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

“Just when they were done to a turn, too,” said Walter gloomily. “I wish the old rascal had choked on the bones.”

Having recovered everything else, even to Aunt Betty’s lunch basket, the picnic party pushed out some distance, and ate their lunch with an appetite that was the keener for their enforced waiting.

They were sure that Bruin’s instinct would lead him straight back to the succulent repast that had been so rudely interrupted, and they were right, for a few minutes later he came loping along and plunged into the remnants of his fish dinner. He glared out over the water at his enemies, but his one experience had been sufficient, and he made no further attempt to take after them. He sniffed around disappointedly at the place where the other eatables had stood, and then lumbered away into the woods.

CHAPTER XXI

THE DRIFTING BOAT

“There’s gratitude for you,” observed Jack. “We’ve given that bear a perfectly good dinner – even cooked it for him – and the only thanks we get is an attempt to kill us.”

“Oh, well,” said Paul, “we must forgive the old fellow. Bear and forbear, you know.”

“You wouldn’t think it was so funny,” remarked Cora, “if he’d gotten away with the rest of the lunch, as well as the fish.”

“Even then we needn’t have gone hungry,” returned Paul soberly. “The forest preserves are all around us.”

“Even in the cities, one needn’t starve if he has a sweet tooth,” added Walter. “He always has the subway jams.”

“I declare,” said Cora, “it’s a pity the bear didn’t get you boys after all.”

“We may get him yet,” said Walter. “I’m not willing to let those fish of mine go unavenged. Perhaps we can get some guns from Joel and round this old fellow up. It certainly would do me a lot of good to have his skin for a rug.”

“He may have his own ideas about that,” replied Bess. “You’d better let well enough alone.”

“I see we’re not the only ones on the lake,” remarked Cora, pointing to a small boat about a mile away.

“Some fellow out fishing in a rowboat,” pronounced Jack, after a moment’s examination. “Let’s go down that way and see what luck he’s having.”

“He doesn’t seem to be fishing,” observed Belle, as the Water Sprite turned in the direction of the rowboat. “In fact, he seems trying to attract our attention. There, he’s waving at us. Let’s hurry. Perhaps he’s in trouble.”

Jack sent the Water Sprite flying at full speed, and the distance between the boats rapidly narrowed.

“Upon my word!” cried Belle, “I believe it’s Mr. Morley.”

“So it is,” acquiesced Cora.

“I don’t see any oars in his boat,” said Paul.

“Looks as though he were adrift,” remarked Walter.

When he was within a few yards, Jack shut off the engine, and the Water Sprite drifted lazily down alongside the rowboat.

It was indeed the botanist, and he smiled cordially, if a little sheepishly, as they shouted greetings to him.

“I’m mighty glad to see you young people,” he returned. “I rather thought it was your boat, but she looks so gay in her new coat that I wasn’t sure of it.”

“Where are your oars?” asked Jack.

“Thereby hangs a tale,” smiled Mr. Morley.

“Come aboard and tell us all about it,” replied Cora. “We’ll fasten your boat to the stern and pull it along.”

Mr. Morley climbed on board, helped by willing hands, and Walter secured the rowboat by a rope round a cleat in the stern.

“It’s a simple story,” laughed Mr. Morley. “Indeed, simple is the only word that properly expresses it. The fact is that I rowed over to the other side of the lake to find some specimens that I had reason to think were growing there. I got them all right and rowed back to the island. I put the oars out of the boat on the dock, and was going to get out myself, when something peculiar about one of the specimens attracted my attention, and I sat down in the boat to examine it more closely. I got so engrossed in it that I forgot everything else. Then suddenly I woke up to the fact that the boat had drifted away from the dock, and I was in the middle of the lake without oars. I was trying to paddle with my hands, but wasn’t accomplishing much, when your boat came in sight. I’m always glad to see you young folks, but I don’t mind admitting that I’m especially glad to see you to-day.”

“And we are to see you,” returned Cora warmly. “How lucky it was that we made up our mind to spend to-day on the lake.”

“We’ll take you right over to your island,” said Jack.

“It’s awfully good of you,” returned Mr. Morley. “I hope it won’t interfere with any other plans you may have made.”

“Not a bit,” answered Cora. “As a matter of fact, I was going to ask Jack to stop at the island before we went home to-night. I wanted to scold you for not having come over to see us at Kill Kare, as you promised.”

