A more frightened set of girls than were our young friends that night could scarcely be imagined. Although Cora did tramp around after Ed and his lamp, with her pistol in her hand, she was trembling, and had good reason to be alarmed. As for Bess and Belle, they were, as Hazel said, "tied up in a knot" on the bottom of Cora's car, too terrified to cry. Hazel herself felt no inclination to explore on her own account, but was actually walking on Jack's heels, as he poked the motor lamp in and out of possible hiding places, seeking the mysterious shadow that had been seen to move and had been heard to rustle in the grass.
But he was not found—a big slouch hat being the only tangible clew unearthed to a real personality. And this Walter dug out of a hole near a rear wheel of theWhirlwind.
"Don't tell the girls," he whispered to Jack, "but here's his top-piece."
"Put it away—in theComet. We might need it," said Jack, in the same low voice.
"Well, girls, of course you are frightened," began Ed. "What do you say to all crowding into theWhirlwindand talking it out the rest of the night? We could make noise enough to scare away a dozen tramps."
This idea was greeted with delight, even Bess and Belle venturing to poke their heads out of the tonneau door to beg the boys "all to come in."
No more thought of Miss Robbins! It was now a matter of doing the best they could to restore something of the girls' lost nerves. And Ed, Jack and Walter undertook the task with considerable more seriousness than it had occurred to the much-alarmed girls it might be necessary to give the matter.
All the girls asked for was protection—all the boys thought of giving was confidence.
"My poor, dearWhirlwind" sighed Cora, as Ed assisted her into the tonneau. "To think that you have made all this trouble!"
"No such thing," interrupted Walter gallantly. "It is up to us. We deserted you just to see who would make the hill in best time, and this serves us right."
Bess, Belle and Hazel found plenty of room on the broad-cushioned seat, while Jack decided that he wouldn't mind in the least sitting down on the floor beside Cora, who had the folding chair.
Ed and Walter took their places outside "on the box," and when the three other cars were lined up close the dark, dreary night under the trees, with the prospect of a man crawling around with malice aforethought, brightened up some. Even the moon peeked through the trees to make things look more pleasant, and to Belle company had never been so delightful before. She actually laughed at everything Jack said, and agreed that it would be fun to live in a motor houseboat.
Cora alone was silent. She pleaded fatigue, but Jack knew that his sister did not give in to fatigue so easily; he also knew that she had seen the gypsy's hat!
She lay with her head pillowed on her brother's shoulder and closed her eyes, feigning sleep.
It was the same little sister Jack often told stories to, and the same black head that now was so glad to rest where many other evenings it had rested, when the mother was out and the sister did not like to "go to bed all alone, please, Jackie dear!"
"It's a great thing to have a brother," blurted out Bess, in her ridiculous way, until Jack declared that he had another shoulder, and she might appropriate it if she wished to be a "sister" to him.
"I guess I am too nervous to motor at night," admitted Belle. "I think, after this trip, I will plan mine by daylight."
"But this was so planned," said Cora. "Whoever thought we would be stalled, that we would lose Miss Robbins, and that we would have to camp out all night in theWhirlwind?"
"Of course, whoever thought it?" agreed Jack, stroking the head on his shoulder.
"Do you suppose Walter and Ed are dead?" asked Cora.
"Not that, but sleeping," returned Jack. "If they die they will never forget it as long as they live. There is a sacred duty in standing picket duty."
"Oh, a light!" suddenly screamed Bess. "It's coming this way!"
"Steady, there," shouted Ed, in his clear, deep voice. "Pass to the left!" and he tooted the horn of theWhirlwind.
"A machine!" announced Jack, as he jumped up and peered through the wind shield.
"Oh! isn't that lovely?" gasped Belle, willing at once to abandon her company for the prospect of getting out of the woods.
By this time a big motor car had slowed up at the side of the other cars. The chauffeur alighted and, with all the chivalry of the road, asked what the trouble was. Leaving out the scare and the hat part, the boys soon told of their difficulty and the young ladies' plight, whereat an old gentleman, the only occupant of the car, insisted that the young ladies get in with him, and that his man, Benson, be allowed to tow the stalled car out of the hills. They decided to do this, agreeing that they had had enough of "camping out."
"What name? What name did you say, sir?" he asked Jack, at the same time kicking his many robes up into a corner to make all possible room ill his magnificent car.
