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

“It’s easier to get into the wilderness sometimes than it is to get out of it,” added Bess.

“I guess it’s safe enough,” remarked Jack. “We won’t go very far, and I have a compass with me, anyway.”

There was no further protest. The boys went back to the cars and got the lunch basket. Then they rejoined the girls, and the party plunged gaily into the woods.

“We don’t know where we’re going, but we’re on the way,” chanted Walter.

There was a trail that had evidently been used by the lumberjacks, and the walking was easy.

So easy, in fact, and the balsam in the air was so stimulating and delightful, that the party had gone a good deal farther than they had first intended to before they came to a halt in a mossy glade that seemed to be especially designed by nature for a picnic party.

A little brook ran near by, and the boys brought drinking water from this, while the girls brought out the napkins and spread on them the host of good things that Aunt Betty had had put up for them.

There were no dyspeptics in the party, and the food vanished in amazing fashion, to the accompaniment of a running fire of chaff and jokes.

When the last crumb had disappeared, Walter filled one of the drinking cups with the crystal water and raised it up.

“A toast,” he cried. “I drink to Camp Kill Kare!”

They all responded merrily.

“I’m going to look around this place a little,” exclaimed Cora, rising to her feet.

“I’m just too comfortable to move,” said Bess.

“So am I,” echoed Belle.

“You’re setting an example of pernicious activity,” said Jack.

“I won’t go far,” Cora assured him.

She strolled about for a little while, picking an occasional flower and observing with interest the nicks made in the trees by the woodchoppers. The woods closed around her and shut her out of sight of the others. But she gave no thought to this, for she knew that they could locate her by a call, even though she was invisible.

From the bushes in front of her, a mother bird darted out and ran along the ground, twittering sharply as though in pain or alarm. Cora gazed at her, and noticed that her wing was trailing as though broken.

Her sympathies were aroused in an instant.

“Poor little thing,” she murmured to herself. “I wonder if I can’t catch her and perhaps help set that wing.”

She followed the bird for some distance, but it managed to keep just a little out of reach of her outstretched hand.

So much of design appeared in this that at last the truth dawned upon Cora, and she laughed outright.

“You little fibber!” she exclaimed. “You haven’t any broken wing at all. You’re just trying to draw me away from your nest, so that I sha’n’t find your babies.”

To make sure that her guess was correct, she followed the bird a little farther. Then the little creature seemed to realize that she had accomplished her object, and rising from the ground, she soared swiftly away.

“Sold!” laughed Cora to herself. “I’ll have to tell the others about that. They’ll have the laugh on me, of course, but it’s too good to keep. But I’d better go back or they’ll begin to get worried about me.”

She turned in the direction of the picnic party, as she thought, and began to walk rapidly. But at the end of five minutes she saw no trace of them and a vague uneasiness began to take possession of her.

“That little cheat must have led me a good deal farther than I thought,” she said to herself. “I guess I’d better call out to them.”

She sent out a loud yodel, such as she and the other girls were accustomed to use as a call, and waited expectantly for an answer.

But no answer came.

She repeated the call, but with the same result.

“It must be these trees,” she assured herself. “They smother the sound so that it can’t go more than a few rods. I’ll go on a little farther and try again.”

She almost ran now, stumbling occasionally in her haste, and trying to crowd back an awful fear that was rapidly taking form.

Once more she stood still and called at the top of her voice, called desperately, frantically, repeatedly. But for all the response she received she might as well have been in the center of the Sahara desert.

Then she stumbled over a tree root and rolled over and over down the mountain side, to bring up at last in a wilderness of brushwood.

She was dazed for a few moments by the fall, but soon realized that she was not hurt. She arose and pushed her way in a zigzag course, trying to mount the hillside down which she had fallen.

CHAPTER XIV

IN THE WILDERNESS

Cora was lost!

For an hour past she had refused to admit it to herself. The utmost that she would concede was that she had become separated from her party. But that of course often happened, was bound to happen again and again, when one was out in the woods.

