The Automobile Girls at Chicago: or, Winning Out Against Heavy Odds

"When you reach the top tell them to lower the rope again, so I can get out."

Barbara suddenly collected herself.

"Oh, forgive me for my thoughtlessness. You go on up. I can come later."

Bob Stevens merely smiled, then raised his voice in a shout to the men to pull up. He lifted Bab up with apparent ease, for he was a muscular young man. The rope began to move up slowly. He helped Barbara until she had reached the ladder, then after seeing her safely on her way, and when she was no longer visible, the young man picked up his lantern and began to look about him.

The chimney reached clear to the bottom of the pit in which he was standing. A short passage underground led off from the pit. He followed it for about thirty yards, when it ended abruptly against a solid mound of earth. Investigation showed that this earth had caved in, thus blocking what had once been a long passage. Little particles of dirt showered down on his head as he stepped carefully about, indicating that the rest of the roof might cave in at any moment.

"The silence of the tomb," muttered Bob. "What a place in which to be buried alive! I can imagine what that poor little girl must have suffered in here without a light, not knowing whether she ever would be found again. There's pluck for you. I know I should have been scared stiff. What a house of mystery this is! If it were mine I would pull it to pieces to satisfy my curiosity if for no other reason. But the treasure? Can it be possible that we have stumbled upon the hiding place of the real treasure? I'm going to investigate this place later on. Mr. Presby's ancestors must have been regular woodchucks. At least they were great burrowers. Hold on; there must have been some sort of stream through here by the looks of the ground. The tunnel was already made. All it needed was covering and filling. I begin to see. The families used it for getting away when the Indians got too busy. But I hear the rope. I want to examine that attic."

Bob held up his lantern to look for the rope when a ray from the lantern glinted on something bright in a niche in the chimney near the base, from where a brick had been pried out. He held the lantern closer, his eyes grew large, then the young man gave a whoop that was heard far above him in the attic.

CHAPTER XVI

BOB SOLVES ANOTHER MYSTERY

"I'VE got it!" he cried. "I've found the – but it can't be a very big treasure done up in so small a package," he added in a disappointed tone.

That which had attracted his attention was a metal box about six inches in length which had been set into the chimney so skilfully that a person passing would be unlikely to observe it. The box fitted the niche so nicely that Stevens was obliged to use his knife to pry it out. The box was locked. He found no key and was about to attempt to pry open the cover with his knife when he paused.

"No. I won't do it. That wouldn't be fair. Miss Thurston is the real discoverer. She shall open the box, or I will open it in her presence unless Mr. Presby wishes to do so himself." Saying which, Bob Stevens pocketed his curiosity as well as the little metal box. The rope now being at hand, he slipped the loop about his waist, reached up and grasped the lower rung of the ladder, drawing himself up easily until the lower rung was beneath his feet. From that point on he climbed rapidly to the platform. From there he was obliged to use the rope in place of the missing section of the ladder. A few seconds later he was standing in the garret.

"How is Miss Mollie?" were his first words.

"Just coming to," answered one of the hands. "Miss Ruth was just up here to see if you had gotten up yet. She wishes to see you."

"Hold up the lantern. I want to look at this wall a moment." Bob had found the maul lying on the floor in the gable. He returned it to the garret. He now recalled the crash that had followed his final chopping. Since then the young man had reasoned out what he thought was the mechanism that had caused all the trouble.

Stevens pushed gently on the panel against which he had originally struck so hard a blow. To the amazement of the onlookers, the panel fell into the gable with a mighty crash.

"I thought so," he nodded. The others had leaped to the far side of the room. Mr. Presby came hobbling up, fearing that still another disaster had fallen upon the house.

"Please look here, Mr. Presby," called Bob. "Here is the secret. See that narrow panel? It is a little wider than a man's body. It is hinged at the bottom. Attached to it were ropes running over pulleys in wooden tunnels. At the ends of these ropes are heavy weights. So nicely balanced were the weights that the pressure of a few pounds from this side would throw the panel inward. Any person leaning against it on this side would be dumped into the other room so quickly that unless he understood the mechanism, he would not know what had occurred."

"Wonderful," breathed the owner.