"Kimball," replied Jack, "of Chelton, and the other names are——"
"That's enough, plenty," the gentleman declared heartily. "I knewJoseph Kimball, of Chelton, and I guess he was your father."
"Yes," replied Jack, astonished at thus meeting a family friend.
"Well, when he went to Chelton I located in New Hampshire; that's whereI belong."
"Do you? That's where we are going—to the White Mountains, after a little stay in the Berkshires," finished Jack, as he handed Cora into the handsome car, and then likewise assisted Hazel and Belle.
"Well, I guess we can fix you up then," said the old gentleman, in that hearty manner that can never be mistaken for mere politeness. "I have a girl of my own. We are in the Berkshires now."
"I will be delighted to know——" then Cora stopped. She had not yet heard the gentleman's name.
"Betty Rand—that's my girl. She's Elizabeth, of course, but Betty's good enough for me. Get right in here, girlie," to Belle. "Got room enough?"
"Oh, yes, plenty, thank you," and Belle slipped down into the cushions with an audible sigh.
"Well, you can depend upon Benson. See that! He's got the car hitched already! Never saw a fellow like Benson," and Mr. Rand spread the robe over the knees of Belle and Cora, with whom he sat, while Hazel had taken the small chair. "Keep warm," he told her. "Night air out here is trickish. I always take plenty of robes along."
Hazel assured him that she had every comfort, and then they heard Ed toot the horn of theFlyaway, as he and Bess started off in the lead. Walter was in hisComet, and when Jack was sure that everything was in readiness for theWhirlwindto be towed after the big six-cylinder machine, he jumped into hisGet-There, and presently the whole party was off again, going toward Lenox.
It was a wonderful relief—every one felt it—to be moving away from dread and darkness.
"I always come up by night from New York," said Mr. Rand. "The roads are clear, and it saves time. Besides, to-morrow is Betty's birthday, and I have to be home."
"Yes," said Cora politely. "We had no idea of traveling alone like this, but our chaperon——"
"Well, you've got one now," interrupted the man nicely, noticing Cora's embarrassment. "I often do it for Betty—she's only got me."
There was a catch in his voice this time, and while the three girls instantly felt that "the bars were down again," and that they really did have a chaperon in the person of this delightful gentleman, still it would have seemed rude to break the effect of his last remark.
"We are getting her up, all right," he said, referring to towing theWhirlwind. "Never saw the like of Benson."
"Isn't it splendid?" exclaimed Cora, looking back into the darkness and thus discerning the lamps of her car following. "It is a dreadful thing to be stalled."
"Can't be beat," agreed Mr. Rand. "We get it once in a while, thoughBenson is a wonder—knows when to stop without getting a blow-out."
"That's what we had," said Cora, "a blow-out."
"Girls speeding!" and he slapped his knees in good nature. "Now, Betty thinks she can't go unless the engine stutters, as she calls it. I declare, girls are worse than men these days! Speeding!"
Cora tried to tell something of the circumstances responsible for her speed, but he would take no excuse—it was ordinary speed, just like Betty's, he declared.
"And you lost your chaperon?" He said this with a delightful chuckle, evidently relishing the circumstances that threw the interesting young party into his company.
"Yes," spoke Belle, "there was a fire at the hotel, and she was a doctor. Of course, we didn't count when there were men to be bandaged up."
"A fire!" repeated Mr. Rand. "At a hotel! The Restover, I'm sure.Why, that is my hotel. I mean I am one of the owners, and on my way upI met the woman doctor. So she was your chaperon! Well, I declare!Now, that's what I call a coincidence. That young woman—let me see.She was nursing the head waiter. Ha, ha! a good fellow to nurse.Always keep in with the head waiter."
"Oh, he was that good-looking fellow, Cora," said Hazel. "Don't you remember how he soared around?"
"A bird, eh?" and Mr. Rand laughed again. "Well, say," and his voice went down into the intimate key, "I wouldn't be surprised if your chaperon gave up her business. I heard some remarks about how very devoted she was to that head waiter."
"Oh, Miss Robbins would never marry a waiter!" declared Belle. "Why, she's a practicing physician!"
"But sometimes the practice is hard and uncertain," Mr. Rand reminded them. "I shouldn't be surprised when I go back there to straighten up accounts to find the doctor and the waiter 'doing nicely.'"