Jack and the rest must be looking for her as eagerly as she was for them. How heartily they would laugh and joke over the needless fears that had assailed her when she first realized that she was alone.

So she had reasoned with herself, thrusting resolutely into the background the terrible dread that kept trying to get possession of her mind, marshaling all the pathetic sophistries by which those in similar plight have tried to delude themselves from the beginning of the world. But with every moment that passed she grew more certain of the truth, until she seated herself on a fallen tree, and, burying her face in her hands, gave way to the tears she tried in vain to hold back.

There was no use in blinking the fact. She was lost in the Adirondack wilderness, cut off for the time being from her friends, doomed perhaps to suffer incredible hardships before she should be rescued. She shuddered as she recalled instances of others, lost in that vast region, strong men, some of them, for whom rescue had arrived too late.

She pressed her fingers into her throbbing temples and tried to think. But her head swam, and it was only by a strong exertion of her will that she was able to pull herself together. It was some minutes before she had herself well in hand and was able to bring all her powers to bear on the problem before her. That problem had suddenly assumed gigantic proportions. Unless she solved it correctly, her life might pay the penalty.

“What shall I do?” she asked herself. “What shall I do?”

North, east, south, west, wherever she looked she could see nothing resembling a trail. In all that tangle of trees, rocks and undergrowth there was no indication that the foot of man had ever disturbed its solitude. And as Cora looked wildly about her, the forest seemed to mock her with a lurking smile as though taunting her helplessness.

But she resolutely crushed back the feeling of panic that clutched at her heart and hunted about desperately to get her bearings. It was ridiculous, she told herself, that she should not find something that would give her the needed clue.

She knew in a general way that the bungalow lay a little north of east. It was not much to go by, but if she could keep in that line it might make all the difference between safety and disaster.

But how was she to find the cardinal points? She had no compass with her. And then her heart gave a great bound as she thought of her watch!

Like all the Motor Girls, Cora, in her frequent journeyings, had picked up a good many points of woodcraft. Among others, she knew how by a simple device to locate the south, and with this as a starter find the other points of the compass.

Where she sat, the trees were so thick that a perpetual twilight reigned beneath. A little to the right, however, they thinned out somewhat, and rays of light fell through the foliage. Here was her chance to get an idea of the sun’s location.

She went hurriedly to the spot and opening her watch carefully turned it until the figure twelve pointed directly at the sun. Then she measured half the distance between twelve and the hour hand and knew that this central point indicated due south. Directly opposite, of course, was north. Standing, then, with her face to the north, it followed that the east was on her right hand and the west on her left.

She had a tiny penknife with her, and with this she cut two strips of bark and dovetailed them in the form of a cross, so that each of the four ends stood for one of the cardinal points. On these she cut the appropriate initials and carefully planted it in the ground at her feet. Then she put back her watch with a sigh of satisfaction.

Now she had at least a point of departure. All she had to do was to start in the right direction and depend upon further glimpses of the sun to correct her course from time to time.

From the beginning her progress was slow, owing to the absence of a trail and the necessity of forcing her way through the underbrush. At times she had to make a considerable detour, to avoid brush so thickly matted that she could not penetrate it. This of necessity threw her out of the course she was trying to keep. And her consternation was great to find, on reaching a more open spot, that the sun was now hidden by thick clouds.

Still she went doggedly on for two hours or more, taxing every ounce of courage and resolution that she possessed, finding a mental relief in the physical effort that kept her from dwelling too intently on her desperate plight. The afternoon was rapidly waning and the gloom of the forest was deepening into dusk. And just then, panting with fatigue and exhaustion, her eye caught something familiar close to her feet.

It was the cross of bark that she had made two hours earlier!

This, then, was the reward of all her exertions. Obeying that inexorable and malign law that seems to hound desert and forest wanderers, she had worked around in a circle to the very point from which she had started!

For a moment it seemed to Cora that she must be dreaming. She could not bring herself to admit that all the toil and effort of the afternoon had come only to this. It was absurd, ridiculous! She rubbed her eyes and looked again. It was only too surely the fact. There was the little cross with the edges still raw from the blade of her knife.

