The Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point
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Laura Lee Hope >> The Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point
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The girls listened, but all they could hear was the sighing of the wind
about the house. Then, far off in the distance, came a soft rumble of
thunder.
"Oh, I hope it doesn't storm," cried Amy, shivering. "That would be
about the last straw."
And upstairs, in the room that Betty shared with Grace, grief and fear
and horror stalked about unfettered and gazed upon the little figure on
the bed.
So still and white and rigid it was that the girls would have been still
more frightened could they have seen it. For, propped on her elbows,
with grim, set face supported by her clenched fists, Betty was gazing
unseeingly out at the darkness beyond the square of window pane.
"Somewhere he's out there," she kept saying over and over to herself.
"If he's dead, there's the mud and grime--" she shuddered "--and blood
too--rivers of it. But if he's captured--Oh, I can't think--I mustn't
think--"
And then she would begin all over again--
"Allen is lying out there--" over and over again, till her brain whirled
and her head ached and she felt faint and sick. Still she could not cry.
Her heart was frozen--that was it. And how could one cry when one's
heart was frozen? Oh, Allen! Allen! How could she go on living without
him? If she could only cry--if she could only cry!
What was that? Thunder. The artillery of heaven! Did they have war in
heaven, she wondered. With a queer little laugh she got up and walked to
the window.
A flash of lightning greeted her, illumining the world outside, flashing
into bold relief the familiar objects of the little room. She knelt down
by the window, regardless of danger, and lifted her face to the rising
wind.
She welcomed the storm. It seemed, in some mysterious way, to quiet the
tumult within her. She stretched out her arms to it and cried aloud her
misery.
"Allen, my Allen, you will come back to me, won't you, dear? You
promised. Oh, Allen, if you're alive are you thinking of me now? Are you
thinking of Betty?"
A sharper clap of thunder seemed to answer her, and then quite suddenly
the ice melted from about her heart. Her head went down upon her arms
and great sobs shook her from head to foot.
It was so the girls found her a few minutes later, and with cries of
pity lifted her to her feet and half-led, half-carried her back to the
bed.
"We didn't know whether to come up or not," Mollie said hesitatingly.
"But we thought maybe you would need us, Dear. If you would rather be
alone--"
But Betty shook her head and reached out an unsteady little hand which
Mollie instantly took in her warm clasp.
"No, I want you to stay," she said, trying desperately to choke back her
sobs. "If some one will--just please--give me a--h-handkerchief."
Amy slipped one into her hand, and Betty dabbed fiercely at the tears
which still would come.
"Don't try not to cry, Honey," whispered Mollie, putting an
understanding arm about the Little Captain's shoulders and holding her
close. "Tears are just the very best things in the world to help one
through a crisis."
"Yes," added Grace, gently smoothing the hair back from Betty's hot
forehead, while Amy sprinkled some toilet water on a fresh handkerchief
and slipped it unobtrusively into Betty's other hand, "we'll just sit
here and wait till you're all through."
"Then we're going to take you down and give you some hot tea and toast
and love you a little," finished Amy.
All of which loving sympathy very nearly caused a fresh outburst on
Betty's part. However, she finally got the better of the storm within
her and even managed a little smile for the benefit of the girls.
Then she wiped away the last tear, sighed, and walked over to the
window.
"The storm didn't amount to much after all," she said, after a while,
very quietly. "Perhaps," and her voice was very wistful, "it's a good
omen. We'll all hope so, anyway."
"Betty, Betty, you're so wonderful," cried Mollie adoringly. "I never
saw any one so brave. You make me ashamed of myself."
"Oh, but I'm not brave," denied Betty, turning back to them. "I'm not
the least little bit brave. I--I went all to pieces a few minutes ago.
But he isn't reported dead," she added, drawing herself up, while two
defiant spots of color burned in her face. "And until he is, I'm going
to hold on to the hope that he is coming back. Nobody can take that from
me, anyway!"
"Now, you're making me ashamed of myself," said Grace in a small voice,
while the tears glistened in her eyes. "Here I've been imagining the
very worst, while you-- Oh, Betty, forgive me, won't you, Dear?"
Betty looked at her in real surprise.
"I haven't anything to forgive," she said.
CHAPTER XXI
A NARROW ESCAPE
The next day dawned gloriously bright, and the girls chose to take it as
a good omen. Following Betty's example, they stopped moping about and
imagining the worst, and, although there was not a minute of the day
when their hearts were not aching, they managed to smile when the others
were looking and to speak hopefully of the future. Under Betty's gallant
leadership, they had set up hope in their hearts and refused to give
despair a foothold.
