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Updated: June 4, 2025
It was the cold form of Sibyl Dacy, which was extended on the hillock so often mentioned, with her arms thrown over it; but, looking in the dead face, the beholders were astonished to see a certain malign and mirthful expression, as if some airy part had been played out, some surprise, some practical joke of a peculiarly airy kind had burst with fairy shoots of fire among the company.
His Vix-Benson was burning up the beach. Now the scouts caught the buzz of the motor. It grew louder with the passing of every second. Like a black projectile the car came on, flames from the throbbing cylinders licking about the hood. "Dacy! Dacy! Danny Dacy! Make it a new record!" screamed the electrified crowd while he was yet two miles from the finish line. Unquestionably he was the favorite.
Septimius could not account for it, for though the hill-side did produce certain flowers, the aster, the golden-rod, the violet, and other such simple and common things, yet this seemed as if a carpet of bright colors had been thrown down there and covered the spot. "This is very strange," said he. "Yes," said Sibyl Dacy, "there is some strange richness in this little spot of soil."
The best automobile drivers in the world will be there St. Clare, Dublan, Osterhout, and and best of all, Dan Dacy, the American, who has been smashing all of the old records. The papers say Dacy is the favorite. He's going to make a new record in everything from five to fifteen miles and trim the Frenchmen and the Germans an " "Oh, say, quit! We're not there yet.
The scouts followed Jiminy and Bruce and soon found themselves part of a very large crowd gathered about the famous driver's headquarters. Dacy was the favorite American in the race and since he was to operate one of the best known American cars everybody was enthusiastic to see him carry off the honors of the event in which he was entered.
The drowning man seemed to hold fast to the bottom. But he fought hard for he realized that if he let go of Dacy he would have difficulty in finding him with a second dive. Every moment was precious, too. There might still be a spark of life in the limp form he was trying to rescue. Up, up, he struggled. Above he could see the light of day. Great green bubbles raced past him. Only a few feet now.
One of the earliest American sailors on a lake ship bigger than a bateau, was "Uncle Dacy" Johnson, of Cleveland, who sailed for fifty years, beginning about 1850. "When I was a chunk of a boy," says the old Captain in a letter to a New York paper, "I put a thirty-two pound bundle on my back and started on foot to Buffalo.
Jimmy summoned every ounce of his remaining strength and held the head of the unconscious man above the water. And when the spectators saw that he had actually made the rescue a cheer louder and longer than any that had greeted the racers rent the air. It was hard work and Jiminy was at the point of exhaustion, yet he tried his utmost to buckle the life belt about poor Dacy.
So I will be a prophet, a greater than Mahomet, and will put all man's hopes into my doctrine, and make him good, holy, happy; and he shall put up his prayers to his Creator, and find them answered, because they shall be wise, and accompanied with effort. This will be a great work, and may earn me another rest and pastime." "And what shall that be?" asked Sibyl Dacy.
"We asked one-legged Dacy on the quiet. He was in the war, and he says the gun can't burst, or anything." The crowd kept pushing Bart forward in eager excitement. "Why don't you light it yourself?" inquired Bart of Dale. "I've sprained my foot limping now," explained young Wacker. "She may kick, you see, and soon as you light her you want to scoot."
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