Fate had played a cruel joke on her – a joke that might prove to be deadly. She had taxed her muscles until she was dropping with weariness, kept up her courage with the thought that she was making progress, only to find that all was utterly wasted, and that she was no nearer safety than when she had started. The reaction came on her with a rush and for a moment she thought she was going to faint.

Now, for the first time, the full horror of her situation dawned on her. As long as she had kept in motion, she had been buoyed up by the thought that at any minute she might win her way to safety. But now her chance, for the day at least, was gone. She was alone, cut off from all human companionship in that vast wilderness, and night was coming on!

What was to be her fate? She had everything to live for, youth, health, friends, home and love. She was just on the brink of womanhood, and life ran at full tide through her veins. The future stretched before her, glowing with promise and with hands heaped high with treasures. She was just getting ready to drink the wine of life. Was the cup to be dashed rudely to the ground, just as she was lifting it to her lips?

For a little while she surrendered to these gloomy imaginings. The shock had been too severe for her to rally all at once. Then she took a grip on herself.

For it was not in Cora’s nature to yield tamely to despair. Her heart was naturally brave and she came of fighting stock. It was good red blood that ran in Cora’s veins, and now, as the first depression passed, it began to assert itself.

Not that she attempted longer to deceive herself. She admitted that her plight was desperate. But it was not hopeless. It never would be that, she told herself, as long as a spark of life was left. She would work, plan, struggle and never give up.

But where would she find shelter for the night? In some dense thicket? In a hollow tree? She shuddered as she thought of spending the night entirely in the open. What wild animals might be abroad, coming out, soft-footed and wary, to make their nightly kill? She knew that there were bears, wolves and lynxes in these forests, and also rattlesnakes. Without anything approaching a weapon, what chance would she have in case of attack?

If she only had some matches! None of the beasts would dare to touch her if she were seated close to a roaring fire. They might prowl about and eye her hungrily, but no matter how famished or savage they were, they would not venture into that zone of flame.

But a fire was impossible. And as Cora realized this, she looked about her wildly, as though she expected even in the twilight to hear a stealthy footfall or see a pair of phosphorescent eyes glaring at her. She could almost hear the pounding of her heart.

She must find shelter in the few minutes of daylight that remained. There was nothing to gain and everything to lose by staying where she was. With a little prayer on her lips, she set off, choosing no particular direction, but trusting to Providence to direct her.

Five minutes later she gave a joyous cry, and ran forward to a tiny hut that stood in a little clearing.

It was a rude cabin of a single room. Its weather-beaten and dilapidated appearance showed that it had been knocked together a long time previously, probably by some trapper or hunter. Part of the thatched roof had sagged in, leaving rifts open to the sky.

On the earthen floor within were the ashes of a fire and several rusty pans and skillets, abandoned or forgotten by the last occupant. In the center was a bunk, consisting of four uprights, to which were fastened ropes that crossed and criss-crossed each other to form a rough mattress. A door swung loosely from the rusted hinges.

From all appearances, no one had been in the place for years. Cora rushed inside, pulled the door shut and slipped a bar that she found within into place. Then she sat down on the cord mattress and cried with thankfulness.

From all the terrors of a night spent in the open forest she was safe.

Night had fully fallen now, and the myriad voices of the forest were in full swing. It was nature’s symphony on a colossal scale. Locusts, crickets and katydids sought to outdo each other. From the trees came the hoot of owls and the mournful notes of the whippoorwill.

Now that she was temporarily safe, Cora was conscious of being hungry. She had been so absorbed in her attempt to escape from the captivity of the forest that she had not even thought of food. Now she realized that her healthy appetite was clamoring for satisfaction.

Suddenly she remembered that she had slipped a tablet of chocolate in the pocket of her blouse that morning, to nibble at on the trip. She had forgotten all about it till now, and she thanked the fates for the oversight.