“I ought to be scolded,” admitted Mr. Morley. “It hasn’t been, however, because I didn’t want to come. But I’ve had a very painful and difficult problem that I’ve felt I must solve and that has taken up all my time. But I shall certainly give myself the pleasure of calling before long.

“But you have had some very stirring adventures of your own since I saw you last, I understand,” he continued. “What’s this I hear about your being lost in the woods and rescued by an aeroplane, Miss Kimball?”

“It’s true enough,” smiled Cora, and she gave him some of the details. “But how did you come to hear anything about it?” she asked curiously.

“I was talking with Mr. Baxter recently and he told me about it,” replied Mr. Morley.

“Mr. Baxter!” exclaimed Cora in surprise. “We know him very well and he was very kind and helpful while the search was going on. But I didn’t know that you were acquainted with him.”

“He’s doing some special work for me,” Mr. Morley explained, “and we often have occasion to consult together. He’s a very clever man in his particular line.”

Cora would have given the world to ask just then what Mr. Baxter’s line of work was, but she felt that she might be prying. She waited expectantly, hoping that the botanist would mention it of his own accord, but he did not, and they were soon talking of other things.

Of course they told him of their adventure with the bear, and he laughed heartily at the way the brute had made away with their fish dinner.

“If he didn’t leave you enough,” he said heartily, “I’d be very glad to have you come up to the cabin with me and let me knock you up a meal.”

“Oh, we had plenty without the fish,” laughed Cora. “But thank you just the same. And by the way, we’re going to have an outdoor spread on the lawn at Kill Kare before long, in recognition of the kindness of those who tried to bring the prodigal daughter out of the wilderness. I expect that your friend Mr. Baxter will be there, and I’d dearly love to have you come, too.”

“When you’ve fixed on the exact date, let me know, and I certainly will,” replied Mr. Morley. “But here we are now, and there are the oars lying on the dock as a proof of my foolishness,” he added with a laugh.

“You’ve put me under a great obligation,” he said in parting. “I might have drifted along the greater part of the day, and perhaps the night, before I touched shore somewhere.”

“One good turn deserves another,” returned Jack, “and we haven’t forgotten how royally you helped us on the day the Water Sprite got into trouble.”

They waved to him as the boat drew away and shaped its course for Kill Kare.

“It’s mighty lucky we came along, just the same,” observed Belle. “Suppose, by any chance, he had drifted ashore and found our friend the bear waiting for him.”

“And he without any oars in his boat,” added Bess, with a little shudder.

CHAPTER XXII

THE GYPSY CAMP

Cora sat in a brown study as the boat hummed its way to the home landing.

“A penny for your thoughts, fair lady,” said Walter, as he lounged lazily on the cushions.

“Why,” said Cora, “I was wondering what were the special business relations between Mr. Morley and Mr. Baxter.”

“Hard to tell,” replied Walter lightly. “Perhaps Mr. Baxter is an author or an illustrator, and they’re getting up a book together on botany, or something of the kind.”

“I hardly think it’s that,” put in Jack. “I told you before that I thought he was a detective, and something that he said when Cora was lost makes me believe it all the more. He said that he knew the authorities in some of the towns, and they’d be glad to oblige him. That sounds to me more like a detective than an author talking.”

“It does for a fact,” agreed Paul. “But what do you suppose a detective and Mr. Morley have in common?”

“Mr. Morley said that Mr. Baxter was doing some special work for him and that he was very clever,” said Cora.

“Mr. Morley may have been robbed, and he may be trying to trace the robbers,” suggested Belle.

“If it were only that, there wouldn’t be much romance or interest about it,” mused Cora. “But I have an idea it’s something more intimate and personal than that.”

“It seems to me that a robbery is a pretty personal and intimate thing,” laughed Walter.

“Cora means that there’s a heart interest somewhere in Mr. Morley’s life,” put in Bess, “but of course you boys are too sordid to understand anything like that.”

As they passed the barn on their way to the bungalow they met Joel, who had just put up his horse. He seemed a bit out of sorts, and as this was unusual for him, it attracted their attention.

“What’s the matter, Joel?” asked Jack.

“Nuthin’ much,” answered Joel. “But I jest heerd thet them pesky gypsies hez pitched their camp over near Wilton, an’ it’s kinda rubbed my fur the wrong way. I won’t hev an easy minute till I know they’ve packed up their kits an’ hit the trail again.”

