." He started to lay hold of Higby's left hand, but as he did so Higby repulsed him.
Huh, uh," he exclaimed. "Don't pull. I'm all right. I'll get out by myself. Help the others." And standing up, hishead above the level of the door, he began to look about within the car for something on which to place his foot.
The back cushion having fallen out and forward, he got his foot on that and raised himself up to the door level onwhich he sat and drew out his leg. Then looking about, and seeing Hegglund attempting to assist Ratterer andClyde with Sparser, he went to their aid.
Outside, some odd and confusing incidents had already occurred. For Hortense, who had been lifted out beforeClyde, and had suddenly begun to feel her face, had as suddenly realized that her left cheek and forehead werenot only scraped but bleeding. And being seized by the notion that her beauty might have been permanentlymarred by this accident, she was at once thrown into a state of selfish panic which caused her to becomecompletely oblivious, not only to the misery and injury of the others, but to the danger of discovery by the police,the injury to the child, the wreck of this expensive car--in fact everything but herself and the probability orpossibility that her beauty had been destroyed. She began to whimper on the instant and wave her hands up anddown. "Oh, goodness, goodness, goodness!" she exclaimed desperately. "Oh, how dreadful! Oh, how terrible
Oh, my face is all cut." And feeling an urgent compulsion to do something about it, she suddenly set off (andwithout a word to any one and while Clyde was still inside helping Ratterer) south along 35th Street, toward thecity where were lights and more populated streets. Her one thought was to reach her own home as speedily aspossible in order that she might do something for herself.
Of Clyde, Sparser, Ratterer and the other girls--she really thought nothing. What were they now? It was only intermittently and between thoughts of her marred beauty that she could even bring herself to think of the injuredchild--the horror of which as well as the pursuit by the police, maybe, the fact that the car did not belong toSparser or that it was wrecked, and that they were all liable to arrest in consequence, affecting her but slightly.
Her one thought in regard to Clyde was that he was the one who had invited her to this ill-fated journey--hencethat he was to blame, really. Those beastly boys--to think they should have gotten her into this and then didn'thave brains enough to manage better.
The other girls, apart from Laura Sipe, were not seriously injured--any of them. They were more frightened thananything else, but now that this had happened they were in a panic, lest they be overtaken by the police, arrested,exposed and punished. And accordingly they stood about, exclaiming "Oh, gee, hurry, can't you? Oh, dear, weought all of us to get away from here. Oh, it's all so terrible." Until at last Hegglund exclaimed: "For Christ'ssake, keep quiet, cantcha? We're doing de best we can, cantcha see? You'll have de cops down on us in a minuteas it is."And then, as if in answer to his comment, a lone suburbanite who lived some four blocks from the scene acrossthe fields and who, hearing the crash and the cries in the night, had ambled across to see what the trouble was,now drew near and stood curiously looking at the stricken group and the car.
Had an accident, eh?" he exclaimed, genially enough. "Any one badly hurt? Gee, that's too bad. And that's aswell car, too. Can I help any?"Clyde, hearing him talk and looking out and not seeing Hortense anywhere, and not being able to do more forSparser than stretch him in the bottom of the car, glanced agonizingly about. For the thought of the police andtheir certain pursuit was strong upon him. He must get out of this. He must not be caught here. Think of whatwould happen to him if he were caught--how he would be disgraced and punished probably--all his fine worldstripped from him before he could say a word really. His mother would hear--Mr. Squires--everybody. Mostcertainly he would go to jail. Oh, how terrible that thought was--grinding really like a macerating wheel to hisflesh. They could do nothing more for Sparser, and they only laid themselves open to being caught by lingering.
So asking, "Where'd Miss Briggs go?" he now began to climb out, then started looking about the dark and snowyfields for her. His thought was that he would first assist her to wherever she might desire to go.
But just then in the distance was heard the horns and the hum of at least two motorcycles speeding swiftly in thedirection of this very spot. For already the wife of the suburbanite, on hearing the crash and the cries in thedistance, had telephoned the police that an accident had occurred here. And now the suburbanite was explaining
That's them. I told the wife to telephone for an ambulance." And hearing this, all these others now began to run,for they all realized what that meant. And in addition, looking across the fields one could see the lights of theseapproaching machines. They reached Thirty-first and Cleveland together. Then one turned south toward this veryspot, along Cleveland Avenue. And the other continued east on Thirty-first, reconnoitering for the accident.
Beat it, for God's sake, all of youse," whispered Hegglund, excitedly. "Scatter!" And forthwith, seizing MaidaAxelrod by the hand, he started to run east along Thirty-fifth Street, in which the car then lay--along the outlyingeastern suburbs. But after a moment, deciding that that would not do either, that it would be too easy to pursuehim along a street, he cut northeast, directly across the open fields and away from the city.
And now, Clyde, as suddenly sensing what capture would mean--how all his fine thoughts of pleasure wouldmost certainly end in disgrace and probably prison, began running also. Only in his case, instead of followingHegglund or any of the others, he turned south along Cleveland Avenue toward the southern limits of the city.
But like Hegglund, realizing that that meant an easy avenue of pursuit for any one who chose to follow, he tootook to the open fields. Only instead of running away from the city as before, he now turned southwest and rantoward those streets which lay to the south of Fortieth. Only much open space being before him before he shouldreach them, and a clump of bushes showing in the near distance, and the light of the motorcycle alreadysweeping the road behind him, he ran to that and for the moment dropped behind it.
Only Sparser and Laura Sipe were left within the car, she at that moment beginning to recover consciousness.
And the visiting stranger, much astounded, was left standing outside.
Why, the very idea!" he suddenly said to himself. "They must have stolen that car. It couldn't have belonged tothem at all."And just then the first motorcycle reaching the scene, Clyde from his not too distant hiding place was able tooverhear. "Well, you didn't get away with it after all, did you? You thought you were pretty slick, but you didn'tmake it. You're the one we want, and what's become of the rest of the gang, eh? Where are they, eh?"And hearing the suburbanite declare quite definitely that he had nothing to do with it, that the real occupants ofthe car had but then run away and might yet be caught if the police wished, Clyde, who was still within earshotof what was being said, began crawling upon his hands and knees at first in the snow south, south and west,always toward some of those distant streets which, lamplit and faintly glowing, he saw to the southwest of him,and among which presently, if he were not captured, he hoped to hide--to lose himself and so escape--if the fateswere only kind--the misery and the punishment and the unending dissatisfaction and disappointment which now,most definitely, it all represented to him.