The Motor Girls at Camp Surprise: or, The Cave in the Mountains

“Who said we were going to dance?” asked Walter.

“I did,” replied Jack. “There’s a hotel not far from the camp, I hear, and the season ought to be partly in swing now. Well, if you fellows don’t want to go I can borrow your shoes.”

“Who said we didn’t want to go?” Paul cried.

“Oh, well, don’t bite me!” pleaded Jack, in falsetto accents.

The little excitement caused by Jack’s involuntary bath gradually subsided. He made a final and fairly successful effort to rid his hands of the grime caused by cleaning the carburetor, and then, attired in dry garments, and with one pink and one blue slippered foot resting “nonchalantly” (as he called it) on the rail, he watched the receding, wooded shores of the Chelton.

From somewhere in the distance a factory whistle blew.

“One o’clock!” cried Jack. “Is dinner ready? I say, Cora, I have a wonderful appetite!”

“Never knew you when you didn’t have,” she replied.

“Why, we just had lunch – just before Jack fell overboard!” ejaculated Hazel.

“That won’t make a bit of difference to him – or them,” said Belle, with a resigned air. “We’ll have to serve another meal I suppose.”

“A regular one this time, if you please,” begged Walter. “Those olives, anchovies and the caviar sandwiches only made me a bit keen.”

The girls were nothing loath to put out the food again, for, truth to tell, the river air had given them, as well as the boys, an appetite. They had brought plenty with them, for though they had requested Mr. Floyd to have supper ready when they reached the bungalow (the first meal in camp the boys were to share with the girls), still Cora had feared they would arrive late, and had made arrangements accordingly.

They had as much fun over the regular lunch as they had had over the “temporary” one, as Walter and the boys designated the first meal, and the afternoon waned pleasantly.

“I hope we shall get to Riverhead before the storm,” observed Cora, as she came back to take her place at the wheel again, a post she had abandoned while she helped the girls put away the dishes and what was left of the food.

“What storm?” asked Paul.

Cora indicated a bank of sullen-looking clouds in the west. They were sufficiently ominous to cause Cora to speed up the motor a bit, and to request her brothers and his chums to see to the side curtains.

“We ought to get in long before that breaks,” Jack declared.

But he did not count on the speedy approach of the storm, nor on the fact that the boat ran into a shallow section of the river, where there grew long grass which got entangled in the propeller.

Though the Corbelbes managed to force her way through this patch of “seaweed” as Jack called it, when she emerged into free water again the motor could hardly turn the screw. It was necessary to reverse the engine, to unwind the grass, and even then some had to be pulled away with the boat hook – no easy task.

And then, when they were once more under full speed, the storm came down with a rush and a roar, with blinding sheets of rain, with a wind that caught the boat broadside, where the rubber curtains made a wide sail area, and heeled her over at no small angle.

With the rain came thunder and lightning, sufficiently fierce and loud for a time to terrify at least Belle, who was the most nervous of the girls.

“I can hardly see to steer,” said Cora, peering out of the rain-drenched windows of the cabin.

“Want me to take the wheel?” asked Jack.

“No, thank you, I think not. We ought to be almost there now. But I don’t know about going over the mountain trail in this storm.”

“Maybe it will stop,” suggested Belle.

“It doesn’t act so,” commented Walter.

The thunder had almost ceased, and the lightning was not so startling, but the rain came down harder than ever.

“I declare I can’t see either bank of the river,” Cora said. “I hope I shan’t run into anything.”

They kept on for perhaps an hour longer, the rain never ceasing. But they were good and dry in the snug motor boat.

“I think we’d better put ashore and find out where we are,” suggested Jack, after a bit. “We may have run past Riverhead, Cora.”

“Run past it! How could we, Jack? The river’s almost too shallow for a rowboat past Riverhead. We’d be aground.”

“Not necessarily. They’ve lately dredged a channel about a mile beyond, to let boats bring ice down from the houses up above. You may be in the channel,” Walter said.

“I don’t believe – ” began Cora, when suddenly the boat ran against an obstruction. The occupants were almost thrown off their feet. A grinding, scraping sound was heard and Cora threw out the gears.

“Why – why!” she cried, as she looked out into the dark mist of the storm. “We’ve run ashore!”

CHAPTER IX – TIED UP

Silence followed Cora’s startling announcement – that is comparative silence, for the rain, hissing into the river, and pelting on the deck and cabin roof, made quite a noise.