“The gypsies!” exclaimed Cora. “I wonder if it is the same camp we saw before.”

“I suppose that’s likely,” returned Jack. “There isn’t usually more than one camp in the same part of the country. They spread out pretty thin and keep apart. Besides, this fits in with the old pirate we saw the other day. He was prospecting, all right, and he picked out the vicinity of Wilton because he saw good graft in the town and the big hotel.”

“Are you sure the news is straight?” asked Paul. “How did you hear about it?”

“Thet Baxter feller wuz drivin’ by, an’ he told me,” replied Joel. “Wuss news I’ve heerd in a dog’s age.”

But if the news disgruntled Joel, it gave immense satisfaction to the rest of the party, especially the girls. They restrained their jubilation, however, until they got beyond Joel’s hearing.

“Isn’t it darling!” exclaimed Cora. “Now we’ll have a chance to see that gypsy girl again!”

“All the good it will do you,” jeered Walter. “That old horse thief will be on the job again, and keep her from talking with you. For some reason he seems to have it in for us.”

“Let’s drive over to-morrow,” suggested Bess.

“I’d like nothing better,” agreed her sister.

“Let’s give Joel a pleasure and take him along,” put in Walter with a wicked grin.

“It would make him froth at the mouth just to look at them,” laughed Jack. “I guess in the interest of the public peace we’d better keep Joel as far away from them as possible.”

“I’m just going to make that girl talk!” declared Cora emphatically.

“Not a very hard thing as a rule,” chaffed Walter. “The difficulty is usually to keep the girls from talking. But these gypsies are a canny lot. For some reason or other they’re suspicious of us, and they’ll keep their eyes on us as long as we’re in camp.”

“Let’s go in disguise,” laughed Paul. “I’ll make up as a clown.”

“That wouldn’t be any disguise,” jabbed Bess.

“That ought to hold you for a while, old man,” laughed Jack. “But let’s go in to supper. I’m ravenous. We’ll have plenty of time to think of the gypsies later on.”

The next day was bright and clear, and shortly after lunch the cars were brought out and the party of young people started for Wilton.

There was a fairly good road most of the way, but there were patches that led through the woods that were rather rough, and over these the cars had to move more slowly.

“Suppose that bear of ours should turn up now,” suggested Walter, as they passed through an especially dense portion of the forest.

“Don’t speak of it,” shivered Bess, looking fearfully on either side. “What on earth would we do?”

“Run for it, I guess,” replied Paul laconically. “He’d have to be pretty fast to overtake us.”

“But suppose he jumped out in front of us,” said Belle.

“Then we’d have to put on full speed ahead and bump him,” laughed Jack. “He’d be as surprised as the bull that tried to throw the locomotive off the track.”

“And about as badly mussed up, I imagine,” added Walter.

But at the same time he reflected that it might have been just as well to have brought Joel’s rifle along, and in his secret heart he was relieved when the cars got out again on the open road.

They slowed up a little as they drew near Wilton, and scanned narrowly both sides of the road.

“There it is!” exclaimed Bess eagerly, pointing to a large opening in the woods a little to the right.

“So it is,” acquiesced Belle. “I can see the vans through the trees.”

“And we’re not the only visitors, either,” remarked Jack, as they caught sight of a number of well dressed people walking about the camp.

“So much the better,” replied Cora. “We won’t be so conspicuous, and the gypsies will be so busy with the crowd that they’ll take no special notice of us.”

They left their cars under the shade of some trees and mingled with the throng.

“I give them credit for having picked out a good place,” remarked Jack.

“They seem to be doing a land-office business,” observed Walter.

“I don’t see that old fellow around that has such a grudge against us,” said Paul.

“Probably off somewhere cheating some farmer in a horse trade,” grinned Jack.

They passed a group of rather fast-looking young men, who were talking and laughing loudly, and Bess suddenly plucked Cora by the sleeve.

“Don’t look now,” she murmured, “but after we get behind that clump of trees, take a look at that crowd we’ve just passed. There’s an old acquaintance of yours there.”

Cora did as directed and gave a start of surprise.

“Why,” she exclaimed, “it’s the man who tried to steal my purse!”

CHAPTER XXIII

A TANGLED SKEIN

Belle followed Cora’s gaze.

“Sure enough,” she ejaculated, “it’s that man Higby!”

