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

CHAPTER XII
AN UGLY CUSTOMER

“Mr. Morley!” exclaimed Bess and Belle in a breath.

“Isn’t it so?” demanded Cora. “I was struck by it when we first saw him just after we got off the boat.”

“When I come to think of it, I believe you’re right,” replied Belle slowly.

“He has a way of holding his head like hers,” agreed Bess.

“But it’s the eyes,” went on Cora. “They’re blue like hers, and there are times when they have exactly the same expression. Girls, I believe we’re on the edge of a mystery!”

“Don’t talk so loud,” cautioned Belle, “or the boys may catch something of what you’re saying and they’ll tease us to death about it.”

“But, after all, what does it all amount to?” asked Bess. “It doesn’t prove that they have the slightest connection with each other.”

“And even if they have, what could we do about it?” asked Belle. “It’s like the dog running after the train. What would he do with it if he caught it?”

The girls laughed.

“It is a tangle,” admitted Cora. “We couldn’t go to Mr. Morley and tell him that we’d seen a gypsy girl who reminded us of him.”

“He mightn’t take it as a compliment,” suggested Bess.

“Or he might think we’d gone crazy,” said Belle.

“There are probably ten million people in the world that the gypsy girl looks like in one way or another,” said Bess, with difficulty suppressing a yawn. “Let’s go to bed and forget all about it.”

But Cora, as she slipped between the sheets, was far from intending to dismiss the subject in such cavalier fashion.

At breakfast the next morning, Paul proposed that they should visit an old logging camp that Joel had told him was located a few miles away.

“Of course it isn’t in operation now,” he said. “You’d have to visit it in winter to see it running full blast. But it will be interesting to see the bunk-houses and the flumes, and get an idea of the way the work is carried on.”

“We won’t have to do much walking,” said Jack. “Joel says that the road between here and there is a pretty good one for the cars. We can take our lunch along and make an all-day picnic of it.”

The girls fell into the plan with enthusiasm, and in a short time the cars were brought to the front of the house, and they were ready to start.

Joel stood by, looking on with lively curiosity, as Cora took the wheel.

“How about a little spin for a mile or two?” laughed Cora.

Joel grinned a little sheepishly.

“Come along,” urged Cora, “and I’ll show you what fast going is really like.”

“Better make your will, Joel,” laughed Jack. “That sister of mine is some speed demon.”

“I’m afraid it will put ye out in yer plans,” objected Joel, though it was plain he was tempted.

“Not a bit of it,” returned Cora cheerily. “We have all day before us. The rest will stay here, while you and I go down the road for a mile or two and back.”

Joel looked at Mrs. King, and as she smiled her approval, he climbed clumsily into the car and sat in the back seat. Cora threw in the clutch, and the car started off.

“Hold on to your hair, Joel,” Jack shouted after him.

The road was fairly good right there, and Cora increased the speed until the car was going well.

Joel gasped and held on tight to the sides of the car. He had never traveled on anything faster than the little narrow-gauge railroad train that wheezed along at about ten or fifteen miles an hour. Now he was moving at the rate of forty or more.

After about two miles had been covered, Cora eased up and prepared to turn the car.

“How about it, Joel?” she asked mischievously, as she straightened out for home.

“It’s – it’s scrumptious, miss!” gasped Joel, “but ain’t ye feared ye’ll wreck yer car? Doesn’t seem’s if anything on four wheels c’u’d stand it.”

“Don’t worry about that,” replied Cora, and again Joel was treated to a burst of speed that set his heart thumping violently against his ribs.

It was with a sigh of relief that he climbed down from the car when it had come to a full stop.

“Sufferin’ cats!” exclaimed the old backwoodsman, as he faced his grinning audience, “I’ve faced b’ars an’ painters an’ catamounts, but I wuz never so plumb skeered in all my life!

“An’ to think uv a gal havin’ the spunk to drive like that!” he muttered to himself, as he made his way back to the barn. “She suttinly is some gal!”

“A little rich for Joel’s blood, I guess,” laughed Jack, as the gay party started off.

“He’ll grow to like it, though,” prophesied Cora. “He’ll be ready for another one by the time we get back.”

The cars moved along now at a moderate pace, for they had ample time before them and were not at all anxious to reach their destination.

Suddenly Jack’s car, which was in advance, came to a full stop. He turned about and motioned for Cora to drive up as softly as possible.

“What is it?” she asked as she drew up alongside.

For answer, Jack pointed ahead, and the girls saw a big rattlesnake sunning himself in the road.

The girls gave a shriek that roused the snake. He reared his ugly triangular head, saw the cars, and with an angry rattle threw himself into position for attack or defense as the case might call for. His forked tongue played back and forth like lightning and his wicked eyes sparkled with rage.

“Beauty, isn’t he?” asked Jack.

“Oh, let’s get back!” cried Belle. “He may try to climb into the car!”

“A black snake does that sometimes, but a rattler never does,” declared Walter. “He’ll leave us alone if we leave him alone.”

“For goodness’ sake, leave him alone, then!” pleaded Bess.

“I’m going to get a closer look at him,” said Jack, preparing to jump from the car.