She drew it out, and as she did so she felt two other objects that she had not known were there. She drew them out and found that they were two cubes of compressed soup stock, wrapped in little pieces of waxed paper.

How on earth had they gotten there? Some trick played by Bess or Belle probably. They had slipped them in when she had not been looking, just for the sake of seeing her perplexed expression when she should discover them. That must be the explanation.

Her spirits rose with the discovery. If she could only have had a can of water and a fire, she could have made a delicious soup. But this was out of the question, and she had to content herself with putting one of the precious cubes in her mouth and letting it slowly dissolve. It was rather dry eating, but the nourishment was there.

She was sorely tempted to let the other cube and the tablet of chocolate take the same course, as all of them together would have made but a slender meal. But prudence spoke more loudly than appetite and she crushed down the temptation. Although it taxed her resolution sorely, she thrust them back into her pocket.

She lay down on the rude mattress, although she was sure that she would not close her eyes the whole night through. But she was utterly used up by the terrible strain of the day’s experience, and tired nature demanded her rights. Sleep laid its soothing fingers on her eyelids, and all her troubles were, for the time being, forgotten.

CHAPTER XV

CONSTERNATION

It may have been the drowsy charm of the day, the soothing murmur of the brook, or the satisfying quality of the lunch, or perhaps a combination of the three, that made the little party under the trees so content to sit still or lie still for a considerable time after Cora left them.

“This is dolce far niente for fair,” murmured Jack lazily.

“I’d agree with you,” drawled Paul, “if I only knew what you meant. Talk United States.”

“Why, it means something like ‘the happiness of doing nothing,’ I believe,” explained Jack.

“It seems to make a hit with you,” remarked Belle.

“It does,” admitted Jack brazenly.

“I declare, you boys are like so many stuffed anacondas stretched out there,” observed Bess.

“We’re members of the Amalgamated Order of the Sons of Rest,” said Walter.

“Come along, Belle,” said Bess, rising. “If we stay here much longer we’ll grow to be as lazy as they are. Let’s go and find Cora. She’s the only real live wire in the whole party.”

“You do yourselves an injustice,” Jack called after them.

The girls went off in the direction that Cora had taken, keeping a sharp lookout as they went along.

“It’s queer that she hasn’t come back of her own accord by this time,” remarked Belle.

“She’s probably gathering flowers,” replied Bess. “There are so many beautiful varieties around here.” But Belle grew more uneasy every second.

“I’m going to call her,” she said, and gave the familiar yodel on which Cora herself had relied in vain.

But no answer came back, and the girls looked at each other with unrest in their eyes.

“Do you think she’s teasing us by pretending not to hear?” asked Belle.

“No,” replied her sister, “that wouldn’t be like Cora. She knows how that would worry us.”

“Let’s try both together,” suggested Belle, and they gave out a call in unison.

Again there was no response, and thoroughly frightened now, the girls ran back to their companions.

“Oh, Jack,” exclaimed Belle, “we can’t find Cora!”

“What!” cried the boys, leaping to their feet.

“It’s true,” confirmed Bess. “We’ve called her again and again, and we can’t get any answer.”

Jack grew pale beneath his coat of tan.

“It can’t be!” he cried. “You didn’t call loud enough. Cora, oh, Cora!” he shouted at the top of his voice.

Paul and Walter joined in with stentorian yells, but their united efforts had no result.

“There’s got to be some quick work here, fellows!” cried Jack, a cold perspiration breaking out all over him. “You girls stay right here,” he commanded. “Don’t stir from this spot. We three fellows will spread out in a semicircle, and beat up the woods in the general direction that Cora started out in. We’ll spread out as widely as we can, but we mustn’t get so far apart that we can’t hear each other shout. We’ll keep calling out all the time, so as to keep in touch with each other. If at the end of half an hour we haven’t found any trace of her, we’ll know that she isn’t in this section and we’ll hurry back to the girls here. Then we’ll raise a hue and cry and get the whole district out searching for her. Come along now and keep your voices going. And keep your eyes open, too. She may have met with an accident. Work, fellows! Work like mad!”

