“This is Golden Gate Park, Herc.” “Huh,” responded the red-headed lad, whom we know as Herc Taylor, gazing about him, “where are the Golden Gates?”
“Don’t be any thicker than you have to,” laughed Ned Strong. “The Golden Gate is the poetical Western name for the narrow entrance to San Francisco harbor, through which we passed on the Manhattan two days ago. It was so called on account of the Argonauts of Forty-nine who came sailing into it in the old days expecting to find fortunes in the diggings. This park is ’Frisco’s show place, and it is a beautiful spot.”
[6]
“Well, so far they’ve done nothing but dig fortunes out of us,” complained Herc; “four dollars and ten cents for that breakfast at the St. Francis Hotel was as steep as the hill it stands on.”
“That is what two of Uncle Sam’s sailormen get for mingling with the swells, Herc.”
“Don’t sailors always mingle with the swells?” inquired Herc.
“Say, you deserve to be keel-hauled for springing anything like that,” chuckled Ned. “But seriously, Herc, the days of the old-time sailor, who sought his pleasures in low groggeries and such places, have vanished. At every place we’ve stopped since the fleet left Norfolk, haven’t the men of the squadron behaved themselves like men-o’-war’s-men and gentlemen, instead of the popular idea of a sailor ashore?” Warming to his subject the young Dreadnought Boy continued: “The navy of to-day is made up of ambitious, keen-witted young fellows. Clever, clean and enthusiastic——”
[7]
“Thank you,” spoke Herc, removing his service cap, for both boys wore their uniforms, of which they were justly proud, “I hope you include me in that catalogue?”
“Not if you make the breaks you did at the St. Francis this morning,” rejoined Ned. “I thought those folks at the next table would have died laughing at you.”
“What for I’d like to know?” demanded Herc belligerently, coloring up as red as his own hair.
“Why, for one thing, when the waiter asked you if you wanted to be served ‘a la carte,’ you said, ‘No, you’d rather have it on a plate’; and then when the finger bowls came on, you squeezed your bit of lemon into the water and then hollered for sugar for the lemonade, and——”
Herc doubled up his fists furiously.
“If you weren’t my chum and side partner, Ned Strong, I’d—I’d——”
But what Herc would have done was destined[8] never to be known, for at that instant there came a thunder of hoofs from far down the magnificent, sweeping drive, on the edge of which they were standing, and high above the noise made by the distant galloping horses rose a woman’s shrill scream.
The sudden interruption to the Dreadnought Boys’ conversation had come from beyond a curve in the drive, where trees and flowering shrubs shut out from view its continuation.
“Look! Ned, look!” cried Herc suddenly, gripping his companion’s arm excitedly.
Ned’s heart gave a bound as around the curve there suddenly swept into view a stirring but alarming picture. On the back of a large, spirited chestnut horse, which was clearly beyond control, was seated a young woman whose white face and terrified cries indicated plainly that her mount was running away. Behind her, whirling in their upraised hands lassos of plaited rawhide, like those used by cowboys, came two[9] mounted park policemen. But their horses, fast animals though they were, could not gain sufficiently on the runaway to enable them to throw their ropes and check his career.
Aroused by the screams of the young woman and the shouts of the policemen, people came running from all directions. Their cries only served, as did those of the pursuing officers, further to alarm the runaway. With glaring eyes and distended nostrils it thundered on with its rider clinging desperately to her saddle, from which she was threatened with being thrown any minute.
A low railing separated the drive from the pathway on which the boys stood, but Ned was over it in a bound. Before Herc realized what his chum and shipmate meant to do, Ned was standing in the middle of the drive crouched as if making ready for a supreme effort. The runaway, oblivious to all but its wild terror, came down on him like a whirlwind. But Ned, who[10] had been brought up on a farm and knew no fear of horses, awaited its coming without betraying a sign of agitation.
In another second it was upon him. Concentrating every ounce of energy he possessed on the daring act he contemplated, Ned shot upward and grabbed for the bridle of the flying beast.
“He’ll be killed!” shouted the crowd excitedly.
Herc said nothing, but with white face, on which his freckles stood out like sun-spots, leaned forward open-mouthed as his chum made his daring tackle.
“He’s got him! Oh, good boy, Ned! Hooray!” cried Herc, capering about as Ned’s hands closed on the horse’s bridle.
