Chapter IV

The next day a small friend of his, Phil, told him something that filled him with delight. The Cresta was closed for that season, for one of the banks was considered too weak, and it would be impossible to rebuild it, for the thaw was beginning to set in. This meant that all the bars would be taken away, and the run left to thaw, and that all the little boys from the village would come and slide about on it, and soon spoil its beautiful, smooth surface. It also meant that there was now nothing to stop any one who liked taking a toboggan, and going down the whole course!

"I'll tell you a secret, Phil," said Harry. "To-morrow morning, before any one is up, I am going to go down the Cresta from the top. You can come with me, and we'll get Dick and Reggie to come too, as witnesses to prove I can do it, and teach those rotters not to laugh."

Phil was delighted at the prowess of his friend. "What if you get killed?" he said.

"Oh, then it will prove that I couldn't do it, and they were right!" said Harry.

At 8.30 the next morning, just as the sun peeped over the snowy mountains, Harry, with knee and elbow pads, and "rakes" (or spikes) fixed on his toes, crept out, dragging a heavy toboggan. He was followed by his three friends. They walked down by the run first. Every bar had been taken away, it was clear and free.

"Now for it!" said Harry, as he stood at the top, his heart beating fast with excitement. Lying flat on his toboggan, he slid off down the first incline, down towards the steep and sudden dip called "Church Leap."

At this moment his friends saw a tall figure walking down the path by the run, away by the big corners known as "Battledore" and "Shuttlecock." In a moment they recognized him by his orange scarf--it was Uncle Hugh! He had stopped, for he had heard the rush of a toboggan on the run. What would he say when he saw it was Harry? But even as they saw him stop, they saw something else that made their blood run cold!

At the place where the run cuts across the road, and is usually guarded by a man with a red flag to keep people from crossing, a wood sleigh suddenly appeared. It advanced slowly and drew up, the horse standing straight across the run. Once a rider has started down the Cresta Run there is no way of stopping--he must rush on at sixty miles an hour! The three boys' hearts seemed to stop with terror. Hugh was standing still, his eyes fixed on the place.

And what of Harry? Long as this takes to tell, it was all a matter of less than a minute. Harry had rushed in a glorious, thrilling whirl down most of the run--the worst was over. He was now on the long steep _straight_, and there were only small corners to get round. The cold air seemed to whistle in his face and make his eyes stream, for he was travelling at a very high speed. And then--then he saw the terrible sight. A horse and sleigh was standing across the run!

There were only a few seconds to think what to do as he flew onwards. But Harry did not lose his head. At one glance he had noticed that the _horse_ and not the _sleigh_ was across the run. The driver was round at the back, fixing up a log that had slipped. Lying very flat, and guiding himself straight as an arrow, Harry kept his course, and passed like a flash beneath the horse, between his four great legs! He was safe!

The three boys, watching from the top, threw their caps in the air, and cheered and laughed for joy! Hugh, standing by "Shuttlecock," his teeth clenched, gave a sigh of relief. "Thank God!" he said. "Thank God! He's a sporting kid, right enough, and he's got some wits to have done that--it was his only chance!"

No one at the hotel laughed when they heard the story. Harry was thoroughly scolded, of course. But everyone looked at him with admiration. "Some day he'll be the champion on the Cresta," said an old Colonel, who had won the Grand National many years ago.

A Midnight Adventure

Wolf Cub Pat Shannon awoke with a start, and sat up in bed. He had been far away in the glorious land of dreams, driving a Rolls-Royce motor car. It must have been the happy week he had spent since Christmas, riding on his scooter, that had made him dream this, for his Uncle Patrick had brought him a scooter from London for a Christmas present. It was a real beauty, with solid rubber tires and nice big wheels, and it had cost 7s. 6d.! Pat had learned to get up a tremendous speed upon it.

"Shure, it's a danger ye are to the pedestrians!" his uncle had said one day, on meeting him rushing down the street of the little Irish town where he lived. Pat had not a notion what a _pedestrian_ was; all he knew was that it made his uncle buy him a real bicycle bell and screw it on the handle of his scooter!

Now he had been suddenly roused from his dreams. He sat up in the darkness and listened. Yes, it was his mother's voice. She was sitting up, he knew, with baby, who had bronchitis. He was the only man in the house, his father being at the front with his regiment, the Royal Irish Fusiliers. He had wanted to sit up, but his mother had told him to go to bed, and she would call if she wanted help. Now he heard her.