"But how is the man we—that is—who went to the hospital?" asked Cora eagerly. "He was very badly hurt."
"Oh, Jim, wasn't it? Why, he is getting along! By crackie!" and he slapped his knee again, "I have it! It was you who took Jim to the hospital! Now, I see! A motor girl with black hair and a maroon machine! Now, I have, more than ever, reason to be your friend, Miss Kimball. Jim has been with me for years, and had he died as the result of an accident at Restover—well, I shouldn't have gotten over it easily."
"But some one had to take him," said Cora modestly.
"Oh, I know all about that. That's like your excuse for speeding, and it's like Betty again. Wait until she hears that you saved Jim."
"One would never know we were towing a car," intervened Hazel. "We sail along so beautifully."
"But you babies have been awake all night," said Mr. Rand suddenly. "Now, couldn't you just tuck in somehow and sleep a wink or two? You won't get a chance when you see Betty. She's a regular phonograph—friendship's her key."
"I am sleepy," confessed Cora.
"I'm tired," admitted Belle.
"And I'm dead," declared Hazel.
"Then it's settled. You are each to go to sleep instantly, and if those fellows blow that horn again, I won't let them in to Betty's party," and Mr. Rand, in his wonderful, fatherly way, seemed to tuck each girl into a perfectly comfortable bed. "Now sleep! No more——"
"Gypsies!" groaned Cora, but although he said not a word in reply, he knew perfectly well just what she meant.
It was at Betty's party. And as Mr. Rand had told our friends, Betty was a wonderful girl—for being happy and making others happy.
Now, here it was less than a year from the time of her dear mother's death, and on her own birthday, of course, she would not have a party, but when Daddy came in with his arms full of company and bundles, as Betty put it, of course she turned right in and had an impromptu party—just to make Daddy happy.
It was an easy matter to gather in a few of the nearby cottagers, of whom there were many very pleasant samples, and so, when the evening following the midnight tow arrived, the party from Chelton found themselves rested and ready for the festivities. As usual, Walter was devoted to Betty. Jack liked her, Ed admired her, but Walter claimed her—that was his way. She was a pretty girl of rather an unusual type, accounted for, her father declared, by the fact that her mother was an Irish beauty, and gave to Betty that wonderful golden-red hair, the hazel eyes and the indescribable complexion that is said to come from generations of buttermilk.
And withal she was such a little flirt! How she did cling to Walter, make eyes at Ed and defy Jack, giving to each the peculiar attention that his special case most needed.
Belle and Bess found it necessary to take up with some very pleasant chaps from a nearby hotel, while Cora and Hazel made themselves agreeable with two friends of Mr. Rand's—boys from New York, who had many mutual acquaintances with Chelton folks and, therefore, could talk of other things than gears and gasoline.
Mr. Rand was on the side porch, and when the drawing-room conversation waited for the next remark, his voice might be heard in a very animated discussion. Cora sat near a French window, and she heard:
"But the hat! How did his particular hat get there?"
The answer of his friend was not audible.
"I tell you," went on the gentleman, "this thing has got to be watched.I don't like it!"
"Oh, Coral" chirped Belle. "Do sing the 'Gypsy's Warning.' We haven't heard it since the night——"
"Walter fished up a chaperon," added Jack, with a laugh.
"The 'Gypsy's Warning'!" repeated Betty.
"It's a very old song," explained Cora, "but we had to revive something, so we revived——"
"The gyp," finished Ed, getting up and fetching Cora's guitar from the tete in the corner. "Do sing it, Cora. This is such a gypsy land out here."
"Are there?" asked Bess, in sudden alarm.
"Thereare," said Ed mockingly. "There are gypsy land out here!"
"Oh, you know perfectly well what I meant," and Bess pursed her lips prettily.
"Course I do; if I didn't—land help me—I would need a map and a horoscope in my pocket every single minute."
"Come on, Cora, sing," pleaded Hazel. "Let them hear about ourWarning."
"I'm afraid it's too late," objected Cora with a sly look at Betty andWalter. "We should have sent the warning on ahead of us."
She stood up to take the instrument from Ed's hands. She was near theFrench window again.
