The Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point
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Laura Lee Hope >> The Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point
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"It is a motorcycle," cried Amy excitedly. "The engine is making too
much noise for an automobile."
"Well," suggested Mrs. Ford quietly, "whoever it is, I think it might be
a good idea to get out of the middle of the road."
"But if we do," Grace protested, "he'll go right past us."
"And if we don't we'll get run over," added Mrs. Ford.
The girls looked at each other helplessly.
"I tell you," cried Betty suddenly, her eyes sparkling with a new idea.
"Give me that old red rag we use for a duster, Mollie, and I'll go and
signal your angel."
"Betty, you'll do no such thing," cried Amy, shocked, while Mollie dug
under the seat for the improvised signal flag. "Think of signaling a
strange man!"
"But you forget he's an angel in disguise," laughed Betty, snatching the
dust cloth Mollie held out to her. "Anyway," she added, over her
shoulder, "desperate cases require desperate remedies," and was off
round the turn of the road.
There wasn't much time to spare either, for when she had clambered up on
a rock by the side of the road, the motorcyclist was only a few hundred
feet away.
At the unexpected sight of a red rag wildly waved by a very graceful
little figure in a gray traveling suit, he looked surprised but promptly
put on his brakes. He leapt from his machine and came running toward her
while Betty descended from her perch just in time to meet him at the
foot of the rock.
"Is there anything the matter?" he asked, in a nice voice that Betty
immediately liked. In fact, she liked nearly everything about him, from
his sunburned face and merry blue eyes to his trim leather boots and
puttees. So she gave him a friendly little smile that showed all her
dimples, much to his secret admiration.
"Why, yes, there is," she answered, adding with a chuckle: "If there
hadn't been, I shouldn't have been perched on that old rock, waving a
ridiculous red dust rag!"
Then, as they made their way around the turn in the road toward the car
where Mrs. Ford and the girls were waiting for them, she explained the
situation, adding with another smile: "You see, I had to stop you some
way, so I chose the very first method I could think of."
"It certainly was effective," he answered, smiling.
Then after mutual introductions, by which the girls learned that their
new friend's name was Joe Barnes and that he had been on his way to
Deeming, a village about five miles away when Betty's red flag had
brought him to so sudden a stop, the youth went to work with a will at
the tire while the girls alternately watched him and helped by handing
him the tools he needed.
In what seemed no time at all to the girls he had finished his task and
had pulled out a handkerchief and was wiping his begrimed hands with it.
"My, you did do that in a hurry!" sighed Mollie, patting the new tire
happily. "You did in fifteen minutes what five of us couldn't do in half
an hour."
"You were probably tired," he answered, glancing at the car, which gave
unmistakable evidence of the many miles they had come that day. "Are
you, have you--" he hesitated, evidently not knowing whether his
question would be taken in good part or not. "Are you going very much
farther?"
"Only about a hundred miles," laughed Betty, then added in answer to his
startled glance: "Not to-night, though. We are just going as far as
Bensington."
"But Bensington is about fifteen miles away," he protested, adding as he
glanced up at a lowering gray cloud overhead: "And if I know anything
about weather signs, you will have to use some speed to get there before
the storm."
"The storm!" they cried simultaneously, following his glance, while
Mollie added petulantly:
"Goodness, haven't we had enough troubles for one day without getting a
drenching into the bargain?"
"But we haven't got the drenching yet," Mrs. Ford reminded her, adding,
with a cordial smile as she held out her hand to Joe Barnes: "We don't
know how to thank you Mr. Barnes, for taking all this trouble for us."
"Please don't," he begged, flashing his nice smile upon them. "I am only
too glad to have been of assistance. And now, if I might suggest--"
Another glance at the ominous cloud which had grown bigger and blacker
even in these few minutes, sent the girls scrambling unceremoniously to
their seats while Joe Barnes lifted his hat and stood waiting for them
to start. Once his eyes rested upon Betty, and there was so much
undisguised admiration in them that she flushed prettily and threw in
the clutch with a jerk that was not at all skillful.
"Good-bye," they called, and "good-bye," he answered, as the two cars
sprang forward in a cloud of dust. Not until they were out of sight did
Joe Barnes turn away and retrace his steps toward his deserted
motorcycle.
