The Motor Girls in the Mountains: or, The Gypsy Girl's Secret

“Who was that woman,” asked Bess, turning to Cora, “who said that the more she saw of men the more fond she grew of dogs?”

“Poor, misguided female,” said Paul pityingly. “I suppose she was an inmate of a lunatic asylum.”

“More to be pitied than censured,” added Jack.

By this time they had reached dessert, and when they had finished, Aunt Betty proposed an adjournment to the porch.

“It’s perfectly dry and snug out here,” she said, “and I think the rain will be over soon anyway. When it rains so hard up here it doesn’t last very long. But you girls had better get some wraps, for even though it is August, the nights are rather cool, especially after a storm.”

There was an abundance of big, comfortable chairs on the porch, and they grouped them into a semi-circle and sat laughing and talking, on the best of terms with themselves and the world.

“That was rather a narrow escape we had this afternoon,” remarked Bess. “If we had been a hundred feet further on the road than we were, that tree would have come down plump on top of us.”

“A miss is as good as a mile,” returned Jack lightly.

“By the way, I suppose those poor old cars of ours are getting a thorough soaking,” observed Cora. “What are you going to do about them, boys? It doesn’t seem to me that we ought to let them stay there all night.”

“I guess it’s up to us fellows to take a turn down there and look them over,” answered Jack. “The fact is that I’ve had such a good dinner that I feel too lazy to move. But far be it from me to resist the plain call of duty.”

“What’s the matter with us girls going along with you?” asked Bess.

Aunt Betty looked aghast.

“What, in all this mud and rain?” she protested.

“You forget that we Motor Girls are used to being out in all kinds of weather,” laughed Cora. “But we’ll promise to wrap up well if you let us go. It’s lucky that our trunks were sent on up here ahead of us, so that we have our rubbers and raincoats all ready to get into. Besides, it’s practically stopped raining now.”

Aunt Betty was very easily won over.

“I’ll send Joel, the stableman, along with a lantern,” she said. “He knows the woods like a book by night or day. Then, too, he’s as strong as an ox, and he can help to get the cars out of the fix.”

“And we’ll take a couple of axes along,” said Jack. “I have an idea some tall chopping will have to be done before we get the cars where they belong.”

The girls went up to get their raincoats and overshoes, while the boys got their hats and hunted up Joel.

He was a tall, gaunt backwoodsman, who in his earlier days had been a guide in the Adirondack region. But periodic attacks of rheumatism had made it difficult for him to continue his calling, and he had become the man of all work at Kill Kare Camp. He knew the forest thoroughly and had an intimate acquaintance with the habits of every creature that had fur, fin or feather.

Despite his somewhat advanced years, he was still a powerful man, and his strength was equaled by his good-nature and reliability.

The boys liked him at once, and he on his part was very friendly and cordial.

“So you’ve got a couple o’ them buzz wagons stalled there,” he said. “Never rode in one in my life, but the pesky things suttinly have it all over a hoss when it comes to git up and git.”

“You’ve got a treat waiting for you, then, Joel,” laughed Jack. “Some day we’ll take you riding, and you’ll go so fast you’ll have to hold on to your hair to keep it from being blown off.”

“I ain’t prezactly pinin’ fur no sich speed as that,” said Joel. “I sh’d think them gals w’u’d be skeered to death to ride in one uv them.”

“They drive them as well as ride in them,” returned Jack. “My sister can handle one of them as well as any man can. You ought to have seen the race she gave me yesterday.”

“Ye don’t say so!” replied Joel, and it was evident that his respect for the feminine members of the party had gone up several degrees.

They were soon equipped with a lantern and three axes. In addition, Joel took along some sticks of resinous wood to serve as torches, and they came around to the front porch, where they found the girls impatiently waiting for them.

All started out in high spirits, Joel leading the way. The road was muddy, but they found fairly good footing on the turf that bordered it. The rain had now entirely ceased.

It was not long before they reached the fallen tree, and they found the cars standing where they had left them.

“Ye needn’t hev bin much skeered,” grinned Joel. “There ain’t many folks come along this way, an’ them that do is giner’lly honest. It’s only when the gypsies come round thet we hev to keep a tight grip on things, specially hosses. Them gypsies suttinly is light-fingered, an’ they kin beat a weasel in gittin’ into places where they ain’t got no business to be.”