"I tell you," she heard Mr. Rand say, "these gypsy fellows will stoop to anything. And as for revenge—they say once a gypsy always a gypsy. Which means they will stick by each other——"
"Come on, Cora. We want the song. I remember my mother used to sing the 'Gypsy's Warning,' and she brought it right down to date—we never went near a camp," said Walter.
The threat of the old gypsy woman rang in Cora's ears. She could see her raise that brown finger and hear her say: "If you harm Salvo, harm shall be upon your head." Cora had testified against Salvo. A hat known to belong to a member of the tribe was later found at midnight under Cora's car, miles from the town where the robbery had been committed. Were they following her?
"Oh, really, I can't sing to-night," she protested rather lamely. "I have a cold."
The voices on the porch had ceased. Betty was claiming her father for some game. The evening had not been a great success.
"And to-morrow," faltered Walter, "we pass on. I wish we had decidedto stay in the Berkshires, but of course the girls must make the WhiteMountains," and he fell back in his chair as if overwhelmed. "I fancyBess is ambitious to climb Mount Washington."
"I possibly could—as well as the others," and Bess flushed at the mention of anything in the flesh-reducing line. "I have always been a pretty fair climber."
"Yes, that's right," called Jack. "I remember one time Bess climbed in the window at school. A lemon pie had been locked up inadvertently."
"But you ought to see more of Lenox," spoke Betty. "I do wish you would stay—for a few days at least."
"So do I," said Walter with flagrant honesty.
"But the season wanes," remarked Cora, "and we must keep to our itinerary. Now that my machine has been overhauled I anticipate a royal run. Betty, can't you come with us? Mr. Rand says you have been here all summer——"
"And too much is enough," declared the ensnared Walter. "Betty, if you would come we might mount Mount Washington."
"What do you say, papa?"
"Why, go, of course; it would be the very thing for you. And then, don't you see, I shouldn't have to give up my job as chaperon," and he clapped his hands on his knees and chuckled with a relish that all enjoyed.
Mr. Rand decided that he would go and take his gorgeous car, and the pretty, bright little Irish Betty! Why, it would be like starting all over again!
Hazel was fingering Cora's guitar. The chords of the "Gypsy's Warning" just floated through the room. Walter hummed, Jack almost whistled, Ed looked the part, but Cora!
Cora, brave, beautiful and capable—Cora jumped up and seemed to find some flowers in the vases absolutely absorbing. Cora did not take any part in rendering even the subdued "Gypsy's Warning."
"But it is lonely, and I think we had best keep close together."
"But I want to——"
"Show Betty how beautiful it is to be lonely. Wallie Pennington, you are breaking your contract. No one was to get——"
"Personal. Oh, all right—take Betty," and Walter emitted a most unmusical brawl. "Of course, you and Ed are keeping the contract. You are doing as you please. Behold Ed now, carrying Cora over a pebble——"
"That's because Ed lovesme," declared Jack, "and he is saving Cora's boots."
"All the same, I simply won't carry Bess. She might melt in my arms."
The young men were exploring the woods in the White Mountains. The girls were racing about in absolute delight over the ferns, while Mr. Rand, who had actually taken the "jaunt" from the hotel afoot, sat on a huge stone comparing notes with his muscles, and with the inactive years of discretion and indiscretion.
"They're like a lot of young animals," he was saying to any one near enough to hear, "and I—I am like something that really ought to know better."
"Just suppose," said Jack to Ed, "that a young deer should spring out just there where Belle and Hazel are sitting. What do you think would be the act?"
"Hazel would try to catch the deer, and Belle would go up a tree. Give me something harder."
"Well, then, suppose a tramp should come along the path and ask Betty for the thing that hangs around her neck. What would happen then?"
"Walter would get mixed up with his trampship. That, too, is easy."
"Cora says we have got to get back to earth in time for the Chelton fair. Now, I never thought that Cora cared about that sort of thing," Walter remarked.
"But it's the home town, and Cora knows her name is on some committee," replied Ed. "I guess we will get enough of these wilds in a week. At any rate, all Cora does care for is the car—she would rather motor than eat."
Betty had taken some wild berries to her father. "I say, sis," he pleaded, "can't we get back? I am stiffening, and you may all have to get together and carry me."