But Herc’s rejoicing was rather premature. The next instant it was changed to a groan of dismay as the horse, brought to a sudden stop, reared straight up, beating the air with its forefeet, while Ned, hanging on like a cockle burr to the bridle, was swung pendulum-wise through the air.
[11]
Up reared the big chestnut till it appeared as if it must fall over backward, crushing its rider and injuring Ned. As it was, it was a marvel how he escaped the threshing hoofs of the maddened animal. Herc, when he had recovered from the shock of his first amazement, was over the low fence in a jump and at Ned’s side.
Just as he reached it the horse changed its tactics, and coming down on all four feet once more commenced bucking furiously. The girl stuck bravely to her seat but it was a test that would have tried the most skillful rider.
“Grab his neck, Herc, and try to hold his head down!” panted Ned, clinging fast to the bridle.
Herc made a spring and closed his muscular arms around the big chestnut’s neck, but he might as well have tried to harness a tornado. He was flung clear by a wild plunge of the brute, and the next instant it was dashing off with Ned still clinging to the bridle. The boy was lifted clean off his feet by the sudden rush, and, with[12] his legs trailing out behind him like the tail of a kite, the young man-o’-war’s-man was carried along with the runaway.
Herc sprawled on the ground for a minute and then, feeling dizzy and shaken, regained his feet. But by that time the rattle of the runaway’s hoofs and those of his pursuers had almost died out in the distance. The red-headed lad set off on foot, running with all his might in the direction they had vanished.
The drive ended a little distance farther on and came out on a street mainly occupied by hotels, candy stores and itinerant vendors of peanuts and pop-corn. Straight for a small assemblage of push carts the big chestnut dashed. The frightened peddlers rushed off in all directions while the runaway gathered itself for a leap, and, like a steeplechaser, shot into the air and cleared the carts. But in landing on the opposite side it was not so successful. Its hind hoofs caught on the edge of the farthest cart and it came down[13] on its knees with a heavy crash. This gave Ned, who was half stunned and bruised all over but still game and gritty, the opportunity he wanted. With a quick twist he compressed the curb and the snaffle together and had the horse under control. It struggled to regain its liberty, but finding that its efforts to get free only resulted in a fresh tightening of the curb-chain, it finally became docile.
By this time several bystanders had come running up, and some of them volunteered to hold the horse’s head while Ned helped the young woman off the saddle. But as he extended his arms to aid her in dismounting, she turned white and collapsed in a faint into the strong grip of the Dreadnought Boy.
Just then the mounted police, followed by a big crowd, came up, and behind them, panting and streaming with perspiration, came Herc.
“Ned! oh, Ned!” he was bawling. “Are you hurt?”
[14]
“Be quiet, you lubber!” cried Ned angrily, “can’t you see the young lady has fainted? Give me a hand to get her into one of those hotels, will you?” he asked, addressing the officers.
“Sure and we will, my bucko,” exclaimed one of them. “That was the nerviest thing I ever seen done, and I used to work on a cattle ranch before I went on the cops.”
“Youngster, you’re all right and a credit to the uniform you wear,” chimed in the other as he dismounted.
“Never mind that,” Ned hastened to say, as the crowd began to show symptoms of wanting to join in all this well-earned praise, “this young lady needs immediate attention.”
“You can bring her right in here. My living rooms are in the rear of the store,” said a motherly-looking woman who had come out of a soda-water store near by.
“Sure, that’s the best way, Mrs. Jones,” agreed one of the policemen. “Clear the way there, will[15] you?” he added to the crowd, as the unconscious form of the young girl was carried into the store and laid on a lounge in the rear. There she was left to the care of Mrs. Jones and the people turned their attention to the boys.
“Well, that’s over. Come on, Herc, let’s get out of this,” said Ned hastily. “I feel like a fool.”
For a modest lad like Ned it was indeed an ordeal to be called openly “a hero” and “the nerviest lad in ’Frisco,” and half a hundred other adulatory names. The compliments came from the hearts of enthusiastic witnesses of his nervy rescue, but they only embarrassed the Dreadnought Boy and he was anxious to get away.
“She’ll be all right in a few minutes. Only a faint, but if it hadn’t been for you it might have been something worse,” said one of the policemen, coming out of the store where the girl had been carried; “and now you’ll need some fixing up yourself, young fellow. You look like you’d been through a cyclone.”