"Joe, my boy," he communed with himself, shaking his head over the
memory of Betty's dimples, "that little Miss Nelson is one girl in a
million. I wonder now," slowly mounting his machine and looking
reflectively at the road in front of it, "why I didn't ask if I might
call." Then the absurdity of the idea made him laugh at himself. "What
nonsense to think of taking advantage of an accident--Where was it they
said they were stopping for the night? Oh, yes, Bensington. Well, he
might go there and take a chance on seeing them--her. Fate might even be
kind to him and burst some more tires!" Then he laughed at himself again
and started his motor.
Meanwhile Grace, who had noticed Joe Barnes' expressive glance in
Betty's direction and the latter's subsequent confusion, commented upon
the coincidence.
"Goodness, Betty," she drawled lightly, "I always knew you were a heart
breaker, but I never saw you make a conquest in so short a time. Half an
hour and--poof--it's all over but the shouting."
Betty gave an annoyed little laugh.
"Don't be foolish, Gracie," she commanded adding reflectively as she
skillfully avoided a rock in the road: "He was awfully nice looking
though, and pleasant."
"Of course!"
"But I couldn't help wondering," Betty went on, as though talking to
herself, "why he was here at all when his country needs him."
"Um--yes, that was rather strange," mused Grace. "One isn't used to
seeing a young, good-looking and apparently healthy boy on this side of
the water these days, unless he's in khaki. I wonder if our knight by
the wayside is by any chance one of those insects we term--"
"Slackers?" finished Betty, adding in quick defense: "No, I'm quite sure
he isn't that kind. You know we have had a good chance to study both
types, and he doesn't look like a slacker."
"Granted," agreed Grace, adding with a quick change of mood: "Just the
same, it makes me feel desperate to see any young fellow running at his
own free will about the country, evidently enjoying life, while our boys
are giving up everything--"
"But, if Joe Barnes isn't a slacker," Betty reminded her gently, "he is
probably passionately envying our boys the right to 'give up
everything'."
"Perhaps," replied Grace, eyes fixed moodily upon the flying landscape.
"But when I think of Will--"
For a long time there was silence. Then Betty gave a little start and
regarded with disfavor a big drop that rested on the third finger of her
right hand. She immediately resigned the guidance of the car to her left
hand while she held up the right for Grace's inspection.
"What's the matter with it?" queried the latter, who had been engrossed
in her not too happy meditations.
"Rain," cried Betty succinctly, adding with a whimsical little smile: "I
don't know whether Joe Barnes is a slacker or not, but I do know he's a
good prophet. We surely shall have to put on some speed if we want to
reach Bensington before the storm!"
CHAPTER IX
THUNDER AND MUD
"You don't mean it's raining!" cried Grace, holding out a hand to see
for herself. "Oh, dear, and we have several miles to go before we even
reach the outskirts of Bensington. What shall we do now?"
"I don't know," answered Betty, while a worried frown wrinkled her
pretty forehead. "I don't know just how far out we are. Oh, there's a
signboard. What does it say, Gracie? You can read it better than I."
"Ten miles to Bensington," Grace read, leaning far out of the car. "Oh
Betty, we can't possibly make it! Listen to that!"
"That" was an ominous rumble of thunder, and Betty's pretty forehead
puckered still more.
"Well, we can at least put the top up," she said practically. "That will
keep the worst of it off anyway, and if we hurry we may have a chance of
beating it yet."
Betty brought the car to a stop, jumped out on the road with Grace at
her heels, and waited for Mollie to come up. They had not long to wait
for a moment later Mollie stopped her car with a grinding of brakes and
came running up to her chums.
"I was wondering how long you were going to ignore the warnings of
nature," she said, with a little grimace. "That cloud has been growing
with horrible rapidity for the last five minutes. What are your plans,
Captain?" and she favored Betty with a true military salute.
"I wish I had some," said the latter, cocking a still more anxious eye
at the threatening cloud. "And all I've been able to think of so far is
the very original idea of putting up the top."
"And side curtains," supplemented Mollie, with a chuckle. "Strange as it
may seem, even I have been favored with that inspiration."
"Well, let's get busy," suggested Amy, with practical, though slangy,
emphasis. "We're apt to get drowned while we stand here talking."
It was easy to see by the way they went to work that the girls agreed
with her. Even Mrs. Ford gave willing, though inexperienced, aid, and in
a very short time they had lifted the tops, adjusted the side curtains
and made all snug for the expected downpour.
Nor did they have very much time to spare. While they had been working,
the thunder had grown louder and more insistent and now the rain began
to fall in earnest.
"Duck!" cried Betty inelegantly, and they ran for shelter.
