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

The girls took charge of Cora now, and although the boys remonstrated, she was borne away to her room to rest and bathe and change her clothes.

“And now,” said Jack, drawing a long breath, “it’s up to us to get busy and call off the searching parties. I suppose I ought to have done it the moment Cora landed, but for the life of me I couldn’t tear myself away.”

“You’re excusable,” laughed Walter. “But you stay right at home, old man, with your sister. Paul and I will get on the job and attend to everything.”

Jack protested, but they would take no denial. They jumped into the car and whizzed down to the sawmill.

They found the foreman and Baxter deep in consultation. The latter saw at once from the boys’ faces that they had good news, and hurried to meet them.

“We’ve got her!” cried Walter.

“Safe and sound at Kill Kare,” added Paul.

“You don’t say!” exclaimed the foreman with a broad smile.

“Bully!” cried Baxter in great relief.

“Where did you find her?” asked the foreman.

“We didn’t find her at all,” grinned Paul. “She found us.”

“Came back by the sky route,” chuckled Walter.

Then, as they saw the mystified looks, they hastened to explain.

“That aeroplane!” exclaimed Baxter. “We were watching it fly over here a little while ago.”

“It was too far up for us to see that there were two in it,” remarked the foreman. “Well, I guess Miss Kimball can claim that she’s the only person that has ever been brought out of the woods in any such way as that.”

“And by a woman aviator, too,” observed Baxter. “I’ve never had much faith in women taking up flying, but I’m glad now they have. It beats the Dutch what the women are doing these days.”

“They’ll make us men take to cover if we don’t watch out,” laughed Walter. “But now we’ve got to hustle and call off the men who are beating the woods. We can’t thank you folks enough for all you have done for us.”

“We’d like to leave some money with you to pay the men for their trouble and time,” added Paul.

“Not a cent,” said the foreman decidedly. “Their wages go on just the same, and they’d only feel hurt if you offered it. It’s just a case of common humanity, and they’ve all been glad to volunteer.”

“Well, anyway,” said Paul, “we’ll have a big open air spread on the lawn at Kill Kare to celebrate Miss Kimball’s safe return, and we want all the sawmill crew up there to the last man.”

“That’s different,” grinned the foreman. “They’ll all come to that. But you’re taking a pretty big contract if you undertake to give a spread to my lumberjacks.”

“You can’t frighten us,” laughed Walter. “We’ll fill them up to the chin.”

Baxter undertook to telephone the news to all those whom he had previously called upon for help, and the boys, leaving their car at the mill, hastened to the rendezvous in the forest.

Joel was in charge, and a number of weary searchers who had dragged themselves in were sitting about, munching sandwiches and drinking coffee.

The boys whooped out a yodel as soon as they came in sight, and waved their hats.

The men jumped to their feet, and Joel came running out to meet the bearers of good news.

“Thank the good Lord!” he exclaimed, as he saw their jubilant faces. “I don’t need to ask what’s happened. You’ve found ’er.”

“We’ve got her,” beamed Paul.

“An’ wuzn’t she hurt none?” asked Joel.

“Nothing but a few scratches.”

The men crowded round with eager questions, and their delight was unbounded, for none knew better than they what risks Cora had run in those trackless woods.

One of the men volunteered to stay behind and notify the other searchers as they should come in, and then, with hearts light as thistledown, the boys and Joel retraced their steps to the mill, jumped into the car and “burned up” the road on the way to Kill Kare.

They had gone perhaps half the distance when they saw a figure on the side of the road that somehow seemed familiar.

They slowed up a little as the man approached, and then Paul gave a low whistle.

“It’s that old pirate that took the gypsy girl away from us the other morning!” he ejaculated.

“So it is,” replied Walter, as he took a closer look. “I wonder what the old rascal is doing around here.”

“Up to no good, I’ll be bound,” remarked Joel, his old antipathy toward the vagrant people asserting itself.

“I’ve a good mind to speak to him,” said Paul, who was driving, as he slowed up a little.

“What’s the use?” replied Walter. “You won’t get anything out of him that he doesn’t want to tell you. And that’ll be mighty little, or I miss my guess.”

The gypsy had looked up as the car approached, and it was apparent that he had recognized the boys, for the same scowl came over his face that they had seen on the first occasion of meeting.