“We saw a camp of them to-day,” said Cora, in whom the word “gypsy” just now woke an instant response.

“Is thet so?” asked Joel in surprise. “Then they’re probably headed up this way. I heven’t seen ’em around these diggin’s fur sev’ral years now, and I wuz hopin’ I’d never see their ugly faces ag’in.”

“I’d like to see Joel go to the mat with that pirate that took the girl away from us to-day,” grinned Jack.

“It would be some scrap,” agreed Walter, as he took in the brawn and bulk of the backwoodsman. “I’d bet on Joel unless the other fellow used a knife.”

In order to see more clearly what they were doing, the torches were lighted and placed where they would do the most good. Then Joel surveyed the scene of action.

“There’s jist one thing to do,” he finally announced, “an’ thet is to cut through this tree an’ git it off uv the road. It might be a leetle bit easier to git the cars around through the brush, but the tree can’t be let to stay there blockin’ up the road, an’ I might ez well git it out of the way fust ez last.”

He took off his corduroy jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, showing the mighty biceps beneath.

“You’re not going to do it all alone,” protested Jack. “Let us help. There are two axes besides yours.”

“Why,” said Joel a little dubiously, “you boys ain’t used to this kind uv work, an’ I’m afraid it’ll use ye up too much. It ain’t only the strength, but there’s a knack about usin’ a woodsman’s ax thet it takes time to git on to. Still, ye kin try it fur a while if ye want to.”

Jack and Paul took off their coats, while the girls, who were perched like so many birds in Jack’s car, clapped their hands in mock applause.

“Behold the gallant foresters,” sang out Belle.

“‘Woodman, spare that tree,Touch not a single bough!’”

quoted Bess.

“To-day it threatened me,I’ve no use for it now,”

improvised Cora.

“Listen to the trilling of the merry songsters,” said Jack, with impressive sarcasm. “They toil not, neither do they spin. They mock and fleer at us sons of honest toil. They – ”

“Get to work, Jack,” Cora interrupted him heartlessly. “I love to see you work. It’s so unusual. Joel will have the trunk cut through before you boys get started.”

Thus adjured, Jack and Paul started in with a right good will, each attacking the trunk at a distance of about ten feet on either side of Joel.

Both boys were strong and sturdy, and they worked the more vigorously because they were under the appraising eyes of the girls. But their work was nothing compared with Joel’s. Nowhere could there have been found a more striking illustration of the advantages of the professional over the amateur.

Joel’s work was the very poetry of motion. Back and forth his flashing ax swung tirelessly, biting with resistless force into the very heart of the tree, and in a surprisingly short time he had cut the trunk entirely through.

Walter took his turn with the other boys and did valiant execution. But all were soon winded with their unusual exertions, and were forced to rest, while the perspiration poured down their faces in streams.

“This has got it all over a Turkish bath,” muttered Jack.

“I’ll bet I’ve lost five pounds in as many minutes,” growled Paul.

“There’s an idea for you, Bess,” said her sister mischievously. “Talk about reducing. You’d be a sylph in half an hour.”

“I’d be a corpse, you mean,” responded Bess. “No, thank you. I’ll take my reducing in homeopathic doses.”

Joel at this point insisted on finishing the job. He had not turned a hair in his previous exertions, and he seemed as fresh as ever when the work was completely done.

“Now how are we going to get the logs off the road?” asked Jack.

“What’s the matter with making the car do its share of the work?” asked Cora. “We’ll fasten a rope to each one of the logs and with you men guiding them we can drag them to one side of the road.”

The plan met with instant approval and in a very few minutes the road was clear.

“Good idea, sis,” said Jack approvingly. “Now we’ll bundle these tools into the cars and go to Camp Kill Kare in style.”

CHAPTER IX

THE “WATER SPRITE”

The next morning dawned clear and beautiful. The storm of the day before had washed the dust from plants and trees, and seemed to have washed the very air itself, for it was as clear as crystal and had a tonic quality that set the blood to dancing.

Cora had awakened early and stolen to her window, where she sat entranced by the beauty of the view. But she was not allowed to enjoy it long, for there came a thundering knock on the door that made her jump.

“Come along, you sleepyheads!” sounded Jack’s voice from outside. “It’s too fine a morning to waste it in sleep.”

“Let us now be up and doing!” chanted Walter.