The others needed no urging, for they were wild with fear for Cora’s safety.

For the next half-hour they yelled until they were hoarse, and covered as much territory as they could. They peered into every bush and thicket. Not one of them but thought of the ugly monster they had seen in the road that morning. Suppose one of this tribe had attacked the girl who was so dear to all of them? Suppose at that very moment she were lying somewhere helpless and dying?

They looked everywhere in an agony of apprehension, but Cora’s wandering feet and her fall down the mountainside had already carried her far beyond sound or sight.

At the appointed time they rejoined the girls.

“No use,” announced Jack, in a voice that he tried to keep firm, despite the working of his features. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. You stay here, Paul, until further notice. If Cora comes back, you have an easy trail from here to the mill. There’s a telephone there, and of course you’d call up Kill Kare at once with the good news. Walter and I will go back with Bess and Belle to the mill. Then Walter can drive the girls to Kill Kare in one of the cars, leave them with Aunt Betty, and bring Joel back with him to the mill. I’ll get all the men that I can at the mill to join in the search. Those lumberjacks know the woods thoroughly. Then, too, I’ll telephone to all the neighboring towns and camps and call for volunteers. We’ll comb these woods all day and all night until we find her.”

He and Walter hurried off with the girls, leaving Paul behind. They reached the sawmill in record time, and leaving Jack there to explain the situation and carry out the plans agreed upon, Walter drove the girls home.

It had been thought at first that it would be well to leave Aunt Betty in ignorance of the affair, in order to spare her misery. But on second thought this idea had been dismissed. It would not be fair to her, in a matter of such moment, to treat her as a child, even with the best of motives. Besides it was morally certain that the girls would not be able to conceal their grief from her, no matter how hard they tried.

She was waiting for them as they drove up and greeted them with her usual kindly smile.

“Where are the others?” she inquired. “And what on earth is the matter with you two girls?” she added in quick alarm as she saw their eyes red and swollen with weeping.

“Don’t be alarmed, Aunt Betty,” said Walter, as lightly as he could. “The girls are a little worried because Cora strayed off a little way into the woods and we haven’t found her. But she can’t have gone very far, and we’ll find her and have her back to Kill Kare in a jiffy. Jack and Paul are looking for her now, and I’m going back to help them.”

Aunt Betty gave a frightened exclamation and put her hand to her heart.

“Cora lost!” she ejaculated. “And in those awful woods! Oh, why did you let her get away from you? The poor darling girl!”

“We boys ought to be kicked from here to Jericho for letting her out of our sight,” said Walter in savage self-reproach. “But the mischief’s done now, and we’ve got to remedy it as best we can. You take care of the girls, Aunt Betty, while I go and hunt up Joel. I’m going to take him back with me.”

He hurried away, leaving the three to condole with each other. He was lucky enough to find Joel in the barn, and hastily explained the state of affairs.

The big backwoodsman was thoroughly alarmed. Better than any one else at Kill Kare, he knew the dangers that threatened any tyro that ventured into that wilderness. There had been cases within his own knowledge where hapless wanderers had perished, even while the woods were alive with searching parties.

He put his hunting knife in his belt, grasped his rifle and hurried back with Walter to the sawmill.

Meanwhile, Jack told his story to the foreman, and received his instant sympathy and promise to help. He called for volunteers, and a number of the men who were working in the mill responded promptly. Some of them had already started out when Walter arrived, and others quickly followed.

Baxter too was stirred by the story and came out of his shell of reticence. He volunteered to take charge of the telephoning, leaving Jack to go out with the searching parties.

“I know personally the authorities in the nearest towns,” he said, “and they’ll be glad to oblige me in this. You’re too excited and on edge to stay here, and I don’t wonder. You go ahead and look for your sister and leave this to me. Before long I’ll have a dozen parties out on the trail.”

Jack gladly availed himself of the offer, and, in company with Walter and Joel, hurried with feverish haste up the hillside and plunged into the woods.