“What’s that you say?” demanded Walter, arising from a stern locker where he had been talking more or less nonsense to Hazel.

“Run ashore?” echoed Jack.

“At least I suppose it’s the shore,” said Cora, who had stopped the engine, the controls being near the wheel. “There aren’t any islands in this part of the river; are there?”

“Not one,” said Jack. “It is the shore,” he confirmed after a look through the cabin window.

“Any damage done, Sis?”

“Not to the shore, at any rate. We didn’t hit very hard. I saw something looming up through the mist and slowed down.”

“We must be up to Riverhead all right,” remarked Bess. “Though I haven’t noticed anything like a town.”

“You couldn’t notice much of anything in this rain,” Cora said. “We’re not aground, at all events,” for they could feel the boat moving down stream under the influence of the current.

“Switch on the searchlight and see if we can discover where we are,” suggested Belle.

“Good idea,” commented Captain Cora. A push of a button and the small but powerful searchlight, mounted amidships on the cabin roof, gleamed out. It was operated by a storage battery, which, in turn, was charged by a small dynamo connected to the engine fly wheel. And by means of a worm gear, operated by a wheel near the steering apparatus, the light could be deflected in any direction.

Cora trained it on the bank. Looking through the rain-covered windows of the cabin the girls, and their boy guests, saw a water-soaked bank, covered with bushes and rushes. It was dusk now.

“That doesn’t look like Riverhead,” commented Jack.

“More like river-end,” said Paul. “Where in the world are we?”

“Don’t ask me!” exclaimed Cora, a trifle nervously. “I’m sure I did the best I could in the mist.”

“Of course you did, Sis,” said her brother soothingly. “It isn’t any one’s fault. We’re all right. The boat doesn’t seem to be damaged by trying to poke her pretty nose into the bank, and if we can’t go on to Camp Surprise in the darkness and rain we can go to some hotel and stay. There’s one in Riverhead.”

Just then, into the radiance of the searchlight stepped a man clad in yellow oilskins, rubber boots and with a sou’wester on his head.

“I’ll ask him,” said Jack. “He’ll tell us where we are.”

The individual – evidently a fisherman, as indicated by his unjointed pole and a basket – stopped in some surprise as he saw the big motor boat so close to shore, with lights gleaming and the powerful beams of the one on the cabin roof setting him out in bold relief in its glare.

“How far to Riverhead, if you please?” called Jack, sliding back one of the cabin windows.

“Riverhead?” cried the man, and surprise was plain in his voice. “Why, Riverhead’s over on the Chelton side, about ten miles from here.”

“On the Chelton side!” repeated Jack. “Isn’t this the Chelton?”

“No. This is Batter Creek,” the man explained. “The Chelton river branches off to the right, six miles down. You must have taken the left turn where Batter Creek runs into it. First you know you’ll be up in the swamp.”

“Good-night!” cried Jack, with a tragic gesture.

“On Batter Creek!” echoed Walter.

“Ten miles from Riverhead!” was Cora’s gasping remark.

“No wonder the poor boat ran ashore,” commented Bess. “She’d rather do that than get lost in a swamp.”

“So this is Batter Creek,” went on Jack. “I see how it happened. You steered over to the left at the junction, Cora, instead of following the right shore – I mean the right hand shore.”

“I suppose I must have,” Cora admitted. “But I couldn’t see in all that storm.”

“Of course not,” said Hazel, slipping her arm around Cora’s waist. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Certainly not,” added Walter and Paul in a duet.

“Jack, please shut the window,” begged Belle. “That is, if you have finished talking to that man. The damp wind will – ”

“Take all the frizz out of your hair – I know!” Jack cut in. “All right. Much obliged to you, sir,” he continued.

“Don’t mention it,” replied the man of the yellow oilskins. “Quite a drizzle; isn’t it?”

“Regular Scotch mist!” chuckled Walter, in exaggerated Highland accents.

“I suppose we can get to Riverhead by turning around, following the left shore here until we come to the place where Batter Creek runs into the Chelton, and then go up the river?” suggested Jack, as he slowly slid the window shut.

“That’s right,” returned the fisherman. “But don’t go up this creek any further, or you’ll run aground in a swamp.”

“Thanks,” called Jack. “Oh, I say, are you going or coming?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean have you been fishing, or are you just going?”

“Just going. They always bite pretty well for me in a rain.”

“Oh. I thought maybe if you had any we’d buy ’em.”

“Sorry, but I haven’t anything but shiners for bait. I’m going down to the deep water.”