[16]
In truth, Ned did present a disreputable appearance. His uniform was torn, his face was bruised and scratched, and his cap was missing.
“Oh, I’m all right,” he replied hastily. “There’s a street car. Come on, Herc, we’ll catch it and get fixed up down town.”
“Hey!” shouted the policeman as the two boys dashed off to catch the already moving car, “Hey, young feller, come back and gimme yer name and address!”
But Ned and Herc paid no attention to his cries. They caught the back platform rail of the cable vehicle and swung themselves nimbly on.
“Just time to fix up and get down to the landing,” said Ned, consulting his watch, which had luckily escaped breaking in the recent adventure he had encountered, “we don’t want to overstay our leave, Herc.”
“Uh-huh,” grudgingly assented the red-headed lad, “but just the same ’Frisco suits me better than any place we’ve struck so far on this round-the-world[17] cruise, and I’d like to look around a bit more.”
The Dreadnought Boys, who had just met such a thrilling experience in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco’s beauty spot, were, as our old readers know, the same two lads, who, as told in “The Dreadnought Boys on Battle Practice,” enlisted in Uncle Sam’s navy after tiring of a life of farm work under unjust conditions. They were cousins and life-long chums. In the volume referred to, the first of this series, we saw how quickly the boys, by earnest attention to duty and a fixed determination to make their mark in their chosen profession, attracted the attention of their superior officers. True, they had some hard knocks, chiefly caused by a bully, to whom Ned in a fair, stand-up fight taught a needed lesson. A flareback in one of the big-gun turrets gave them an opportunity to display the mettle they were made of, and right well did they take advantage of it. But ashore at Guantanamo, as well as on the ship,[18] their enemies caused them considerable trouble and they were put to the test in many ways.
Wearing proudly medals of honor, and having achieved raises in rank, we found them next, in the second volume of this series, “The Dreadnought Boys Aboard a Destroyer,” participating in stirring scenes in South America, whither the torpedo boat destroyer Beale had been sent on a special mission. Dangers real and imminent threatened the boys, and they found themselves involved in a desperate battle between the government and revolutionaries. Their gunnery skill and knowledge of tactics won the day for the side that was in the right, and they earned fresh laurels following an exciting experience in a sea-fight.
In “The Dreadnought Boys on a Submarine,” the boys engaged in service on yet another type of Uncle Sam’s fighting ships. Under the water and on the surface they encountered experiences that form one of the most exciting narratives of[19] this series. The submarine affords a peculiar field of interest, and the mystery in which the lads found themselves involved in no way detracts from the thrill and swing of action in this story.
Still forging upward in their chosen profession the lads were detailed next to a squad which, more than any other, calls for nerve, coolness and skill, combined with technical knowledge. In “The Dreadnought Boys on Aero Service,” we followed the two erstwhile farm boys into a new element. In navy aeroplanes they demonstrated the value of air-craft as an auxiliary to the fleet. Ned was especially successful in showing what could be done aloft. It will be readily remembered, too, that many difficulties, as well as triumphs, attended the boys’ aerial experiences, but they “made good,” like sterling American lads, and conquered every obstacle by using brains and brawn.
And now the boys were on their first long[20] cruise. Back again on the huge, drab Dreadnought Manhattan, where they made their début into naval life, they formed part of the crew of the flag-ship of the sixteen battleships sent around the world to give other nations an impressive demonstration of Uncle Sam’s great sea-power. The passage down the eastern coast of South America and around the Horn had been made, the great fighting sea-dogs exciting the most intense interest and enthusiasm everywhere. Two days before, the massive, formidable squadron had steamed in column through the Golden Gate in perfect condition, and dropped anchor in San Francisco’s historic, land-locked harbor.
It was due to sail ere long across the broad Pacific for Hawaii and the “purple east,” returning to America by way of the Suez Canal and the Mediterranean. Small wonder that the men of the fleet were all on tip-toe with excitement over what lay ahead of them on this wonderful voyage. None were more enthusiastic over the[21] prospect of visiting unknown waters than were Ned Strong and Herc Taylor. They looked for adventures afloat and ashore, but those they were destined to encounter surpassed even their fondest imaginings.