“Hello, friend,” said Paul, as the car stopped close beside the gypsy.

The man looked at him sullenly, but did not respond.

“Is your camp anywhere around here?” asked Walter.

The man shrugged his shoulders.

“No understand,” he said blankly.

They tried again with the same result, and as there was evidently no chance of getting an answer, they drove on.

“If we’d promised to give him a five dollar bill, he’d have understood all right,” laughed Walter.

“I’ll bet he’s prospecting around to find a good location for the camp,” observed Paul.

“It’s time then to put double locks on houses and barns,” growled Joel. “I’d hoped thet I’d never see hide nur hair uv them light-fingered varmints ag’in.”

CHAPTER XIX

AN UNINVITED GUEST

Cora was not visible when the party drove up to the bungalow, for Aunt Betty and the girls had put her to bed, with strict injunctions that she should stay there for the rest of the day. She had objected at first, but at last had yielded. And to tell the truth, she was not sorry to yield to their gentle compulsion, for although she was little the worse physically from her adventure, she had been under a terrific nervous strain that had taxed her heavily.

But she appeared at supper time, fresh and radiant, her eyes sparkling and her spirits high.

“I declare it’s almost worth being lost for the sake of being made so much of when one gets back,” she declared, with a loving look round at the circle of friends, who could scarcely take their eyes off her.

“Why shouldn’t we make much of one who comes to us straight from the skies?” said Walter.

“There’s one less angel up there now,” added Paul.

“But don’t let me catch you running away again, sis,” said Jack, with mock severity. “We’ll forgive you this time, but once is plenty. I don’t know but what I ought to put a ball and chain on you as it is.”

“You needn’t worry,” answered Cora. “I’m cured. I’ll stick to the rest of you now closer than your shadows.”

“By the way,” remarked Walter, as he passed his plate, “we met an old friend of yours on our way back from the mill this morning.”

“Who was that?” asked Cora with interest.

“Give you three guesses,” teased Paul.

She ventured several names and then gave it up.

“It was that dark-skinned gypsy who interfered the other morning, when you girls were going to have your fortunes told,” said Walter.

Cora was all interest in an instant.

“And did you see the girl?” she asked eagerly.

“She wasn’t along,” replied Paul. “The man was all by his lonesome.”

“A regular brigand he was, too,” commented Walter. “I’d hate to meet him at night in a dark alley.”

“We tried to talk to him,” explained Paul, “but he shut up like a clam. Pretended he couldn’t understand.”

“The rest of the gypsies can’t be far off,” observed Belle.

“Wouldn’t it be fine if they camped somewhere in this neighborhood?” said Bess.

“I wish they would,” replied Cora. “I’m crazy to have another talk with that gypsy girl.”

“I’m afraid Joel doesn’t share your sentiments,” laughed Walter. “To speak of gypsy to him is like waving a red rag at a bull.”

“They’re not very likely to settle down here,” declared Jack. “They usually pitch their tents somewhere in the vicinity of a town, so that they can have plenty of visitors. The nearest place to this spot they’d be likely to fix on is Wilton. That’s quite a good-sized town, and there’s a big summer hotel there. But that’s as much as four miles away.”

“What’s distance to us as long as we have the cars?” said Cora. “For that matter, it wouldn’t be too far to walk. I wish you boys would keep your eyes and ears open and let us know if you find out anything about them.”

They promised readily, but several days passed without any scrap of news from the wandering tribe.

One other bit of news, however, gave them unqualified pleasure. They learned from a paper that Jack secured on a trip to a neighboring town that Miss Moore had safely landed at Governor’s Island and had broken all records for a cross-country flight.

“Oh, I’m so glad!” exclaimed Cora, clapping her hands. “I’ve been worrying ever since that morning for fear I’d caused her to lose, and I know how much her mind was set on winning.”

And forthwith she dispatched a telegram, care of the Aero Club, that read:

“Your grateful passenger sends warmest love and congratulations.”

And it may well be guessed that few of the messages that overwhelmed Miss Moore on the completion of her wonderful feat brought her more real satisfaction than this.

“I’m pining away for a trip on the lake,” announced Belle, one beautiful morning a few days later.

“Let’s picnic up at the farther end of the lake,” said Cora. “I noticed the loveliest spot for an outing the last time we were up there.”