“What in the world did you want to buy fish for, Jack?” asked his sister as he closed the window, and the yellow figure splashed away.

“To eat,” was his answer. “We’ve got to have supper; haven’t we?”

“But can’t we go on to Riverhead, and then to the bungalow?” asked Bess.

“Hardly,” declared Jack. “It isn’t so late, of course. But this rain is going to keep up, if I’m any judge, and though we might manage to reach Riverhead, we certainly couldn’t undertake a ride over the mountain trail in an open buckboard in this downpour.”

“But what are we going to do?” cried Hazel, opening her eyes wide. She seemed in much distress.

“Do? Why, stay right here, my dear,” said Jack. “That is, if you will allow that poetic license – because ‘dear’ rhymes with ‘here.’”

“Oh,” murmured Hazel, blushing. “Stay here?”

“We have remained on board over night,” Cora remarked. “But we’ll be a bit crowded,” and she glanced appraisingly at Jack and his chums.

“Don’t worry about us, Sis,” he hastened to assure her. “We can bunk anywhere, or sit up. I don’t feel sleepy anyhow.”

“But we’ve got to eat,” said Walter. “Too bad that chap didn’t have any fish. We could have fried them on the gasoline stove.” The Corbelbes was fitted up with a little galley, the girls often having stayed on board for days at a time.

“Maybe we can catch some ourselves,” suggested Paul.

“No outfit or bait,” remarked Jack.

“A bent pin and a piece of string?” suggested Paul, but not with any degree of enthusiasm.

“Well, we’ve got to do something,” Cora declared. She had again set the engine in motion, but it was running only fast enough to overcome the sluggish current in the creek.

“Stay here,” urged Jack. “We know where we are now, but if we go down stream in the darkness we may fetch up at a place we don’t know.”

“You mean tie up here?” asked his sister.

“Sure. Cast the anchor, set the riding lights, make everything snug below and aloft, my captainess, and turn in. Set an anchor watch, heave the lead, and ’ware the lee shore and breakers ahead! Yo ho! My hearties! The stormy winds do blow, do blow, do blow!” and Jack began howling an old sea-song at the top of his voice.

“Jack, be quiet!” insisted Cora. “You’ll arouse the neighborhood.”

“There aren’t any neighbors here,” he laughed. “The only one there was has gone fishing, and he doesn’t mind! Yo, he ho!”

“I guess to tie up is the best thing to do,” said Paul, and there was something in his manner that caused Cora to say:

“All right, Jack. Drop the anchor, and we’ll stay here for the night.”

“And then see about something to eat,” suggested Walter.

Jack made a dash outside, shoved over the anchor, took a turn of the cable about a deck cleat and came back into the cabin. The Corbelbes was tied up for the night.

CHAPTER X – A NIGHT RIDE

“Well, now that we’re here – ”

“Because we’re here,” Walter interrupted Cora, in the words of the foolish song. “Excuse me,” he added, as he caught her look, “I didn’t mean anything special.”

“Now that we’re here,” Cora resumed, “hadn’t we better – ”

“See to the eats,” broke in Paul. “No offense, loidy!” he hastened to add, imitating a tramp, “but wees would loik a bit of a bite – ”

“Speaking of bites,” laughed Jack, “some fish wouldn’t go half bad.”

“Will you be quiet!” commanded Cora. “I want to say something!”

“Say on!” urged Jack. “Now that we are here, as snug as a rug in a bug – ”

Cora reached for something, she was not just sure what, and Jack, knowing that his sister had a straighter aim than have most girls, cried:

“Don’t shoot, Davy Crockett, I’ll come down.”

“You’d better,” Cora said, laughing in spite of herself. “Now that we are here – ”

“She said that before,” whispered Jack, but his sister took no notice, going on with:

“We must see about something to eat. We have enough for supper, but breakfast will be another matter. I’d like to get some bacon and eggs. That, with coffee, will make a good morning meal.”

“And what, if I may be so bold as to ask,” came from Bess, “is to be the menu for this evening.”

“We’ll have a look,” suggested Cora. Attached to the small galley, in which was a gasoline stove, was a sort of cupboard. An inspection of this did not reveal as much as Cora had hoped for.

“There isn’t a great deal left; is there?” she said.

“I should say not!” cried Jack, peering over his sister’s shoulder. “Fellows, we’ve got to rustle for the grub! Don’t all speak at once. Listen to that!” and he signaled for silence, which, when it came, enabled them all to hear the swish and patter of the raindrops on the roof.