"It was evidently intended to afford a quick get-away in case the occupants of the house found it necessary to leave hurriedly. You will find the remnants of an old mattress in the gable there. I presume that was originally so placed that the person going through would slide from the smooth panel to the mattress without the least danger of injury. The instant his body left the panel the weights would pull the panel into place with a great bang. When the weights struck their foundation – the floor – another crash would be heard. Were I an Indian, I think I would run if I heard all that crashing and smashing. However, I have cut the ropes. You will have no recurrence of to-day's accident. The trap was open and both the young women fell into it while groping about in the dark in there. Is Miss Mollie seriously hurt?"

"One wrist is sprained and she is somewhat bruised. I do not believe it will prove to be anything serious," answered Mr. Presby. "Bob, I thank you," he added, giving the young man's hand a hearty grip.

"May I go down there now?" piped Tommy.

"You may not, sir," returned his father sternly. "You will keep away from that place entirely. I shall have the opening nailed up to-morrow. By the way, Robert, what did you find at the bottom?" questioned the master eagerly.

"A caved-in passage. I also found this. I intended to give it to you in the presence of Miss Thurston. However, it belongs to you."

Mr. Presby turned the metal box over in his hand reflectively.

"Open it, Robert. I decline to become excited."

"May I call Miss Barbara?"

"Certainly."

Tommy fairly flew downstairs for Bab, who returned with him on the run. Stevens showed her the box. Her eyes glowed.

"How is Miss Mollie?" asked the young man.

"I don't think there is very much the matter with her except the shock and the fright. She must have been unconscious down there for quite a time. Please open the box. I am dying of curiosity."

He broke open the box with the stove poker with which he had sounded the walls. All necks were craned to see what was in the box. To their wonderment, not unmixed with disappointment, Bob Stevens drew out a tarnished gold watch, on the back of which had been cut the letters "T. W. P." It was of English make and very old.

Mr. Presby regarded it solemnly.

"That is my ancestor's watch. It can mean but one thing, finding it as we have. He left such of his worldly possessions as he could – this watch. And to think we have dug up half of the estate for a treasure that did not exist! It was his silent message to us that this was all he had to leave in case he did not return." Mr. Presby's voice held a note of keen disappointment. Even up to now he had not fully lost hope that by some fortunate circumstance the treasure might yet be found.

"He may have returned and taken the rest of it," reflected Bob. "But if that were so, why should he have gone to all the pains of leading us to believe there was more?"

"How so?"

"This find means more than appears on the surface, sir."

"May I look at it?" asked Barbara.

Mr. Presby handed the watch to her. She opened the case and gazed long at the face of the timepiece. She closed the case with a snap, then turned to the back, first studying the initials, next trying to open the back case. Bob Stevens assisted her with his pocket knife. The case came open suddenly. A slip of paper fluttered to the floor at Bab's feet.

"Oh!" she cried, snatching it up. She started to unfold the paper, then flushing, handed it to Mr. Presby. He shook his head.

"Look at it, my dear. There need be no secrets here."

Barbara did so, her hands trembling with excitement. A little furrow of perplexity appeared between the eyebrows. What she saw on the paper was a crude drawing of a toadstool with a slight point rising from the centre of the toadstool. In the background was what appeared to be a forest, but so awkwardly drawn that it was not possible to say positively that a forest was what the artist had intended. Below the picture of the toadstool was some writing. Stevens held the lantern closer, at her suggestion. "'The span of a minute is sixty seconds,'" read Barbara Thurston. "Now, what in the world does that mean?"

"I think it was your little golden-haired sister who expressed the opinion that my ancestor was not in his right mind," said Mr. Presby. "I am inclined to that belief myself. I wash my hands of the whole affair! Come, let us go below. This air here suffocates me."

Bob Stevens took the paper and, holding the lantern in the crook of his left arm, studied the bit of paper on his way downstairs, but made nothing out of it.

"I am not certain that it means anything at all, Miss Thurston," he said. "Perhaps the girls may discover some meaning. As for myself, I give it up."

"Thank you," answered Barbara. "I will show it to them. I know it must mean something, unless – unless the original Mr. Presby were crazy in fact."

"I am beginning to think we are all crazy," laughed Stevens.