“The day is one to stir the sluggard blood!” added Paul.

“You boys just trot along,” sang out Cora defiantly. “We’re going to take our time.”

“You always do,” retorted Jack. “If time were money you girls would be millionaires.”

“Let them rave,” remarked Belle, as she opened her sleepy eyes.

“I’m going to have another forty winks,” said Bess, as she turned over on her pillow.

“No, you’re not!” declared Cora, as the boys went clattering down the stairs. “It’s a perfectly gorgeous day, girls, and it’s simply a crime to waste it in bed. The view from these windows is enough to make you gasp. Besides, we don’t want to keep breakfast waiting.”

Bess still protested, but yielded to the laughing threat of being dragged from bed if she did not get up of her own accord, and the girls hurried with their dressing.

They found the boys already at the table, making huge inroads on the food.

“You see we’re waiting for you,” remarked Jack, as he passed his plate for another helping of bacon and eggs.

“Yes,” replied Cora, “I see you are.”

“You’re a gallant lot!” reproached Belle.

“We didn’t think you’d get up till noon,” defended Walter.

“Besides,” added Paul, “we’ve heard of something that makes us want to hustle.”

“What is that?” asked Bess with lively interest, as the girls took their seats.

“Aunt Betty tells us that there is an old motor boat down on the lake,” replied Jack. “It hasn’t been used much for the last two or three years, and it’s probably a good deal out of repair. We thought we might be able to tinker it up and take you girls out for a sail on the lake.”

“You see, we’re always thinking of how we can give you girls a good time,” observed Paul.

“Of course you weren’t expecting to have a good time yourselves,” mocked Cora.

“I didn’t know that there was a lake so close at hand,” said Belle delightedly.

“Hadn’t I told you about it?” said Cora. “We’ve had so much to talk about that I must have omitted that from my description. But there is a beautiful mountain lake not more than five minutes’ walk from here. I didn’t know that there was a motor boat anywhere round, though. I’m wild to have a look at it.”

“Don’t spend too long a time at the table then,” admonished Jack.

“That’s pretty good, coming from you,” countered Belle. “But don’t worry. You boys live to eat, while we eat to live.”

“None of you seems to be wasting away,” retorted Jack. “But hurry along now and all will be forgiven. We fellows have got to go out and see if Joel has the tools we’ll need for tinkering up the boat.”

They excused themselves and went out, while the girls, who were all agog with the new pleasure promised them, hurried through their meal and were ready for the trip when the boys returned.

A few minutes of brisk walking brought them to the borders of a lake whose blue waters shimmered in the morning sun. An exclamation of delight broke from them as they gazed upon its beauty.

The lake stretched for about four miles in one direction and was perhaps a mile and a half in width. Near the center of it they could see a small island that appeared to be heavily wooded.

Not far from where they were standing was a small boathouse with a pier projecting into the lake. Near the end of the little dock a motor boat was moored.

“There’s the boat!” cried Jack, and they all made a rush for it.

“The Water Sprite,” read Cora from the partly effaced letters on the stern.

“It has good enough lines,” said Walter, as he ran his eyes over the boat, “but it seems as though it had been pretty well neglected.”

“The owner never used it much,” explained Jack. “He didn’t care much for the water, and when he was here spent most of his time in hunting on land.”

“Looks pretty much like junk to me,” admitted Paul, as he took in the dilapidated appearance of the boat.

The others could not help agreeing that Paul’s criticism seemed justified.

“Doesn’t look as though she’d be worth taking much trouble for, does she?” remarked Jack doubtfully.

“Well, you wouldn’t say that she’d just come from a motor-boat show,” observed Paul; “but just the same she may be a well made boat and capable of speed too if she’s put in decent condition. Of course she looks like a total loss now, but it’s wonderful what a little work will do. Let’s take a look at the engine anyway.”

They boarded the little craft and removed a tarpaulin that had been spread over the engine. The boys then proceeded to give the latter a thorough inspection, first, however, bailing out the water that had collected in the bottom of the boat.

“Say, fellows!” exclaimed Jack, as his eyes lit on the manufacturer’s name plate, “this is a good little motor, no doubt of that. You know that any engine these people put out is bound to be first class, don’t you?”

“That’s true enough,” agreed Paul, “but the best engine ever built can be ruined by carelessness and neglect.”