"Are you so tired? Poor dad! I didn't think the walk was too much. But you do feel it!" and she sat down on a soft clump of grass at his feet. "Well, as soon as the girls get their ferns and things they want to take home for specimens, we will start back. If you really are tired, we could get a carriage at the foot of the hill."
"And have you youngsters laugh at me! Never! I would die walking first," and Mr. Rand stretched himself to show how near death he really was. "Now, I tell you, we will all take the bus back. That would be more like it."
This suggestion was rapidly spread among the woodland party, and when the girls did finally consent to desert the growing things and leave a "speck of something for the rabbits to eat," as Jack put it, the start for the hotel was made.
At the foot of the hill, or the opening of the mountain path, an old woman, a gypsy, stood with the inevitable basket on her arm.
"Tell your fortune, lady? Tell you the truth," she called, and actually put her hand out to stop Cora as she was passing. "Tell it for a quarter."
"Take a basketful," suggested Ed, sotto voce. "I would like to know what's going to become of Wallie when we get back to Chelton."
As usual, Walter was helping Betty, who, with her light laugh and equally light step, was making her way over the last stones of the wood way.
"Tell your fortune——"
"Oh, no," called back Mr. Rand, who had stopped to see what was delaying the party. "We don't need to be told. Here woman," and he threw back a coin, "take this and buy a—new shawl."
All this time the woman was standing directly in Cora's way. The path was very narrow, and on either side was close brushwood. Cora stepped in the bushes in order to get out to the road, and as she did she stumbled and fell.
In an instant Ed had caught her up, but not before the old woman had peered deep into Cora's face, had actually moved her scarf as if looking for some mark of recognition.
"I'll help her up," the woman exclaimed, when she saw that Ed was angry enough to thrust her to the edge of the pathway. "I see a fine fortune in her eyes. They are black, her hair is black, and she has the appearance of the girl who runs an automobile. Oh, yes, I remember!" and she now turned away satisfied. "These girls ride much. But she—she is their leader!"
"Oh, come," whispered Belle. "I am so frightened. That is one of the gypsies from the beach camp."
Cora had regained her feet, and with a bruised hand was now passing along with the others.
"We might have had a couple of quarts of fortune out of that basket just as well as not," insisted Jack. "I never saw anything so handy."
"Oh, those gypsies are a pest," declared Mr. Rand. "But I am just superstitious enough not to want to offend any of them. I claim to be a first-class chaperon—first-class!"
"Are you hurt, Cora?" asked Bess, seeing that Cora was pressing her hand to her lips.
"Only scratched from the brush," and she winced. "Those berry bushes seem to have a grudge against me."
"But the old Gypsy?" asked Bess, as the two girls stood close together.
"Oh, I didn't mind her rant," replied Cora. "They always have something wonderful to tell one."
"I wish they would not cross our path so often," went on the other girl. "Seems to me they have been the one drawback of our entire trip."
"Let us hope that they will now be satisfied," said Cora with that indefinite manner which so often conveys a stronger meaning than might have been intended.
Both girls sighed. Then they joined the others, while the old gypsy woman looked after them sharply.
Ed was hailing the driver of the bus—"Silent Bill," they called him, because he was never known to keep still, not even at his grandmother's funeral. Silent Bill lost no time in getting his horses headed right, also in starting out to describe the wonders and beauties of the White Mountains.
It was fun to take the bus ride, and no one was more pleased at the prospect than was Mr. Rand.
"Nothing like sitting down square," he declared. "Why young folks always want to walk themselves into the grave is more than I pretend to understand."
"My, but that old gypsy woman did frighten me," said Belle to Hazel. "I never saw such a look as she gave Cora! I honestly thought she was going to drop. Maybe she——"
"Blew powder into her eyes. The same thought came to me," replied Hazel. "Well, I hope we won't see any more gypsies until we get within police precincts. We have had enough of them here."
Then Silent Bill called out something about how the air in those peaks would make a dead man well. "Look at them peaks!" he insisted. "That's what fetches folks up here every summer."
"They fetched me down," remarked Mr. Rand, "but then I never did care for peaks."
"Now, Mr. Rand," corrected Cora, "didn't you take a peek into my auto the night it broke down? Seems to me there are peeks and peaks——"
Amid laughter they rode along, enjoying the splendid scenery and bracing air, but the gypsy's face was haunting Cora.