After having again inquired for Mollie, and shaken hands with Barbara and Ruth, Bob went home. Barbara had stuffed the slip of paper into the pocket of her blouse on her way to Mollie's room. Mollie now lay wide awake. Her face was pale. There was a livid mark on her forehead, where she had come violently in contact with the chimney side on her tumble into the hole in the gable floor.

"Oh, Mollie, dear," soothed Bab, throwing her arms about her sister. "It had to be you who got the worst of the bump. Were you leaning against the wall, too?"

Mollie nodded weakly.

"What happened?" she asked.

Barbara explained as well as she could from the brief description of the panel mechanism that Mr. Stevens had given to her, to which Mollie listened wide-eyed.

"You dear 'Automobile Girls,'" cried Ruth. "Will you never stop picking up horseshoe nails with all four tires?"

"But we manage to wriggle our way through the broken glass, don't we, Molliekins?"

Mollie nodded and smiled. The wind was still howling without. In the pause of conversation the girls listened. Suddenly Ruth sprang up.

"I have forgotten two things," she exclaimed. "I must go out and put the storm curtains on Mr. A. Bubble and telephone father that Bubble must go to the shop."

"You didn't have another accident?" inquired Barbara anxiously.

"No. I blew up the two rear tires and came in on the rims. Oh, girls, I wish you might have been along. No, I don't, either. I'm afraid the car wouldn't have stood up under that additional weight. It was great!"

"Did – did you go some?" questioned Mollie.

"Did we? Ask Tom! I'll wager that young man's head is whirling still. I never thought we should make it, but I was bound not to set back the spark a single notch until I either turned turtle in the ditch or got Mr. Stevens here to help find you, Bab. We made it, didn't we, Tommy boy?" Tom had just entered the room to see what was going on.

"You bet we did," answered Tom.

"Would you like to ride so fast as that another time?" questioned Ruth merrily.

"Well, maybe in a railroad train," answered Tommy.

"I'll take you out again when the car is repaired," said Ruth.

"Not when I'm awake you won't."

"You say you came home on the rims?" wondered Barbara. "I should have thought it would have crushed them. Yours is a heavy car, Ruth."

"It would have crushed them, only the rims didn't touch the ground till we got in the drive here," observed Thomas wisely, whereat the girls laughed merrily.

Ruth started to go down and put on her storm curtains. Bab ran after her to assist.

"Oh!" cried Barbara, as an icy blast smote her in the face the moment she stepped out into the open.

"You had better run back and put something over your head," advised Ruth.

For answer, Barbara pulled out her handkerchief, binding this over her head. The two girls, after no little effort, succeeded in putting the curtains up, though the wind made their task doubly difficult. Finishing, they ran into the house with benumbed fingers and cheeks aflame. They rushed to the nearest fireplace, to which they pressed closely until the odor of scorching cloth warned them to beware. Olive and Grace had come downstairs, for dinner was on the table. A tray had been taken up to Mollie, but she did not care to eat, and had soon after fallen into a restful doze.

"You haven't told us what you found in that great, deep hole," urged Olive, after they had been seated for some little time.

"Oh, I forgot," answered Barbara. "Everything has been moving so rapidly that I haven't had time even to think. I found – I mean Mr. Stevens found something. But I am afraid it doesn't help us much."

"Bob found something?" cried Olive. "Oh, tell us about it."

"Yes, he found a metal box in the chimney. In it there was a watch that belonged to your scalped ancestor – I beg your pardon. I shouldn't have said that. Your father has the watch. Well, inside the back case was a tiny slip of paper with the funniest picture you ever saw. There was some writing beneath the picture. I'll show it to you. I believe it means something, but I can't understand it at all."

"All rubbish," observed Mr. Presby. The master of the house already had shown the watch to Mrs. Presby, and had explained the manner of its finding by young Stevens.

Bab was searching through her pocket for the slip of paper. She had her handkerchief in her hand, together with some other articles that the pocket had held. Going clear to the bottom, she groped with eager fingers. Her face grew a shade paler.

"You haven't lost it?" begged Ruth.

"Oh, I am afraid I have!" gasped Barbara, turning her pocket wrong side out. "I – I must have dropped it in the garret. May I be excused while I go up to look for it?"