"Well," said Betty, as she pressed the self-starter and the engine
purred evenly, "it's bad, but it might be a good deal worse. We can't
get wet unless it's an unusually heavy downpour."
"Oh, it isn't getting wet that bothers me so much," said Grace, and
Betty looked at her in surprise. "It's the roads," she added by way of
explanation. "I've heard Aunt Mary say that they have terribly heavy
storms in this part of the country, and sometimes in half an hour the
roads get almost impassable. Many a machine has been known to sink three
or four inches in mud, and sometimes they get in so deep they have to be
hauled out."
"What a cheerful prospect!" cried Betty, dismayed, adding, as the rain
beat against the windshield in steady, driving sheets: "Especially as
this storm bids fair to be a record breaker. Look how muddy the roads
are already."
"And we haven't passed more than two or three wagons all the way out,"
wailed Grace. "And they didn't look strong enough to pull a toy machine
out. Oh, Betty, look out!"
The admonition was occasioned by a seemingly sudden wild desire on the
part of the car to stand on two wheels while it waved the other two
spinningly in the air.
Betty, though undeniably frightened, succeeded in persuading the erring
wheels to the muddy road again. Then she slackened her speed and began
to laugh hysterically.
"I don't see anything to laugh about," protested Grace, still breathless
with apprehension.
"Neither do I," admitted Betty, adding whimsically. "But I had either to
laugh or cry, so I decided to laugh. After all, you must admit, it was a
wonderful skid."
"The best of its kind," admitted Grace dryly. "But please don't try it
again, Honey, it has a wearing effect on my nerves!"
They were silent for a while after that, while Betty regarded the
increasingly muddy road ahead of her with anxious eyes. She had been
forced to slacken her speed more and more until now they were barely
crawling along.
"I'm afraid we're in an awfully tight fix," she said at last. "We're
just plowing through this mud, and if it's hard on us, what must it be
for Mollie, whose car is twice as heavy as this. Look behind, will you,
Gracie, and see how she's coming along?"
"She is just coming, and that's all," reported Grace, after a prolonged
scrutiny through the rain-glazed window. "Goodness, we've been out in
storms before, but I never saw anything like this. And listen to that
thunder--o-oh!"
A terrific clap of thunder caused Grace to clap her hands over her ears
with a little moan, while even steady-nerved Betty jumped in her seat
and took a tighter grip of the steering wheel.
"Oh, what shall we do!" cried Grace, for she hated a thunderstorm worse
than she hated anything else on earth. "We can't go on this way, Betty.
We're likely to get struck any moment."
"Well, I don't see that we'll be any less likely to get struck if we
stand still," retorted Betty, a little sharply, for the situation was
becoming wearing, to say the least. "If you can suggest any way that we
can get out of this fix--" the sentence was cut short by a still louder
and more terrifying clap of thunder.
Grace huddled in her seat, miserably trying not to die of fright.
"Is Mollie still following us?" asked Betty, after an interval of weird
flashes, crashing thunder, and rain beating relentlessly against the
glass in front and turning the road to a sea of mud. "If she should get
stuck I don't know what we would do."
"Yes, she's still struggling," replied Grace. "But it's getting so dark
I can't more than just make out the lines of the car. Oh, Betty, don't
you suppose we must be pretty close to Bensington?"
"No, I don't," Betty replied wearily. "You see how we've been
traveling--not more than a snail's pace, and it won't be very long
before we shall have to stop altogether. I'm surprised that Mollie has
been able to keep going so long. You will have to keep your eye on her
all the time, now, Grace, since it is getting so dark. We don't want to
lose her."
"But," Grace suggested hesitantly, "I don't see that we could do them
very much good by staying here with them, if they do get stuck. Wouldn't
it be better to go on and try to make Bensington? Then we could send
help back to them."
"I've thought of that," said Betty simply, "and it would work all right
provided we did manage to reach Bensington. But the probability is that
we would be forced to stop a little further on, and I must say I don't
exactly enjoy the prospect of spending the night alone on this deserted
road."
Grace shivered, but answered with a nervous little laugh: "I don't know
but what we would be safe enough at that. If we can't get through,
probably nobody else could."
"Just the same," said Betty decidedly, "I think I would rather cling to
the old theory that there is safety in numbers. Besides, probably your
mother would rather decide that for us. Are they still coming, Grace?"
"Goodness, you remind me of Bluebeard's wife," Grace laughed
hysterically. "I thought you were going to say, 'Sister Anne, Sister
Anne, do you see a man'?"