"What do you say to a swim?" Mollie suggested, looking out over the
sparkling white sand to the inviting water beyond. "We've only been in
swimming twice since we've been here."
"That is a terrible record for Outdoor Girls," Betty agreed. She was
bustling busily about the cheerful kitchen making a tempting blueberry
pie. There were circles under her eyes and she looked very pale for
Betty, but her voice was bright and cheery.
"Can't you stop making pies for a few minutes?" asked Mollie, turning
to look at her. "It's too nice outdoors to waste time in cooking."
"I imagine you wouldn't say that to-night," retorted Betty, fluting the
edges of her pie crust. "I notice you generally like the results of my
labor."
"Who wouldn't?" returned Mollie. "I only know of one person who can make
better pies."
"And that's yourself, of course." Betty made a little face at her and
slipped the pie into the oven. "Just for that you can have only one
piece to-night!"
"I don't care, if you'll only stop working and come along," insisted
Mollie. "If I stay in the house much longer I'll start thinking
again--and you know what that means."
Betty gave her a quick side-glance, hastily dusted the flour from her
hands and took off her apron.
"I'm all ready," she announced. "Where are the other girls?"
"In the living room, reading and eating candy--or at least Grace is
doing the candy part. Amy has sworn off, you know."
The girls agreed eagerly to the proposed swim, and in a few minutes had
donned their suits and caps and pronounced themselves ready.
"I ought to get a letter from mother to-day," said Mollie, as her feet
sank in the soft sand. "She said yesterday that the detectives had
picked up a clue and thought they were on the right trail at last."
"Why didn't you tell us?" Betty demanded.
"Oh, I don't know," Mollie replied wearily. "I didn't think there was
any use telling you until I had something really definite. You know the
chief business of a detective is nosing out false clues," she finished
scornfully.
"Well, I know once we met a perfectly capable detective," remarked
Betty. By this time they had reached the water and she put one toe into
it experimentally.
"Ouch--it's cold," she said.
"When did we meet a capable detective?" queried Mollie, looking
interested.
"Just after we went to Camp Liberty when Will traced the German spy,"
Betty reminded her. "Did you ever see prettier detective work in your
life?"
"Yes, it was splendid," Mollie admitted, but the reference proved to be
an unfortunate one. It brought back vividly the picture of Will as he
had been then, at the height of his triumph over the apprehension of the
spy--in which the Outdoor Girls had also played an important part--and
jubilant at the prospect of being able to join the colors at last and
fight in the army of democracy.
Try as they would, they could not enter into the fun as they would have
done a few weeks before. They swam about languidly and found to their
surprise that they became quickly and easily tired.
"I never knew before how much influence mind has over matter," said
Mollie, after they had come out on the beach again. "I declare, even my
muscles feel depressed!"
"As Outdoor Girls we're getting to be marvelous failures," remarked
Grace, as she wrung the water from her skirt and plumped down in the
sand. "I feel as weak as a rag."
"I guess it isn't much use trying to enjoy ourselves," sighed Betty
plaintively. "I've done my best, but all the time I feel as if I were
just trying to kid myself, in the vulgar vernacular."
"For goodness sake, don't you give up, Betty!" cried Grace, in alarm.
"If you get discouraged, then I don't know what we shall do."
"I'm not really discouraged--" Betty began, when a terrified cry cut her
short and the girls sprang to their feet bewildered.
"Where is it?" cried Mollie, but Betty caught her arm and pointed with
shaking fingers to an orange-colored cap bobbing on the water several
hundred feet from shore.
"It's Amy!" she gasped. "Something must have happened. Come on, girls!
Who's going with me?"
Without waiting for an answer, she was off like a shot with Mollie and
Grace close behind.
They had not missed quiet little Amy, and if they had, would probably
have thought she had gone for an unusually long swim. And now had come
her frantic cry for help.
"What is the matter?" Betty cried over and over to herself, as she put
all her strength into the long, powerful strokes. Amy was a splendid
swimmer, almost as good as Betty herself.
For one terrible moment the thought of sharks dashed into Betty's mind
and she shuddered. But the next minute reason reasserted itself and she
realized that sharks had never been seen on this coast. Baby ones,
perhaps, but not the man-eating variety.