“Your wish is our command,” said Jack with exaggerated courtesy. “I’d have suggested it before, if I hadn’t thought you girls might feel a wee bit nervous about the Water Sprite after the narrow escape we had last time. But we’ve spent a good deal of time in fixing her up since then, and now she’s perfectly safe.”

“We’re not a bit afraid,” was the unanimous verdict of the girls.

“And let’s get a few fish on the way,” said Walter. “There’s nothing that tastes better than a fish fry under the trees. And I know a way of broiling them on oak twigs that will make you think you’re eating ambrosia. I’ll be chef and Jack and Paul can clean the fish.”

“Such a chance!” exclaimed Paul. “You’ll do your share of the cleaning, and don’t you forget it!”

“You’d better catch the fish before you fall to scrapping over them,” remarked Cora.

“You boys go ahead and get your bait,” commanded Belle, “while we get on our boating suits.”

“We fellows seem to be unanimously elected to do all the work,” remarked Jack. “I suppose you girls will want us to put the worms on the hooks for you, too.”

“Likely enough,” admitted Bess.

“Worms, little boys?” sniffed Belle.

“Bent pins, too, for hooks,” suggested Cora.

“Worms make a perfectly satisfactory bait, and don’t you forget it!” declared Walter.

“Bet the fish swallow those worms so greedily our arms will ache pulling them in so fast,” added Jack.

While the boys prepared the fishing tackle and dug the bait, Aunt Betty saw to it that an ample lunch was prepared, and by the time the girls came down, dressed for the trip, everything was in readiness.

They made their way down to the shore of the lake, and a cry of surprise and delight broke from the lips of the girls when they caught sight of the motor boat.

For it was a new, a rejuvenated, Water Sprite that met their eyes. She had been dowdy and disreputable when she had taken them out on the first trip. But the boys had made several surreptitious trips to the nearest town, and had come back laden with sundry cans of paint and varnish.

They had worked like troopers, painting the boat from stem to stern, varnishing the deck and the interior of the cabin, and cleaning every bit of the brass work until it shone like gold.

The Water Sprite was a perfect picture now, as she floated gracefully at the end of the little pier, her ivory white coat of paint contrasting beautifully with the rich brown of the deck tints and her name showing in gold letters on her stern.

“Isn’t she a darling?” exclaimed Bess ecstatically.

“She’s a dream!” asseverated Belle.

“So that’s what you boys have been up to on these mysterious trips of yours, is it?” asked Cora, shaking her finger at them.

“Caught with the goods,” grinned Jack.

“Guilty, with extenuating circumstances,” admitted Walter.

“We throw ourselves on the mercy of the court,” laughed Paul.

“You see,” explained Jack, “it didn’t seem the right thing to us that such pretty girls should sail in such a shabby boat.”

“Well, all I have to say is that you boys are perfect darlings to go to all this trouble for us,” declared Bess emphatically.

“It looks like quoted Belle.

“‘An ivory shallop, silken-sailed,’”

“Except that there are no sails,” laughed Cora. “But the ivory part is all right. Really, girls, it looks almost too pretty to use. Talk about Cleopatra’s barge!”

“There was only one queen on that, while we have three,” grinned Walter. “But come along, girls. I want you to catch those fish, so I can show you what a peach of a cook I am.”

The girls went on board in high glee, Paul cast off the moorings, Jack started the engine to chugging, and Walter this time took charge of the wheel.

The Water Sprite darted off proudly, as though conscious she was looking her best. The boys had not been content with mere decoration, but had made a thorough job of fixing the hull as well, and this time there was no danger of wet feet.

They went down the lake some distance, and then Jack stopped the engine, and the Water Sprite floated about lazily, while they baited the hooks and threw out the lines.

“I’ve got a bite,” said Jack suddenly.

“Does it hurt?” asked Walter solicitously.

Bess giggled, and the others joined in when Jack hauled up a lot of dripping weeds.

“Old Izaak Walton had nothing on you as a fisherman,” chaffed Paul.

But the laugh was on him a moment later, when a voracious pickerel made off with his hook and sinker, and he ruefully pulled up his broken line.

Cora was the first to score, landing a big flopping perch to an accompaniment of little squeals from Bess and Belle.