That evening there was to be a hop at the hotel. As many of the patrons were soon leaving for home, it was expected that the affair would be entered into with all the energy that could be summoned from the last of the season. There would not be another big affair until the next summer, so all must "make hay" while the lights held out.
Our friends had some trouble in finding just the correct wearing things in the small auto trunks, but pretty girls can so safely depend upon youth and good manners that simple frocks were pressed literally and physically for the occasion, whereas many of the all-season guests at the Tip-Top were not so self-reliant. Motor-made complexions, and the eyes that go with that peculiar form of beauty, formed a combination beyond dispute.
Cora wore her pale yellow poplin, Betty was in all white, of course; Bess looked like an apple blossom in something pinkish, and Belle was the evening star in her dainty blue. Hazel "had on" a light green affair. We say "had on," for that's the way Hazel had of wearing things—she hated the bother of fixing up.
The young men were not expected to have evening "togs" in their runabout traps, but they did have some really good-looking, fresh, summer flannels that made them appear just as well dressed and much better looking than some of the "swells" in their regular dress suits.
"What a wonderful time!" exclaimed Betty. "I never thought we could have such a jolly good time at a regular hotel affair."
"Why?" asked Hazel, wondering.
"Because there are so many kinds of people that——"
"We are all chorus, and no spot light?" interrupted Walter mischievously. "But we might put you up on the window sill."
"Indeed!" and the little lady flounced off. "Now you may fill in that girl's card over there—the red-headed one. She has been looking at you most all evening, and I have promised at least four dances."
Walter looked as if he would fall at Betty's feet if there had been sufficient room.
"Betty! Betty!" he begged. "If you do not give me the 'Yale' I shall leave the ballroom instanter."
"Oh, if you really want it," agreed Betty, and off they went.
Bess was soon "puffed out" with the vigorous dance. She was with Jack.
"Let's sit it out," she suggested. "I seem to be all out of breath."
"Certainly," agreed Jack. "But couldn't I get some for you, or send you some?"
"Some what?"
"Breath, wasn't that what you wanted? Here is a splendid place for a breathing spell."
Bess laughed and sat down with her partner.
"There are all sorts of ways to dance," she remarked as the "red-headed" girl, who had eyes for Walter, stepped on her toes in passing.
"Those girls from the Breakwater seem to have spite against us," remarked Jack. "That is the second time they have stepped on our toes."
"And she is no featherweight," answered Bess, frowning.
"Strange thing that good clothes cannot cover bad manners," went on Jack, who was plainly annoyed. "Let us take the other bench. She can't possibly reach us in the alcove."
Cora was just gliding by.
"Lazy," she called lightly. "You are missing the best dance."
"I'm tired," replied Bess. "Besides we want to watch you."
At this Ed, who was Cora's partner, gave a wonderful swirl to show just how beautifully he and Cora could do the "Yale Rush."
"Cora issucha good dancer," Bess whispered to Jack, "but then Cora is good at most everything." There was no sarcasm in her tone.
"Oh yes, for a little sister she is all right," agreed the young man."She might be worse."
"Oh," exclaimed Bess suddenly. "I saw such a face at that window!"
"Plenty of faces around here to-night," observed Jack lightly.
"But that—oh! let us go away from here. I am nervous!"
"Certainly," and Jack took her arm. "Now if that were Belle," he proceeded calmly, and then paused.
Bess was actually trembling when they crossed to the stairway, but she soon recovered her composure.
She said nothing more about the face she had seen peering through the window and tried to forget it, as the dance went on.
After the "Paul Jones," a feature of the Tip-Top affairs, had been danced, every one wanted to cool off or down, according to the temperature desired. Cora was with Ed. They had drifted out on a side porch. Without any preamble one of the waiters touched Ed on the arm and told him there was a message for him waiting in the office.
"How do you know it's for me?" asked Ed, astonished.
"You are with the motor girls, aren't you?" replied the man, as if that were an explanation.
"I'll take you back to the others," said Ed to Cora. "I may as well see what it is."
"Oh, run along. It may be something urgent," suggested Cora. "I can slip back into the dance room when I want to, or I can wait here. You won't be long."
Ed followed the waiter indoors, then went into the office as he directed. He was not absent more than ten minutes, but when he returned to the porch Cora was gone!
"I left her here ten minutes ago!" gasped Ed, trembling with excitement, as he related the news.