“What do you suppose he’s doing here?” wondered Cora.

“I suppose he’s off on his vacation,” hazarded Bess. “Likely enough he’s stopping at one of the boarding houses in Wilton.”

“You girls seem to be hypnotized,” laughed Jack. “We’ll get jealous if you keep looking at those chaps any longer.”

“Do you see that man over there?” asked Cora, indicating Higby.

“The fellow with the rainbow tie?” asked Jack. “Yes, I see him. What of him?”

“That’s the man who tried to scrape acquaintance with us, and nearly got my purse later on.”

“I’d like to pick a quarrel with him and punch his head,” said Jack savagely.

“You won’t do anything of the kind, Jack Kimball,” warned Cora.

“So that’s our hated rival, is it?” asked Paul, looking at the young man with some amusement.

“I’ll have his heart’s blood,” hissed Walter tragically.

“It’s very queer,” mused Cora. “Don’t you remember, girls, how the gypsy girl nearly fainted when Bess happened to mention Higby’s name? And here he is now in the same camp with her.”

“I’d like to be near by when they meet,” remarked Belle.

“Still looking for a mystery,” chaffed Walter. “It beats all how you girls can pounce on trifles and make a mountain out of them.”

“Give them an ounce of fact and they’ll get a ton of romance,” agreed Paul.

“We’re not asking for your approval,” retorted Cora. “This is a case that requires brains and naturally you boys are all at sea.”

“I don’t see that you’ve reached harbor anywhere,” drawled Jack.

“Not yet,” admitted Cora, “but that doesn’t say we won’t. I wonder where that girl can be,” she continued, as she looked searchingly around.

“Perhaps they’ve sent her over to Wilton to tell fortunes there,” suggested Paul. “These gypsies don’t wait for business to come to them. They hunt it up.”

“Oh, I hope not!” exclaimed Cora. “The only reason I cared to come over here was to see her.”

But although they loitered about the place for another hour or two, they saw no trace of the gypsy girl.

They were agreeably surprised, however, to run across Mr. Baxter, with whom their relations had grown cordial since he had exerted himself so strenuously in the search for Cora. But despite the pleasant footing on which they stood, there was still that baffling sense of reticence that enveloped him in everything concerning himself.

“Come over to get your fortune told?” asked Jack with a grin.

“Not exactly,” smiled Mr. Baxter, “though I’m always in the market for exact information.”

“I hope you don’t mean to imply that there’s anything phony about the dope they hand out here,” laughed Walter.

“We saw your friend, Mr. Morley, yesterday,” remarked Cora.

Mr. Baxter shot a sharp look at her.

“Is that so?” he inquired. “How did you happen to know we were acquainted?”

“He told me so himself,” returned Cora promptly.

“Well, that ought to be pretty good authority,” replied Mr. Baxter.

But he showed no disposition to pursue the subject, as Cora had wished he would, and the conversation turned into other channels.

Mr. Baxter excused himself shortly, and the party strolled on. The girls bought bits of bead and embroidered work from the women, and had their fortunes told twice, spinning out the time in the hope that they would meet the girl they sought. But she did not appear, and at last they made their way to the cars, sorely disappointed.

They had gone only a little way when Bess exclaimed:

“Look! There’s some one behind those bushes.”

The others looked, but could see nothing.

“You’re dreaming, I guess,” remarked her sister.

“Nothing of the kind!” replied Bess indignantly. “I have eyes. And it was a woman, too. I caught a glimpse of her skirts.”

“Well, suppose it is,” observed Jack nonchalantly. “She has a right to be there if she wants to. The woods are free.”

“I wish you’d get down and see,” pleaded Cora.

“Oh, very well,” replied Jack resignedly. “Since you girls are determined to butt in, I suppose I’ll have to be the goat.”

He got down from the car, but at that moment the bushes parted, and a girl stepped out into the road. She was gaily dressed and had a tambourine in her hand.

But there was no suggestion of gaiety in her face, which was distressed and bore traces of recent tears.

Cora uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure.

“Why,” she cried, “it’s the gypsy girl!”

The girl looked up and tried to smile, but it was a forlorn attempt.

The girls stepped down from the car and gathered about her. The boys would have followed, but Cora interposed.

“You boys drive on a little way and wait for us,” she directed. “We’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

The boys looked at each other and laughed, but they obeyed. Then Cora turned to the girl.