From that time on the luck was good, and before long they had a number of perch and pickerel, together with enough bass to supply all they needed for an abundant dinner.

“I guess we’re pretty well fixed now,” said Jack, as he eyed the pile of fish. “What do you say now to hustling along and giving Walter a chance to make good on that frying proposition? I think he’s bragging, if you ask me.”

“You do, eh?” retorted Walter. “If you clean the fish as well as I cook them there’ll be nothing left to ask for.”

They started up the boat again, and before long were near the end of the lake. They went along slowly, trying to find the special place that Cora had referred to.

“There it is!” she exclaimed at length. “See! Right in that little cove.”

She pointed to a little indentation in the shore where the trees had thinned out so as to leave an open space carpeted with velvety, springing turf. Near by, a tiny promontory extended into the water, and here it was deep enough for the Water Sprite to float without touching bottom.

“What a lovely spot!” exclaimed Belle.

“A little bit of Eden,” seconded her sister.

“And a dandy place to land,” commented Jack. “We can fasten a rope to that tree and step ashore without having to wade.”

The boys helped the girls ashore, and followed them, bringing along their catch.

While the girls emptied the contents of the lunch basket and spread the good things about in a shady spot, Walter gathered some wood, dug a hole in the ground and lighted a roaring fire. As the flames died down he carefully raked the embers into the hole, until he had a small furnace that gave forth an intense heat.

Then he prepared a skillet of oak twigs dexterously twisted together, and was ready. Jack and Paul in the meantime had been cleaning the fish.

“Hurry up, you common laborers,” ordered Walter in a lordly tone. “Don’t keep an artist waiting.”

A fish-head whizzed past his ear and he hastily sought refuge behind a tree.

“Bad shooting,” he taunted.

“Good enough to make you duck,” retorted Jack.

“While these rough-necks are disturbing the peace,” drawled Walter, “it might be a good idea to get some of those blackberries up there. They’ll come in handy for dessert.”

He pointed to a group of bushes about a hundred feet distant.

“I’ll go,” volunteered Belle, rising to her feet. “You girls go on getting things ready. This lunch basket is empty now and I’ll take it along for the berries.”

She started to pick busily, while Walter, taking the fish that had been cleaned, began to broil them over the fire.

A delicious, tantalizing savor rose from the oak skillets, and promised to justify all that Walter had claimed for his cooking.

“Hurry up, Belle!” called Cora. “Walter’s nearly finished now, and we’re all ravenous.”

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” sang out Belle, “but there’s one big bush here that’s just dying to be picked.”

She moved toward it, but stopped in fright as she heard a grunt and snort on the other side of the bush.

The next instant she found herself looking into the eyes of a big black bear!

CHAPTER XX

THE GREEDY MARAUDER

For a moment Belle stood paralyzed with fright.

The bear gazed at her unwinkingly, and his hair began to rise slowly on his head as he gave vent to a savage growl.

Then Belle screamed wildly, dropped her basket, which was half full of berries, and ran towards the other members of the party, who had risen and rushed to meet her.

“What is it?” they cried in chorus.

“A bear!” shrieked Belle, pointing to the thicket. “Oh, run, run!”

And at this moment the bear emphasized the wisdom of this advice by shambling into full sight.

The boys each possessed themselves of the arm of one of the girls and hurried them to the boat. They put them aboard, rapidly untied the rope that held the Water Sprite, and themselves jumped in.

Then with a united push they sent the Water Sprite away from the bank, Jack started the engine going faster than he ever had before, and in a moment more they were fifty feet out on the lake.

Then only did they dare to draw breath.

It was perhaps lucky for them that Belle had dropped her basket right in the path of the bear. The piles of luscious fruit that had rolled out proved a temptation too strong to resist. He nuzzled into them luxuriously, and when he raised his head his nose looked as though it were dripping with paint.

They had a good view of him now, and they shuddered as they saw what a large and shaggy specimen he was. The bear looked at them too and snarled as if with disappointment at their escape.

“Beauty, isn’t he?” demanded Paul.

“Looks like a nightmare to me,” observed Walter.

“How lucky that Belle saw him first and gave warning,” said Cora. “It would have been nice, wouldn’t it, to have been sitting at lunch and have looked up to see him standing beside us?”