"Pat--Pat--Patrick Michael!" Her voice seemed somehow frightened.

"Yes, mother!" he called, scrambling out of bed. In a moment he was pattering down to the kitchen, barefooted, in his little nightshirt.

"Pat," said his mother, "Baby's very ill, he is. He's after takin' a sudden turn for the worse. I must have the doctor this minute, or it's dead he'll be before morning."

"Right, mother," said Pat in a business-like way. "If the doctor is at his house, I'll have him here in half an hour!"

He ran upstairs again. In three minutes he was back dressed and searching in the back kitchen for his scooter.

"What d'you be after fetchin', dearie?" said his mother. "Sure, an' you aren't goin' to take out yer scooter this dark night?"

"Yes, mother," said Pat. "It's as fast as a motor bike, I can be goin' on my scooter. I shall be down the hill at the doctor's house in ten minutes from now."

Softly he let himself out, and set off down the lonely road. There was a small moon, and he knew every inch of the way.

It was all down hill to the doctor's house. The road was smooth and quite empty. Pat got up a great speed. It was glorious! The night air rushed past him.

He reached the bottom of the first hill. There was rather a lonely piece of road to go along, here. At the end of it stood a great house, with a high wall round it. The owner of the house had been away from it for many years. Only a very old caretaker lived in it.

People said it was full of treasures and great wealth--jewels and silver plate, priceless china and beautiful pictures. The shutters were always closed, and many were the tales about it.

Pat's heart beat rather fast as he reached the wall. Great black trees grew in the garden and stretched their branches like great hands over it.

All the stories he had ever heard of ghosts and banshees and the "little people" came into his head. He half wished he hadn't come. The shadows were so very black, and all was so still. There was no one about, and not the faintest sound to be heard.

"A Cub does not give in to himself." The words of the Cub Law suddenly came into his head. He felt the little brass badge in his buttonhole, and it gave him courage. With a kick he sent his scooter on, and passed out of the moonlight into the shadow of the trees.

Hullo! what was that sound? A noise of breaking glass and splintering wood, as if someone had jumped through a window--running feet in the garden--a hoarse shout--now a long, shrill blast from a policeman's whistle--more running behind the wall--then the sound of another policeman running down the road to the help of his comrade!

Pat forgot his fears. Here was a real adventure!

Then, suddenly, just ahead, a dark figure appeared in the moonlight, crouching on the top of the wall. A moment later the policeman had dashed up. Like a tiger springing on his prey, the man leapt down on him, knocking him flat, and then began running down the hill at top speed.

A second policeman had come up, and, seeing the running figure, made after him. But it was a hopeless chase. The man had had a good start, and he was a swift runner. Besides, the policeman was rather fat.

Suddenly a thought flashed into Pat's mind, and his heart grew big with courage. He would help the policeman in his work--that would be _some_ good turn!

Placing his right foot firmly on his scooter, he kicked off violently with his left. In a moment he was shooting like a flash down the steep hill. It was a dangerous job. He squatted down and balanced carefully. He had never been at such a speed in his life.

In half a minute he had overtaken the policeman. The man, hearing the following footsteps flagging, had reduced his speed a little. Pat's rubber wheels made no sound on the smooth road. Nearer and nearer he drew to the flying thief. Now he was very near. He set his teeth and steered his scooter straight for the man.

_Crash!_ The scooter and its small rider had hurled themselves against his legs. With a yell of terror and pain the great figure crashed to the ground, Pat on top of it, the scooter flying out into the road. Without a moment's hesitation he scrambled free of the man's legs, and sat with all his weight on the furious burglar's head. The man struggled violently, but one of his arms was caught under him, and Pat was bending the other back in a most painful position. Before long the policeman was up, and had the prisoner handcuffed.

Pat felt as if he were one great bruise all over! Blood was streaming from a cut on his chin, where it had come into violent contact with the burglar's boot. But his first thought was for baby and the doctor. Picking up his scooter, he did not wait for a word from the policeman, but dashed on down the hill.

Half an hour later Dr. Byrne was up at the cottage in his car, with Pat and his scooter on the seat beside him. Of course the cut on the chin had to be explained. And, when baby was fixed up, it was stitched and bandaged. The next day Dr. Byrne drove his small patient to the Police Court.

Ten pounds reward! Why, the very excitement of the adventure would have been enough reward in itself! But, all the same, it's rather jolly to have _L_10 of your very own, earned by your own pluck and the help of your scooter!

The Secret Room