She raised her head from the water and gazed in the direction of the
vivid cap. Yes, there it was! Thank heaven there was still time.
"Amy! Amy!" she called, "I'm coming. Just hold on for a minute, Honey.
I'm almost to you."
No answer came back to her, and when she looked again for the cap she
found to her horror that it was gone.
"Oh," she moaned, "I'm too late. I'm too late. Oh, Amy, Amy, just
another minute--just a little minute--" she redoubled her efforts and
suddenly gave a shout of joy.
There was the cap again, almost under her hand. In her frenzy of haste
she had covered the distance with almost unbelievable speed.
Her shout seemed to rouse Amy, who had been struggling feebly to keep
her head above the water, and the girl turned a terror-stricken face to
her.
"Can you put a hand on my shoulder?" gasped Betty, beginning to feel the
tremendous effort she had made. "Hang on to me, Honey, and we'll get out
of this all right."
Amy clutched her shoulder, and slowly the Little Captain turned about,
saving her strength for the long swim back. She could not be too long
about it either, she thought desperately. Amy was almost exhausted and
had all she could do to keep her head above the water.
It all depended on her, Betty. If she could get to shore, carrying the
double weight before Amy's strength left her and she gave up altogether,
all well and good. But if she could not--she groaned and set herself
grimly to her task.
She had covered about an eighth of the distance back when her heart
leapt suddenly and she gave a sigh of relief. There were two other
bobbing caps on the water coming rapidly nearer--and those two caps
could belong to nobody but Mollie and Grace.
[Illustration: TWO OTHER BOBBING CAPS WERE COMING RAPIDLY NEARER. _The
Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point._ _Page 193._]
That meant help--and, oh, she did need help! She was putting forth all
her strength, but to her agonized fancy she was not going forward at
all. Amy's almost dead weight dragging at her shoulder seemed a
nightmare. Yet she dreaded beyond anything else to be relieved of the
weight for that would mean--. She refused to put the awful thought into
words, merely driving herself on more desperately. And all the time she
was gasping out words of hope and courage to the poor girl she
supported.
Amy seemed beyond words, for she made no answer, merely clutching
Betty's shoulder more tightly and holding on with a grimness born of
terror.
Then just as the gallant Little Captain felt her strength going and knew
she could not hold out much longer, Mollie came abreast of her with
Grace a few feet behind.
Mollie shook the water from her eyes, gave one glance at Betty's face,
then gave peremptory orders.
"Give her to me, Betty," she directed. "I guess you're about all in.
That's it, Amy; grasp my shoulder with your other hand. Get a good grip
before you let go of Betty. That's the way. Now we're all right. Between
us we'll have you in in a jiffy. All right, Betty? Do you need help
yourself?"
But Betty shook her head, her long steady strokes keeping her even with
Mollie. In a moment Grace came up to them and directed Amy to put her
free hand on her shoulder, and in this fashion they finally reached
shallow water.
They found that they were not a moment too soon, for as they got to
their feet and stooped to lift Amy, they found that she had fainted.
"Thank heaven that didn't happen out there," cried Betty, with a
shuddering glance out over the treacherous water.
Between them, fatigued though they were with the ordeal they had just
gone through, they got Amy to the shore and began to work over her.
It did not take very long to bring her back to consciousness, for Amy
had a wonderful constitution and strong vitality. However, it seemed
ages to the anxious girls who worked over her, and when at last she
opened her eyes they were ready to cry with relief.
"H-how do you feel?" asked Betty tremulously, for she was beginning to
feel the reaction. "Are you all right?"
"Don't try to get up," commanded Mollie, as Amy tried weakly to raise
herself on her elbow.
"Just lie still and you'll feel better in a minute," Grace added, while
Amy looked from one to the other of them with wide, bewildered eyes.
"What happened," she asked, then, as memory came sweeping back to her,
she gave a little cry and covered her eyes with her hand.
"Oh, girls," she cried, "I thought I was going to die!"
"Yes, yes, we know," said Betty soothingly, as though she were talking
to a little child, "but you're all right now, dear."
"Don't try to tell us about it unless you want to," added Mollie.
"I swam out farther than I meant to," Amy went on, as though they had
not spoken. "And when I tried to get back I found that something was
wrong with my right leg." She was shivering with exhaustion and the
memory of the awful experience she had gone through, but when the girls
tried to stop her she would not listen and hurried on feverishly.