“I know what it means now to have your tongue cleave to the roof of your mouth,” said Belle, who was pale and shaken. “I thought I never would be able to scream.”

The bear resumed his shambling gait and meandered leisurely down to the pile of fish.

“The robber!” groaned Walter. “He’ll clean up the pile. To think I’ve been cooking for that old reprobate!”

“You ought to take it as a compliment,” said Jack. “Just see how the old thief is wading into them.”

The fish were indeed disappearing with magical rapidity.

“He’s a magician,” said Jack. “He’s making mutton of fish.”

“It’s well enough to joke,” murmured Bess. “But what will we do if he eats all the rest of our lunch?”

“We’ll have to grin and bear it,” said Paul, whose disposition to pun could not be overcome.

“Perhaps he’ll be satisfied with the fish and leave the rest of the food alone,” remarked Cora hopefully.

“You’re a cheerful optimist,” replied her brother. “You don’t know much about a bear’s appetite. Besides, he must be awfully hungry, otherwise he would run away – bears usually do.”

“Oh, if I only had a rifle here!” said Paul.

“A dynamite bomb would be good enough for me,” growled Walter.

“Haven’t we anything on board we can soak him with?” groaned Jack.

“Nothing much, except some loose bolts and nuts in the locker,” answered Cora, “and they wouldn’t do any good, except perhaps to aggravate him.”

“It might get his mind off the rest of the lunch, anyway,” replied her brother. “Let’s get a handful, fellows, and bombard the old brigand.”

They were all smarting for revenge, and they equipped themselves with the missiles and began to throw. Several of them hit the bear, but he paid no attention.

“We’re too far off,” said Walter. “The force of the bolts is spent before they get to him. Back up a little closer to the shore, Jack, and we’ll have a better chance.”

“Do you think we’d better?” asked Belle. “He might get stirred up and come after us. Bears are good swimmers, you know.”

“He couldn’t catch a motor boat in a thousand years,” replied Jack. “If it were a rowboat now, it might be different.”

He backed up until the boat was within ten feet of the shore. Walter threw a bolt with such accurate aim that it caught the bear right on the end of his nose.

He reared up with an ugly roar, and his little eyes shot flames of fire at his adversaries.

He offered a fair mark as he stood erect, and Jack had an inspiration. Hanging over the side of the Water Sprite was one of the life-preservers, the round type, a circle with a very large opening in the center, so that it could be easily slipped over the head.

Jack snatched it up and threw it with the motion of a quoit-thrower. It covered the short intervening distance and went over the bear’s head, settling on his neck and looking for all the world like a gigantic ruff. It gave the animal a most grotesque appearance, and the spectators roared with laughter.

It was easier for it to go on than it was for the bear to get it off, and his antics were comical as he rubbed his head against the trees and, failing in that, took his paws to it. He succeeded at last, but his naturally surly nature had not been improved by the operation, and the instant the life-preserver was dislodged, he rushed to the edge of the shore and plunged into the water.

The action was so sudden that the party was taken by surprise. The girls screamed, and the boys had to do some quick work to get the Water Sprite under way. They succeeded, however, and once the engine was going, it was an easy matter to keep out of the bear’s reach, although for so clumsy a creature he swam with amazing swiftness.

They could have distanced him without trouble, but with deliberate purpose Jack kept just far enough ahead of him to encourage him in thinking that he might overtake his quarry. In this way, he drew him down along the shore of the lake for more than half a mile. By that time, Bruin’s ardor had cooled and his strength began to fail. He gave a wrathful snort and made for the shore.

The instant he did so, Jack turned the boat about and made all speed back to the place where they had been surprised.

“Now’s our chance, fellows,” he said. “We can get there long before the bear does, even if he makes a bee line for it as soon as he gets to shore. I’ll hold her bow against the bank, while you jump out and gather up the provisions and bring them on board. That thief may have got our fish, but he won’t have the laugh on us altogether.”

It was very quick work that Paul and Walter did, for they had no mind to be caught there when the bear should make his way back, as they had no doubt he would. They regained the life preserver, which was so scratched and torn that it was no longer good for its original purpose, but they wanted it as a memento of the adventure.

As the bear had not had time to meddle with the food laid out by the girls, they were not so badly off after all, although it was exasperating to have to go without the fish, whose appetizing aroma was still in the air.