“I’ll go,” offered Walter. “I’m hungrier than any of you, I guess, and I have a pair of rubbers in my valise.”

“Regular fireman you are,” commented Jack. “Why didn’t you bring rubber boots?”

“And I see Cora has an umbrella,” Walter went on, ignoring Jack’s sarcasm. “I’ll go out in the rain, and – ”

“Give a correct imitation of a duck doing its Christmas shopping!” gibed Jack. “Wally, you’re all right!”

“If you had some of his public spirit we’d all be better off,” said Cora.

“Oh, don’t um be mad at um’s ‘ittle bruver!” mocked Jack.

“Oh, quit it!” begged his sister.

“Where can you get anything to eat around here?” asked Paul.

“I don’t know, but I can forage for it. The presence of that fisherman clearly proves that this is an inhabited land, and where there are inhabitants there must be food. I may find a country store, or, if I can’t find that, I’ll find a house, describe our plight in such moving words as I am able to command, and buy what they’ll sell.”

“I’d like a cup of tea,” murmured Belle. “My nerves – ”

“Are nothing to what they’ll be when the ghosts of Camp Surprise begin to make the stairs stand on their head,” broke in Jack.

“We have tea,” Cora said. “I’ll put the kettle on at once. It seems a pity to have you go out in this storm, though, Walter.”

“I don’t mind a bit. I’m glad to do it.”

“He’ll say anything as long as there are ladies present,” declared Jack. “But wait until you’re gone. He’ll say you drove him to it.”

Walter paid no attention to his tormenting chum, but began talking to Cora as to what best he had better try to get in the way of food, provided he could find a store or a house where some might be obtained.

And then, having donned his rubbers, and taking Cora’s umbrella, Walter set off on his quest. It was still raining hard, but the thunder and lightning had ceased some time since.

While he was gone the others began their preparations for spending the night on board. The girls would occupy the main cabin, where there were four berths. The after part of the boat had been enclosed in heavy curtains when the rain set in, and here the boys could sleep on the locker cushions spread on the floor. They had done it on one or two other occasions.

There were a few blankets, besides those for the bunks, but the boys said they would not need many coverings, as the night was warm.

Cora put the kettle on the gasoline stove, and as soon as it boiled, tea was made. There was condensed milk in the larder, and sugar for those who wished it, though Bess bewailed the lack of lemon, for she wanted to “reduce” she said, and some one had told her lemon juice in tea was helpful.

Cora was setting out what remained of the sandwiches and cake, and Jack was eyeing, rather dubiously, the apology for a meal, when they heard a hail:

“Corbelbes ahoy!”

“That’s Walter!” declared Paul.

“And may he come well-laden!” ejaculated Jack.

“You poor boy!” exclaimed Cora, sympathetically, as Walter came dripping into the after cabin. “Are you soaked?”

“Not quite so bad as that,” he answered, laying down some brown-paper-wrapped bundles.

“Never mind how he is, what about the eats?” asked Jack.

“You are heartless,” said Hazel, and then she wished she had not spoken, for Jack flashed a look at her, and whispered:

“Can you blame me for being heart-less where you are?”

“Oh, oh!” she murmured.

“Found a store about half a mile down the – well, I wouldn’t call it a road,” and Walter looked at his mud-splashed feet. “Say, rather, down the swamp. Found a store there, and I got a few things.”

“I should say you did!” exclaimed Bess, who, with Belle, had opened the packages. “This will be fine,” for Walter had purchased jellies, jams, some tinned meat, bacon, eggs and enough canned food, together with some rather doubtful oranges, to make a substantial meal.

“That looks good to me!” declared Jack, while Walter divested himself of his rubbers, and put the umbrella where it would not flood the cabin.

“Oh, and even olives!” gasped Hazel.

“Olives for Olivia,” crooned Walter. “Say, Jack, s’pose those overalls you went bathing in would be dry enough for me?”

“Sure! Try ’em on. You’ll look sweet in ’em.”

“I don’t care whether I look sweet as long as I feel dry,” retorted Walter.

And while the girls prepared the supper, he changed to the garments Jack had used, they having dried sufficiently.

With the hot tea, and with what Walter had foraged for, a really good meal was made. The young people were hungry, and their appetites made up for any lack in the nicety of the food.

“It was a regular country store,” Walter explained, “but they had some good things.”

“And now we have ’em,” murmured Jack, tipping back on his stool contentedly.