"It was a cramp I guess, and the harder I tried to get rid of it the
worse it got till finally I got panic-stricken. I called to you girls,
but you didn't seem to hear me. Then--" she paused, and the girls held
their breath as she looked around at them. "Then--I went down. I came up
again and called, and--and--I saw you, Betty. Oh, it was terrible!"
"Then," cried Betty, her voice trembling, "when you went down that last
time--"
"I didn't go down," Amy contradicted her. "I struggled so hard that I
succeeded in getting my head above water and--that was when you reached
me--Betty--"
"Thank Heaven," said Betty, with a little sob, "that I was there!"
CHAPTER XXII
DARKNESS BEFORE THE DAWN
"Well," said Mollie, with a sigh, "I fancy there isn't very much use of
our sitting around here in our bathing suits. I, for one, don't feel
like swimming any more to-day."
"Nor I," agreed Grace.
"And I," said Amy, turning away with a shudder from the water where she
had so closely come to death, "feel as if I never wanted to see the
water again."
"Oh, but you will get over that," Betty assured her quickly. "I don't
blame you a bit for feeling that way now--I do myself--but after a while
you will be just as crazy about it as ever."
"I don't know," said Amy slowly. "When you have once come face to face
with death like that, you are not anxious to do it again in a hurry."
"But you have never had a cramp before," reasoned Mollie, "and you
probably never will have one again."
"But I am not sure of that," insisted Amy.
"There's no reason why you can't be sure of it after a while," Betty
pointed out. "You see, we girls are pretty well out of practice. It's a
long time since we did any swimming to amount to anything, and our
muscles are weak and flabby. Why, we all got tired out to-day twice as
quickly as we ordinarily would."
"And you tried to swim too far," added Mollie. "That's the reason your
poor old muscles protested."
"It might have happened to any one of us," Grace agreed. "All we need is
a little practice to swim as well as ever again."
"Oh, do you think so?" asked Amy eagerly, while the color came back into
her pale cheeks. "If I could only be sure of that!"
Betty was about to reply, but at that minute a voice hailed them from
the direction of the house and they jumped up to see what was wanted.
"It's mother," said Grace. "And she seems to be waving something at us."
"It's an envelope," cried Mollie. "It may be a letter from mother."
She started running toward the house, with Grace, thinking of Will, at
her heels, while Betty helped Amy to her feet.
"Are you feeling stronger now?" she asked. "Or would you rather rest a
little longer?"
"Oh, I'm all right," Amy assured her, though for a minute she had to
cling to Betty for support.
They made their way rather slowly after the others. Before they had
reached the foot of the bluff Mollie came scrambling down again and ran
toward them wildly.
"What do you think has happened now?" she cried, taking Amy's other arm
and helping her along.
"Oh, Mollie," cried Amy, standing stock still to gaze at her, "what--"
"The twins haven't been found?" Betty questioned eagerly, but Mollie
shook her head.
"No such luck," she returned. "But we have found out one thing. Those
blessed little twins are alive, anyway."
"How do you know?" they queried breathlessly.
By this time they had reached the top of the bluff and were all, Mrs.
Ford included, hurrying toward the house.
"They received a letter," Mollie explained, sinking down on a step of
the porch while the others crowded about her eagerly, "from some old
rascal--oh, if I could only get my hands on him!" she paused to glare
about her ferociously, but they impatiently hurried her on.
"Yes! But the letter!" Betty urged.
"It was from a man who demanded twenty thousand dollars--" she paused
again, while the girls gasped and crowded closer, "for the return of the
twins."
"Then they were kidnapped!" cried Grace.
"Yes. But they ran away first," explained Mollie, almost beside herself
with anger and excitement. "And this old--brute! found them, and, I
suppose because they were well dressed, thought he saw a way to make
some easy money. Oh, my poor darlings! My poor little Paul and Dodo!
Girls, we've just got to find them, that's all. I can't sit here and do
nothing a minute longer."
"But the police--" Amy suggested.
"Oh, the police! Of course they are on the job--or think they are,"
interrupted Mollie scornfully. "But I don't believe they will be able to
find our babies in a thousand years. And every time I think of them,
frightened to death! Oh, our precious babies!"
"I wonder how he found out where they lived," broke in Grace, who had
been following her own train of thought.
"They told him, of course," said Mollie. "Poor little trusting angels,
of course they would think any grown person was their friend. Oh, if
they had only fallen in with some respectable person instead of
that--that--" she could think of nothing bad enough to call the man who
had stolen the twins.