“Don’t, Jack, don’t!” cried Cora, and there was such fear in his sister’s voice that Jack yielded, though reluctantly.

“We’re not going to let him get away, are we?” he grumbled.

“Why not?” replied Cora. “He wasn’t doing anything to us.”

“He ought to be killed on general principles,” said Paul.

“He’s an enemy of the human race,” added Walter.

But this viewpoint did not appeal to the girls.

“He has a right to his life,” said tender-hearted Bess.

“To be sure he has,” acquiesced Belle. “Besides, you boys haven’t any weapons, and you might get bitten.”

“There are plenty of rocks and sticks around here to kill him with,” said Walter.

But the girls insisted, and while they were excitedly talking, the snake himself, seeing that he was not attacked, solved the matter by uncoiling and gliding away into the bushes at the side of the road.

“A perfectly good bunch of rattles gone to waste,” said Jack disgustedly, as they prepared to start on again.

“He’s given us a tip anyway to be on the lookout,” warned Walter. “Where there’s one there may be others. Joel says they’re not very plentiful about here, but he does run across them sometimes. I wonder what Joel would say if he knew we had a chance to kill one and didn’t do it.”

“It doesn’t matter what Joel thinks,” said Bess. “I’m glad we let him go.”

“You can’t help handing it to the old boy for pluck,” said Jack, with grudging admiration. “He was ready to fight the whole six of us.”

“If it had been a regiment, it would have been just the same,” remarked Paul.

“He kept that old buzzer of his working overtime,” laughed Walter. “No striking on the sly for him. He keeps telling you just what he hopes to do to you.”

“It’s the first time I’ve met a rattler under such circumstances, and I hope it will be the last,” said Bess.

“I guess his snakeship feels the same way about us, so honors are even,” laughed Paul.

The party kept a sharp lookout from that time on, but no other snakes were encountered, and a few minutes later the logging camp came into view.

CHAPTER XIII
A MOMENTOUS STEP

The camp, which consisted of a sawmill, an immense bunk-house capable of accommodating more than a hundred men, and a number of scattered outbuildings, was picturesquely located in a depression between two great hills. A mountain stream that came tearing down the side of one of the hills furnished power for the mill. Later on, some of its waters would be diverted to the giant flumes, down which the logs would come hurtling to the valley below.

Just now it was by no means the scene of busy life that it would become in the late fall and throughout the winter. Then would come the bearded lumberjacks, hardy, red-faced giants of the woods, Swedes, Norwegians, Irishmen, Frenchmen, hard workers, hard fighters, hard drinkers, and the wood would ring with the clang of axes and the crash of falling trees.

At present there was little work going on. The sawmill, with a small force of men, was running in a languid sort of way, clearing up some of the by-products of the season before. The camp might be said to be in a state of suspended animation.

A sort of deputy foreman who was in charge gave the party a cordial greeting and showed them about the various points of interest, explaining volubly the processes through which the lumber passed from the standing tree to the shaped and finished product of the mills.

“We’ve got only a small force working in the woods just now,” he explained. “They’re nicking the trees, so that the men will know which ones are to be cut down this coming fall and winter.”

“Sort of passing sentence of death, as it were,” said Jack.

“I suppose you might call it that,” smiled the foreman.

“It seems a pity that they should have to die,” said Cora, as her eyes took in the stately trees that decked the mountain side.

“Especially after what Mr. Morley was saying yesterday about the trees being alive,” remarked Bess.

“You girls are the limit,” laughed Paul. “First you let the snake go, and now you want to save the trees.”

“They’ll be afraid to pick a nosegay after a while for fear that the flowers will bleed,” mocked Jack.

“I wish my folks had believed in that plant theory when I was a kid,” drawled Walter. “Then I wouldn’t have had to weed the garden for fear of hurting the weeds.”

“There’s not a bit of poetry in you boys,” said Belle reproachfully.

“You’re mistaken there,” denied Paul. “We love beautiful things. If we didn’t we wouldn’t be chasing after you girls.”

There was only one other visitor to the camp, a sharp-eyed reticent man, who loitered about without betraying interest in anything especially. He made no attempt to join the party, but kept by himself.

“Who is our unsociable friend over there?” inquired Jack.

“I don’t know,” replied the foreman. “He’s been hanging around off and on for several days. He doesn’t talk much to the men, but he and I have chinned a little together. About all I know of him is that his name is Baxter. He doesn’t let on about his business.”

“Maybe he’s an author in search of local color,” hazarded Bess.

“More likely a detective,” remarked Jack. “You’d better look out, girls. He’s closing in upon you, knowing you are desperate criminals.”

After the foreman had left them, they climbed the slopes of the hill, and enjoyed the magnificent view from the summit. Then, as it was nearing noon, Jack suggested lunch.

“I’m keen to see what Aunt Betty has had put up for us,” he remarked, “and what I’ll do to it will be a sin and a shame.”

“Let’s go out into the woods to eat it,” suggested Cora.

“Isn’t this woods enough for you?” asked Paul, as he looked around.

“Not while we’re in sight of the mill,” returned Cora. “I want to go right out into the wild wilderness.”

“Mightn’t we get lost?” inquired Belle rather doubtfully.

“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.