Receiving permission, the girl ran hurriedly up the garret stairs, first having snatched up one of the lanterns. She searched the garret floor, paying especial attention to the spot where they had been standing when discussing the find. She found no trace of the missing slip. Next Barbara examined every inch of the stairs, then entered Mollie's room on tip-toe, but with no better success. Every nook and corner where she could remember to have been on both floors was searched in vain.

"I think I can tell you where you lost it," volunteered Ruth Stuart "You took out your handkerchief to put over your head when we were outside covering the car. You must have pulled the paper out with the handkerchief."

"Then I must go outside and look for it," wailed Bab. "I simply mustn't lose that paper. It may mean everything to you all. Oh, I must find it."

"Silly! You won't find the paper if it has been dropped out of doors. On a night like this it has probably blown far away," interposed Olive. "Don't worry. It isn't worth it. Hunting for the Treasureholme treasure brings nothing but tears. Forget it all and be your own bright little self."

Barbara Thurston struggled with her emotions for a few heart-breaking seconds, then burst into tears.

CHAPTER XVII

A LONG-REMEMBERED CHRISTMAS

THERE had been an air of new mystery about Treasureholme for the last three or four days. Packages large and small, all addressed to Mrs. Presby had been delivered from the city. Mysterious conferences were being held between Mrs. Presby and this and that girl. Each of the "Automobile Girls" appeared to be bursting with the burden of the secret she was carrying about with her.

The explanation of all this mystery was that it then lacked but two days to Christmas. Bab had in a measure recovered from her disappointment and chagrin at losing the slip of paper found in the chimney, and strange to say she had wholly forgotten the words that were written on the little slip. All the information that Robert Stevens could give her was that it was something about a "minute." The excitement under which all hands were laboring at the time of the find, perhaps might be blamed for their short memories. However, there was no help for the disaster now. The coming holiday served to take their minds from the subject of the buried treasure, though now and again Tom brought in reports of having seen strange men in the grounds out near the woods. One evening the girls had been frightened almost to the verge of hysterics by discovering a man peering through the window of Olive's sitting room upstairs, while the girls were chatting after the others below stairs had gone to bed. A ladder found on the outside explained how the man had gotten to the window. That his spying had something to do with the mad hunt for the treasure, they had no doubt. In this instance their screams, aided perhaps by the bottle of smelling salts that Olive had instantly hurled through the window upon catching sight of him, had driven him away.

Christmas eve at last was at hand. The air without was crisp and clear, within all was cheer from the blazing fireplaces, with decorations of holly festooned with ribbons in all the downstairs rooms. The dining room had been cleared as soon as possible after dinner, for it was there that a Christmas tree was to be set up, there that the presents were to be distributed to the "Automobile Girls" and various members of the family. Excitement ran high. Bob Stevens had been invited to join in the festivities, which included a molasses candy pull and games appropriate to the occasion.

Seven o'clock had just boomed out on the grandfather's clock in the hall when there came a ring at the door. The girls, with ears alert, heard a familiar voice greeting Mr. and Mrs. Presby. Down the stairs rushed the girls, with Ruth in the lead, crying at the top of her voice:

"It's my daddy! Oh, it's my dear daddy!" Ruth flung herself into her father's arms. She had not seem him in more than two weeks. The rest of the girls rushed up to Mr. Stuart, each giving him an affectionate hug, for to them he seemed almost as much a father as he did to Ruth.

Barbara's heart sank as she stepped back to take a good look at Mr. Stuart. His face was positively haggard. Ruth had observed this in the first glance and two great tears dropped from her eyes to Mr. Stuart's shoulder as she clung there.

"Dear daddy. Don't take it so hard. You have me," whispered Ruth. This brought a momentary relaxation to the tense muscles of the speculator's face.

Barbara was shocked at his appearance. He seemed to have added years to his age since last she saw him. Mr. Stuart observed her inquiring gaze fixed upon his face. He smiled reassuringly, well understanding that she had noted the change in him. Then, to divert Bab's thoughts, he pinched Mollie's dimpled chin.

"How is my little Molliekins since her adventure in the lower regions of Treasureholme?" he questioned.

"My stock went down that day. It hasn't come up yet," answered Mollie brightly.