"Of course," said Mrs. Ford--it was the first time she had spoken--"your
mother showed the letter to the police."
"Of course," Mollie agreed, two angry spots of color in her cheeks. "And
equally of course they have promised to do all in their power to
apprehend the villain. But it makes me wild to just sit here and do
nothing!"
"But I don't see what there is to do," said Amy.
"Neither do I," cried Mollie, jumping to her feet and beginning to pace
restlessly up and down the porch. "That's the worst of it. I feel so
absolutely helpless. And all the time I have no way of knowing what
horrible thing may be happening--"
"Oh, the man is probably treating them pretty decently," said Betty,
adding, reasonably: "If he hopes to get all that money from your mother
he isn't going to take a chance on losing it by harming the twins."
"I know," cried Mollie, stopping in her restless promenade to regard
Betty. "But how in the world is mother going to raise any such sum of
money? Twenty thousand dollars--why, we haven't that much ready cash in
the world!"
"But he doesn't know that," Grace pointed out. "And as long as he keeps
on hoping--"
"But how long is he going to keep on hoping?" cried Mollie, turning on
her. "He knows mighty well that if mother had that much money she would
move heaven and earth to get it together and get the twins back. And the
very fact that she hasn't--"
"Oh, but that doesn't always follow," Betty broke in eagerly. "There are
a great many people who, even if they had the money, would try to bring
the rascal to justice before they submitted to blackmail."
"But not my mother," Mollie insisted.
"But the kidnapper doesn't know that," Grace put in. "And he will
probably lie mighty low for a few weeks, knowing that the police are
hunting for him."
"For the next few weeks, yes," admitted Mollie. "But he isn't going to
wait forever, and when he finds out that mother can't raise the money
what would be the natural thing for him to do? Get the twins out of the
way, of course," she said, answering her own question.
"But there is always the chance--yes even the probability--" insisted
Betty, "that before very long the police will be able to find the fellow
and recover the twins."
"Yes," Grace added, "that kind of criminal is never very clever, you
know. They are bound to leave something undone that will incriminate
them."
Mollie groaned and sank into a chair.
"And in the meantime," she said, "all I have to do is just to sit here
and wait and act as if nothing had happened. Oh, I can't! I've simply
got to do something!"
"Well, I'm sure I don't know how a girl can do anything that the police
can't," sighed Grace, adding wistfully: "Goodness, wouldn't I like a
chance to be happy again!"
"I guess we all would," said Mollie moodily.
They were silent for a long time after that, each one busy with her own
unhappy thoughts and no one noticed that the sun had gone under a cloud
and that the wind was rising.
It was the increasing thunder of the waves on the rocks that finally
startled them into a realization of the present.
"There's a fearful storm coming up!" cried Grace, springing to her feet.
"Look at those banks of clouds."
"And I'm getting cold," added Amy, shivering, and then they suddenly
realized that they still had on their bathing suits.
"I guess we're going crazy--and no wonder," said Grace, as they started
indoors to change their things.
"Has any one any idea what time it is?" asked Mollie. "I'm sure I
haven't."
"It must be after twelve, for I'm beginning to feel hungry," Betty
answered.
"And I'm feeling faint," Amy added. "I shouldn't wonder if a cup of tea
would go awfully well."
"You poor little thing," said Betty, putting an arm about her. "No
wonder you feel faint. We should have given you something to strengthen
you long ago. I don't know what we've been thinking of!"
"It's all my fault," said Mollie contritely, noticing suddenly how white
Amy's face was and how dark were the circles under her eyes. "I let my
own affairs make me forget everything else. Why didn't you say
something, Amy?"
"I didn't think of it myself," Amy answered truthfully, "until Betty
spoke of being hungry. Girls," she paused outside her door to sniff
inquiringly, "do I smell something, or am I dreaming?"
"I'll say you smell something," Grace answered, sniffing hungrily in her
turn. "It's mother getting lunch, of course. I don't know what we ever
would have done without her."
While the girls were dressing the threatened storm was coming nearer,
and toward the end they had to put on the light to see to fix their
hair.
Even had the sun been shining brightly, they would have felt depressed,
what with Amy's accident and the bad news Mollie had received; but with
the wind wailing dolefully and black darkness in the middle of the day,
they felt themselves growing utterly discouraged.
Grace had heard no further news of Will, and the one straw of hope that
she clutched so desperately was that he had not died, or surely her
father would have heard. In this case, no news was good news to a
certain extent.
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