“Yes,” assented Walter, “but there may not be so much the matter with this chugger after all. First thing to do is to turn the old engine over and see how it sounds.” He had already put in some oil and gasoline.

“A fine idea,” panted Jack after applying all his strength to the flywheel without result. “The trouble is that it won’t turn at all.”

“Here,” said Walter, taking it from his hand, “let me try. Only you mustn’t mind if I pull the whole engine out of the boat. I’m mighty apt to if I really let myself go, you know.”

“Listen to Samson talking!” gibed Cora.

“Go ahead,” said Jack. “Look out for flying splinters, Paul. Sampson is going to tear things wide open.”

“He’s mighty strong,” mocked Paul. “He doesn’t ask you to prove it. He admits it.”

There were no flying splinters, however, for in spite of all Walter’s exertions, the engine remained immovable.

“Well, that proves that she’s a good solid boat to stand the strain,” grinned Walter, at last giving over the attempt.

“The muscles of his brawny armsAre strong as iron bands,”

jeered Cora.

“Guess there’s nothing to do,” continued Walter, “but take the engine down and see what’s wrong. It feels as though the parts had grown together.”

“Must be if you couldn’t move it,” said Jack scathingly. “But let’s get busy, fellows. I suppose the first thing to do is to get the cylinders off.”

They fell to with a will, and soon had the smaller fittings dismounted. The motor was of the two-cylinder, two-cycle type, and according to the makers’ plate was rated at six horse power. The exterior was in fairly good condition, only a few patches of rust showing here and there where the paint had been chipped off, leaving the metal exposed.

With some difficulty, the boys got the cylinders off. As they removed the front one, Jack gave a long whistle.

“I’ll bet there’s the cause of the trouble,” he said, pointing to the front cylinder.

The others examined it and Paul remarked:

“Guess it’s a case of broken piston ring, eh, Jack?”

“No doubt of it,” was the response.

And indeed this would have been plain even to the most inexperienced eye. One of the grooves cut in the piston to receive a compression ring was packed with broken bits of metal and metallic dust, many of the fragments having actually been reduced to powder.

“That’s a bad job,” remarked Walter, shaking his head. “I wonder if the cylinder itself is damaged much.”

“Easy to find out,” said Jack. “Let’s have a look.”

They were relieved to find that the cylinder was very little scored, considering the condition of the piston.

“Looks to me as if a new set of piston rings would be necessary,” judged Paul.

“That’s what,” replied Jack. “But it would probably take a week to get them from the manufacturers.”

Cora gave a little exclamation of dismay.

“And wait all that time before we can have a ride in the Water Sprite?” she asked.

“Unless you can wave a magic wand and make the pistons come running,” said Jack.

“I’m going to rummage through these lockers,” declared Cora, jumping up and going into the little cabin. “Perhaps there are some spare parts on hand.”

A moment later she gave an exclamation of triumph.

“Here they are!” she cried, holding up a pair of the much desired rings.

“Oh, I’m so glad!” exclaimed Bess.

“Takes a woman to do things,” said Belle in a superior way.

The boys looked a little sheepish, but at the same time delighted.

“She’s a fairy all right,” conceded Walter.

“You’re the real thing, sis,” beamed Jack, as he held out his hand for the rings. “And now for the dirty work.”

They adjusted the rings and overhauled the rest of the engine, which proved to be in fairly good condition. There were no radical defects, and by dint of hard work they soon had the entire machinery in what seemed to be good working order.

“There,” panted Jack, as he straightened up, “I guess we’re some little machinists, all right.”

“We ought to be able to get a union card,” said Walter.

“Toil has no terror for us!” declared Paul, striking an attitude.

“Those boys just hate themselves, don’t they?” laughed Bess.

“They’ve worked pretty hard – for them,” admitted Cora. “And as a special reward, boys,” she added generously, “we’ll let you take us for our first ride in the Water Sprite this afternoon.”

CHAPTER X

SPRINGING A LEAK

“You do us too much honor,” said Paul, making a low bow in his best Chesterfieldian manner.

“I know that perfectly well,” replied Cora; “but I happen to feel in a condescending mood.”

“Good gracious, girls!” exclaimed Belle, consulting her watch, “do you know that it’s nearly twelve o’clock? We’ve been working here all the morning.”