"Well, I see something better than a man," cried Betty suddenly,
straining her eyes through the darkness and the streaming windshield.
"Grace honey, do my eyes deceive me, or is that a light?"
"A light!" cried Grace excitedly. "Oh, Betty, where--wait--yes, I see
it! It is a light! And there's another! Two lighted windows! Betty,
honey, we're saved!"
"It's a house!" cried Betty jubilantly, while the hand that held the
steering wheel shook with relief. "You darling, wonderful house. Gracie,
dear, I think it showed on the horizon just in the nick of time. Look
behind once more."
"Yes, they're still coming. Oh, if they only don't get stuck in front of
the door!"
"Don't be a goose, Gracie," chided Betty, feeling in hilarious spirits
now that the end of their trouble was in sight. "You ought to get down
on your knees in thankfulness that there is a front door to get stuck in
front of!"
"Oh, is that so?" mocked Grace, her own spirits reviving at the prospect
of relief. "Well, I'm thankful enough, but I certainly don't intend to
get down on my knees about it. There isn't room in here and you can see
it's too muddy outside!"
Two minutes later Betty swung the little car from the, by this time,
almost impassable road on to a gloriously graveled driveway that led up
to the hospitably lighted house.
"Now, if whoever lives here will only let us in," she sighed, as she
stopped the car and glanced behind to be sure Mollie was following them,
"we'll have nothing left to ask for."
"Except something to eat," amended Grace hungrily. "I thought I had
eaten enough lunch to last me a week, but I see I'm muchly mistaken.
What shall we do, Betty?" as the latter started to open the curtain and
closed it quickly again as the rain beat in upon them. "We are apt to
get soaked just running that little distance to the porch."
"And the umbrellas are all wrapped up in the back of Mollie's car,"
lamented Betty, then added, with sudden decision: "I guess unless we
want to sit here all night we'd better chance it. I for one am so
hungry I'd be willing to brave more than a rain for the sake of
something to eat."
"I'd say so!" groaned Grace, again reminded of her own state of
starvation. "You get out your side Betty and I'll get out mine and we'll
make a quick dash for it."
[Illustration: GRACE AND BETTY MADE A QUICK DASH FOR SHELTER. _The
Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point._ _Page 83._]
So they lifted the curtains and slipped out, thankful for the gravel
walk that, while it was wet and slippery, was still a delightful
contrast to the muddy sea of road they had left. They ran head down
against the blinding rain, and gained the bottom step of the porch at
the same time.
A moment more, and they had climbed to the shelter of the porch itself,
out of breath but jubilant.
"Thank goodness!" cried Grace.
"And here come your mother and Mollie and Amy," chuckled Betty as the
trio followed their example and raced for the porch. "I guess none of
them ever knew she could run so fast in her life before. Hello, folks.
Beautiful weather, isn't it?" she inquired gayly, as the three
scrambled, panting, up on the porch. "You seem in a terrible hurry to
get somewhere."
"Speak for yourself, John," gasped Mollie, shaking out her wet skirts
and trying to regain some of her dignity by putting her hat on straight.
"If you could know what I've been through for the last hour, just
coaxing the car along an inch at a time--"
"Well," laughed Betty, as she turned to the front door and pushed the
bell, "I've been through a little bit of everything, myself, for the
last few hours, except a good square meal. And, judging from the
delightful aroma that hovers about this place," she added sniffing
hungrily, "I shouldn't wonder if that oversight wouldn't be swiftly
remedied!"
Then the door opened and a tall, gray-haired lady stood in the lighted
doorway.
CHAPTER X
THE KNIGHT OF THE WAYSIDE
The lady stared at the bedraggled party in amazed silence for a moment.
Then Mrs. Ford stepped impulsively forward.
"I don't wonder you look surprised," she said in her sweetly modulated
voice, "for this is rather an unheard of calling hour. But you see we
were caught in this awful downpour and had to seek your house for
refuge."
"Oh, I'm sorry!" exclaimed the lady, opening the door wider and
motioning them into the cheerfully lighted living room. "I didn't mean,"
she added with a smile, as they most willingly accepted her invitation,
"that I was sorry you came, but that you were forced to come by such
conditions. Won't you take off your things? But you are wet!" she
exclaimed, as the girls started to remove their dripping wraps.
"And we got it all," said Mrs. Ford with a wry smile, "just running
about twenty feet from our cars to your porch."
"Your cars!" the hostess repeated. "Then you motored down. If I had
known that I shouldn't have been so surprised at seeing you. Pedestrians
are rather rare on a night like this."