"I am afraid you are not alone in that experience," laughed Mr. Stuart. "Am I right, Richard?" addressing Mr. Presby. Mr. Presby nodded solemnly. "By the way, Ruth, the chauffeur will drive your car out in the morning. I heard all about that last drive of yours from the people of Brightwaters. I expect my little girl will break her neck and at the same time her dad's heart one of these days."

"I am not afraid for the first, but I shouldn't like to be responsible for the latter," answered Ruth soberly.

"To-night we won't think of serious subjects. We are to make it a real holiday, eh, Richard?"

"That is our plan. We want the 'Automobile Girls' to enjoy themselves. It makes us happy to see them so happy. I've never seen Olive more happy than she is to-night."

Olive was radiant. She, like her girl guests, was dressed in white, with a sprig of holly pinned to her waist. Faces were flushed, eyes sparkling. They were a happy, joyous lot of young women. Olive stole into the drawing room that at her direction the servants already had cleared of rugs, moving the furniture to the sides of the room. The only light there was from the blazing fireplace. Olive sat down at the piano.

"Come on, everybody!" she called, striking up a lively two-step.

The "Automobile Girls" ran for the drawing room. With them went the older members of the party. Ruth grabbed her father and led him a giddy dance. Bob Stevens claimed a dance with Bab. Mr. Presby's gouty foot would not permit his joining in the frolic, so Bob very thoughtfully cut short his dance with Barbara, dancing a few minutes with each of the other girls. Thomas Warrington Presby was turning handsprings in a corner of the room, and, being in the shadow, he was not disturbed in his antics.

Soon after this Mrs. Presby appeared at the door.

"Children," she called. "You are invited to come to the dining room. I do not think a second invitation will be necessary."

It was not. There was a grand rush for the dining room, followed by a chorus of "ahs" and "ohs" as they caught sight of a real, old-fashioned Christmas tree, all alight with candles, glittering with spangles, many-hued balls and yards and yards of sparkling frosted fringe. At its top and hovering over it, floated a cherub, supported by an invisible wire suspended from the ceiling. At the base of the tree were the presents. There seemed to be a whole truck load of them. Some very large packages excited the curiosity of the girls, but what caused the most merriment was a huge red automobile, made of wire and red paper. The automobile was filled with red roses, both being the gift to the "Automobile Girls" from their friend, Mrs. Cartwright.

It fell to the lot of Mr. Stuart to distribute the presents. There was a rifle for Tom, small gifts for all the girls from Mrs. Thurston, Mrs. Presby and Miss Sallie, who had come over earlier in the day, having spent most of her time thus far in getting the gifts ready for the presentation. Bab and Mollie gave each of their friends drawn-work handkerchiefs and some small pieces of embroidery, all their own work, to Miss Sallie and Mrs. Presby. As yet the large packages that held so much of mystery had not been opened.

Ruth finally slipped over and whispered to her father. He nodded. At that she hurried to the tree, dragging the largest of the packages out into the light. Mr. Stuart cut the strings, Ruth being too impatient to untie them. A great heap of tissue paper, that piled high on the floor, gave promise of something good. Ruth drew out a long, black object which she ran over and placed in Barbara's arms.

"There, you dear! That should keep you warm," she said. "This is from father and myself."

Barbara stared at the object that lay across her arms. It was a three-quarter length Persian lamb coat. Barbara was too astonished to catch the meaning of it all.

Aunt Sallie took the coat from Barbara's arms, turned the girl about and slipped the coat on.

"Oh-h-h!" gasped Bab, catching sight of herself in a mirror. "No, no, I can't accept it. It is – isn't right, Ruth – Mr. Stuart. Oh, you shouldn't have done this! I didn't look for anything but some simple little gift. But this lovely coat. Oh, Mollie, Mollie." Bab's eyes were swimming.

"Never mind, Molliekins," twinkled Mr. Stuart. "There is something in the other package that I think will please you equally well. Ruth, aren't you going to give my little golden-haired girl her present?"

Ruth flew to the second large package, the strings of which had been cut by Mr. Stuart. From this package Ruth drew forth a coat exactly like Barbara's, for Mollie. Two caps of the same material were placed on the heads of the Thurston girls. Mollie needed no urging to put her coat on. She slipped into it, then began dancing about the floor, regardless of whose toes she stepped on. Fortunately for her, she missed Mr. Presby's gouty foot.