“We’ve been working!” repeated Jack with marked emphasis. “I can see that you’re all out of breath.”

“‘Those also serve who only stand and wait.’”

“That’s the kind of job I’d like,” said Walter, wiping the perspiration from his face.

“No chance,” opined Paul. “The girls have got in ahead of us.”

“Well, I notice you wouldn’t have been very far ahead if Cora hadn’t found those rings,” retorted Bess.

“You boys are well enough where only muscle is concerned,” said Belle patronizingly, “but when it comes to a matter of brains you’re not in the same class with us.”

They hurried back to the house, where they found a substantial meal ready for them. Then the girls put on their boating togs, and they started out to try the sailing qualities of the rejuvenated Water Sprite.

The boys cast off the moorings, and Cora, who could run a boat as well as any one, took her place at the wheel. Jack stayed near the engine, where he could keep an eye on its workings, and the rest disposed themselves wherever they could be most comfortable.

There was hardly any wind blowing and the water was scarcely stirred by a ripple. It was an ideal day for boating and they were prepared to enjoy it to the full.

The boat darted away from the dock as though it shared the jubilant spirits of the party, and Jack observed with great satisfaction that the engine was chugging away without missing a beat.

“She’s working like a dream,” he announced.

“And look at the way she minds the wheel,” said Cora. “She yields to the slightest touch. It’s no trouble at all to handle her.”

“That’s where she differs from most members of the fair sex,” hazarded Walter.

“And see how fast she’s going,” said Bess, ignoring the gibe. “We’re half a mile from shore already.”

“Let’s hug the shore and go all the way around the lake. We may be able to pick out some splendid spots to go picnicking in.”

“And on the way back let’s land on the island,” suggested Bess. “I wonder if anybody lives there.”

“Joel told me that there was a man who had a cabin over there and comes up here almost every summer,” replied Jack. “He lives all alone, and spends his time in collecting plants and flowers. Joel can’t understand that. Thinks he’s a bug. I suppose he’s a botanist or something of the kind.”

“Well, he ought to have plenty of chances on that island,” remarked Cora as her eye took in the luxuriant verdure of the place.

“Perhaps he wouldn’t care to have us break in upon him,” observed Belle. “He may be of the crank or hermit type.”

“Or a woman-hater,” laughed Bess.

“If he is, you’ll cure him,” declared Walter gallantly.

“I guess he won’t object,” said Paul. “Anyway, he doesn’t own the island. He just camps out on it, and we have as much right there as he has.”

They had quickly reached the further end of the lake, and kept up a running fire of delighted exclamations at the beauties that nature had flung about this favored place with reckless prodigality.

“If a painter could only put it on canvas,” sighed Cora.

“He never could!” exclaimed Belle. “The best he could do would be a poor imitation.”

Suddenly Bess drew up her foot.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, “my foot is soaking wet!”

Jack looked at the bottom of the boat.

“It’s a little water that’s seeped in,” he remarked. “We’ll get the bailer from the cabin locker and throw it out.”

Walter bestirred himself and got the bailer. But after he had used it for a minute, a puzzled look came into his face.

“It’s coming in faster than I can get it out,” he said.

Belle uttered a little cry, and Bess became a trifle pale.

The other boys crowded around Walter.

“It is coming in pretty fast for a fact,” muttered Paul.

“We’ll all have to get at it,” said Jack soberly.

There was only one bailer in the boat, and there was nothing else in the shape of a can or pail.

“Take off your sweaters,” said Jack to the boys. “Soak up the water and wring them out over the side of the boat. Lively now!”

A moment more and the boys were working like beavers.

“It must have been the straining of the engine,” explained Jack. “It’s started a board in the old tub. Work like the mischief, boys!”

Bess and Belle were huddled together in alarm, but they said nothing to betray the panic that was growing upon them.

Cora’s lips were pressed a little more tightly together and her cheeks were a trifle pale. But her eyes were glowing like stars, and were full of courage and determination.

She gave the wheel a turn and headed straight for the island, which was the nearest land.

The water continued to gain, and as the boat settled a trifle in consequence of the added weight, its progress was necessarily slower.

The boys were working frantically. Bess and Belle would have gladly helped, but in the narrow limits of the boat they would only have been in the way.

The open space in the bottom of the boat was yawning now. Jack doubled up his sweater and thrust it into the opening, while the others continued to bail.