"Yes, and motorists, too, if they have any sense," said Mollie dryly, at
which they all laughed and their hostess looked still more interested.
"Please sit down and dry out a little," said the lady, indicating a
grate fire which had evidently only recently been lighted on account of
the chill in the air. "I'm glad I had the fire made. I must have known,"
she added with a gracious smile, "that you were coming to-night."
Then she excused herself, and the girls held out eager hands to the
fire.
"This is bliss," sighed Amy.
"Well, this is some contrast to about five minutes ago," chuckled Grace.
"I thought we were in for a night in the mud at least."
"I'll never say we aren't lucky again," agreed Betty, leaning an arm on
the mantel and getting her wet skirt as close to the fire as she could.
"We were just wondering," she added, addressing Mrs. Ford, "whether, if
Mollie's car got stuck, you would rather have Grace and me struggle on
to Bensington and get some help or stay and keep you company. Although,"
she added ruefully, "if we couldn't pull through that mud, I don't know
what we could find in Bensington to do it."
"Probably the only gasoline vehicles they have in the place are
jitneys," agreed Mollie, with a chuckle.
"I wonder," Amy broke in, apropos of nothing, "who our charming hostess
is. She seems so lovely. It seems odd to meet a person like her and a
house like this out in the wilderness."
"Yes, one does rather expect a farmer's wife and a rambling old
farmhouse so far out in the country," agreed Mrs. Ford.
"Well, maybe her husband is a scientific farmer," suggested Mollie,
adding wickedly as she turned a merry eye on Grace: "The kind Roy once
said he'd like to be. Remember, Grace?"
"Yes, I remember," Grace answered in a tone that indicated the memory
was not a pleasant one. "And I told him he had better drop that idea in
a hurry if he expected me--I mean--any girl--" she floundered, while
they laughed mockingly at her, "to have anything to do with him," she
finished rather weakly, while the girls giggled exasperatingly.
"Well, I don't know," remarked Betty, in an altruistic effort to pour
oil upon the troubled waters, "that I would particularly mind marrying a
scientific farmer if they all have houses like this and acres of ground
with orchards and cows and chickens--"
"And potato bugs," finished Grace, while the girls laughed merrily.
"Well," remarked Mollie, with a desperate gleam in her eye, "I'd marry
just about anybody who would give me a square meal."
"Goodness," remarked Betty, twinkling, "it's mighty lucky for Frank that
there aren't any young men of marriageable age on the horizon just now."
The next moment she regretted her innocent little speech, for she could
see that the mention of the boys had brought more vividly to Grace and
Mrs. Ford and Amy the thought of Will--dear, bright, merry Will--lying
wounded in some far-away hospital, how badly wounded they could not
know, and dared not think.
The silence that fell upon them was broken by the sound of their
hostess' voice, evidently issuing a command to some one in the kitchen.
Then the lady herself swept into the room.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long," she apologized, "but I
have had to help the maid get dinner on the table. She is a new one,
and, oh, so utterly helpless. Then, too, I was hoping my son would come
home, but since everything is ready and I know you must be starving, we
won't delay dinner any longer. If you will come, please--"
"But this is imposing upon good nature," protested Mrs. Ford, as the
lady held back the portiers and disclosed an inviting table set for
seven, elaborate with shining crystal and silver. "To drop down upon you
from a clear--or rather, a cloudy sky--"
They laughed, and their hostess dismissed the protest with a little wave
of her hand.
"It is a pleasure," she said, adding, as they took their places: "I am
only thankful that a lucky chance enabled me to entertain you well
to-night. I was expecting guests from the nearest farm, but since our
next door neighbors are five miles down the road, they hesitated to make
the trip because of the threatening weather. I guess it is just as well
for them they did not come," and she paused to listen to the rain which
was still pouring down in torrents.
Mrs. Ford made an appropriate answer, and the two ladies entered into a
little confidential chat that left the girls pretty much to their own
devices. And they were trying their best not to disgrace themselves and
to pay decorous attention to what their hostess was saying, while their
hearty young appetites were crying their protests aloud.
At last came the new maid whom their hostess had described as 'so
utterly helpless,' looking to the famished girls an angelic being,
bearing about her an aroma of tomato soup and fried chicken, more
tempting than ambrosia.
Without any perceptible hesitation, the girls immediately began to eat
and continued the agreeable occupation without interruption to the end
of the meal, save for an answer to a question or two asked by their
hostess.
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