It was still early, for the storm had brought darkness ahead of time, and, unwilling to retire so soon with no very good prospects of sleeping, the boys and girls sat up and talked.

“I wonder what Mr. and Mrs. Floyd will think, when we fail to arrive on time,” remarked Cora. “I hope they don’t send telegrams home, telling the folks we have turned up missing.”

“I don’t believe they will,” argued Jack. “They’ll know the storm delayed us. And in the morning we can send telegrams ourselves, notifying our folks that we’re all right, any reports to the contrary notwithstanding.”

The girls passed a fairly comfortable, and the boys a rather uncomfortable night, but it could not, as Jack said, last forever, and a bright morning sun made them all forget the discomforts.

Hot coffee, bacon and eggs, that were fresher, Cora said, than the high-priced ones at home, made them all look at the day’s prospect with genial spirits.

“And now we’ll make another attempt to get to Camp Surprise,” said Cora, as the anchor was hauled up and the engine set in motion.

“I’m surprised that we didn’t get there before,” Jack said.

“Oh, what a miserable pun!” groaned Walter.

Good time was made to the junction where Batter Creek flowed into the Chelton river. It was not much of a junction and the creek was so unimportant a stream that Cora and her friends had never thought of going up it.

“But this time we did it in spite of ourselves,” said Bess.

“It was only because of the mist and darkness that I made the wrong turn,” declared Cora.

They stopped long enough to send reassuring telegrams home, and also one to Mr. and Mrs. Floyd, explaining the delay.

Again they were on their way up the Chelton river, and for a time all seemed to go well. But four miles from their destination, engine trouble developed, and when the cause of it was discovered, it proved to be a break that needed the attention of a machinist.

“We could leave the boat here and go on,” Cora said, “but we have made arrangements to have it taken care of at Riverhead, and the man I have engaged won’t know what to think if we don’t come.”

“Oh, let’s wait here until it’s fixed,” suggested Belle. “We want to arrive in style. It won’t take long, and to go on we’d have either to hire another boat or go by wagon.”

“All right,” Cora agreed.

The repairs took longer than they anticipated, and it was not until late afternoon that they were able to go on. This time they arrived safely at Riverhead, shortly before dusk, which was the time they should have been there the previous evening.

The man who was to dock the Corbelbes was on hand and took charge of the craft. He also directed the party to the big waiting buckboard, in charge of a driver, that had been sent by Mr. Floyd to meet the girls and boys.

“You’re a little late,” said the man. “Not that I mind, but we’ll have to make a night drive of it.”

“We don’t care,” Cora said, “as long as the roads are safe.”

“Oh, they’re safe enough.”

“What about supper?” asked Jack.

“Mrs. Floyd said she’d have it ready for you,” the driver stated.

“I’ve got some sandwiches and a box of candy,” observed Bess.

“Then we won’t starve,” said Jack.

“May blessing be upon thy head!” intoned Walter.

The driver looked at them in a queer sort of way, as though he did not know altogether how to take them, and he was heard to murmur something about “queer city folks.”

The valises and other belongings they had brought along on the motor boat were put in the big wagon, the driver climbed to his seat, and, with the shadows of night falling, they set off up the mountain for Camp Surprise.

“Some buckboard this!” remarked Jack, as he surveyed the vehicle.

“It sure is,” responded Walter. “The largest buckboard I ever saw.”

CHAPTER XI – IN CAMP SURPRISE

“Isn’t it dark!” voiced Belle, nestling against her sister.

“Well, we don’t have many electric lights up here,” chuckled the driver of the buckboard.

“How do you see the road?” asked Cora, the wagon lurching along over the rocky way, though riding much easier than an ordinary vehicle would have done, for buckboards are made for just this purpose.

“I don’t try to see it,” the driver said. “I let the horses pick their way. They’re like cats, I reckon – can see in the dark.”

“What sort of place is this Camp Surprise?” asked Jack, giving Walter, next to whom he sat, a nudge as a signal to play second to his game of questioning. “We’ll get some inside information about this business,” Jack said in an aside to his chum.

“Camp Surprise?” repeated the driver. “Well, it’s a mighty nice place, as far as scenery goes – for them as likes scenery,” he hastened to add. “I don’t care much for it myself. There’s a waterfall, and a little lake, though I don’t reckon you could get your boat up to it,” and he chuckled. “Yes, folks what come up here always like this neighborhood, and Camp Surprise is one of the best outfits around here. You boys are going to take the small bungalow, I hear.”