“You seem to be in trouble of some kind,” she said gently. “I wonder if we couldn’t help you?”

The gypsy hesitated.

“Don’t be afraid,” urged Cora. “We’re all girls together here, and we’ll do anything we can to help you if you’ll only let us.”

The girl started to speak in her gypsy patter, and here Cora hazarded a bold stroke.

“Don’t talk that way,” she said with a winning smile. “I’m sure you can use as good English as we can if you want to.”

The shot went home, and the girl flushed under the tan that bronzed her cheeks.

“I don’t know why you think that,” she said in a low voice.

“It was from something you said the other day when you were off your guard,” replied Cora. “Of course I don’t want to meddle with your affairs, but I do want that we should be friends. My name is Cora and this is Bess and this Belle. What is your name?”

“They call me Nina,” replied the girl, who was visibly melting under the charm of Cora’s personality.

“Now won’t you tell us just what the matter is?” continued Cora. “I can see that you have been crying.”

“I was frightened,” answered the girl.

“Do the gypsies treat you badly?” asked Cora.

“No,” replied Nina. “They’re rough sometimes, but they’re kindly at heart. But there was some one over at the camp to-day that I haven’t seen for a long time, and that I hoped I never would see. I’m afraid of him. He didn’t see me, but I saw him, and I ran away to hide in the woods till he should be gone.”

The girls looked at each other, and the same name came to the minds of all three.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE KNOCKING AT MIDNIGHT

“I think I know his name,” said Cora quietly.

The girl looked at her in surprise.

“How can you know?” she asked.

“Because you nearly fainted the other day when you heard it mentioned,” returned Cora, “and we saw that same man over at the camp to-day. His name is Higby.”

The girl started violently, but whether she would have admitted it they did not know, for just at that moment a call came from the depths of the woods:

“Nina, Nina!”

“My people are looking for me!” exclaimed Nina. “It wouldn’t do for them to find me here talking with you. They’re suspicious of everybody. I’ll have to go.”

“But we must see you again,” said Cora. “We simply must. Can’t you come over to our place and have a long talk with us? We live at Camp Kill Kare, only about four miles from here.” And she hastily gave the needed directions for finding the way.

Again the cry arose from the woods, but nearer this time.

“Nina, Nina!”

“Perhaps I will come,” said Nina hurriedly. “But you had better not come over to the camp again. If they suspect anything they will shut me up in one of the vans until they go away. Good-bye,” and she scurried away into the woods.

The girls looked after her regretfully and then climbed into their car and drove ahead to where the boys were waiting for them with more or less patience.

“Well, how did you amateur sleuths make out?” asked Jack, as they drew alongside.

“Foiled again, judging from their faces,” observed Paul.

“The committee reports progress and asks to be continued,” chimed in Walter in his best parliamentary manner.

“I thought only women were curious,” said Belle scathingly.

“You boys drive on,” directed Bess. “This is a matter for us girls to settle.”

“We’re clearly in the second-fiddle class,” grumbled Jack, as he threw in the clutch and took the lead.

“Wasn’t it the most exasperating thing?” observed Bess, as the girls settled down for a “comfy” talk. “Just as we were on the very point of finding out perhaps about that Higby, she had to go.”

“Goodness knows when we’ll see her again, if ever,” sighed Belle pessimistically.

“I’m glad she has the Kill Kare address anyway,” replied Cora. “She may come over to see us. But if she doesn’t, I’ll find out some way of getting in touch with her again.”

“Well, as Walter said, the committee has made some progress anyway,” said Bess.

“I don’t see where,” put in her sister. “We don’t really know any more of her story than we did before.”

“Not of the real story, perhaps,” admitted Cora, “but we know some things now, where formerly we only suspected them. We know, for instance, that Higby is the man she’s afraid of. She didn’t actually admit it, though I think she was about to, but his being there to-day and her hiding make it practically certain. It just couldn’t be a mere coincidence.

“Then too,” Cora continued, “we know that she can speak perfect English when she wants to. And she has the accent of an educated girl.”

“But that doesn’t prove she isn’t a gypsy,” said Belle. “I’ve heard sometimes of gypsy fathers, especially the chiefs of tribes, sending their daughters to good schools. I suppose at the time they intend to keep them away from gypsy surroundings altogether. But then the wild feeling in their blood comes out and they drift back to the camp life again.”