"She must have gone inside," replied Jack, equally alarmed. "We must look before we tell the others."
"No, give the alarm first, and look afterward," insisted Ed. "The thing that counts is to find her; people's nerves may rest afterwards. I think we had best call the hotel manager. That message sent me was a fake. It was an envelope addressed to me, and contained nothing but a blank paper. It was a game to get me away from Cora!"
"Perhaps you are right. But I do hate to alarm every one. I know that Cora would feel that way herself. What's this?" and Jack stooped to the porch floor. "Her fan!"
Ed almost snatched the trinket from Jack's hand. "The chain is broken," he said, "and she had it on when I left her. I remember how she dropped the fan to her side and it hung there."
Here was a new proof of something very wrong—the chain was broken in two places.
"Don't let us waste a moment," begged Ed, starting for the hotel office. "I will speak with the manager first."
Jack felt as if something was gripping at his heart. Cora gone! Could it be possible that anything had really happened to her? Could she have been kidnapped? No, she must be somewhere with some of the girls.
He followed Ed mechanically into the office. The manager was at the desk looking over the register.
"A young lady has just disappeared from the west-end porch," began Ed, rather awkwardly, "and I fear that something strange has happened to her. I was called in here by this fake message"—he produced a slip of blank paper—"and while I was in here she disappeared."
"No one else gone?" asked the manager with a questioning smile.
"Why, no," replied Ed indignantly. "I was with Miss Kimball almost up to the moment she disappeared."
Jack stepped forward. "I know that my sister would not give us one moment's anxiety were it in her power to avoid it," he said. "She is the most thoughtful girl in the world."
The manager was looking at the envelope Ed held. "Who did you say told you about this?" he asked of Ed.
"A waiter."
"Just come along with me, and we will see the waiters and kitchen men before we disturb the guests," said the manager.
They passed through the halls, where knots of the guests were strolling about passing the time between the dances—all apparently happy and contented. But Jack and Ed! What would be the outcome of their anxiety?
"This way," said the hotel proprietor. "Let me see, you are——" he paused suggestively.
"My name is Foster, and this is Mr. Kimball," said Ed.
In the kitchen they found everything in confusion. The chef had lined up every man in the department, and he was questioning them.
"What's this?" asked Mr. Blake, the proprietor.
"Some one has been in here, or some one here has made away with a lot of the silver and with money from the men's pockets," replied the chef indignantly. "We have got to find out who is the culprit. I won't stand for that sort of thing."
"Certainly not," Mr. Blake assured him, "but perhaps we can help you. Mr. Foster, will you kindly pick out the man who told you about that message?"
The men stood up. Ed scrutinized each carefully.
"None of these," he said finally.
"Are you sure every one is here, Max?" asked Mr. Blake.
"Every one, sir; even the last man I hired, who has never had an apron on yet."
"Could it be any one from the outside?" faltered Jack.
"No one could get in here and manage to make his way through——"
"Excuse me, sir," said a very blond young waiter, "but I think a stranger has been in here. My locker was broken open and my apron—one of the best—is gone."
"Is that so?" spoke Mr. Blake sharply. "Then we have no time to spare.The young lady——"
"Oh, don't say it," cried Jack. "Cora kidnapped!"
"Jack, old boy, be brave," whispered Ed, patting him on the shoulder."Wherever Cora is, the gods are with her!"
"We must first institute a thorough search," declared Mr. Blake. "You men form an outside posse. Be quick. Search every inch of the grounds. Max, no more kitchen duty to-night. Here, Ben, you ring the hall bell. That will bring the porters together. Then, Dave"—to a handsome young Englishman—"I put you in charge. That young lady must be found tonight."
Ed and Jack exchanged glances. Would she really be found? Oh, how terrible it all seemed!
"I must speak with Mr. Rand," said Jack. "Ed, you tell the girls."
All that had been gayety and gladness was instantly turned into consternation and confusion. A young lady lured away from the Tip-Top! And the hotel crowded with guests!
Belle was obliged to call for a doctor. Nor was it any case of imagined nerves. The excitement of the big ball had been enough, the disappearance of Cora was more than her weak heart could stand. Bess tried to be brave, but to lose Cora! Then she recalled the face at the window.
Hazel and Betty waited for nothing, but took up a lantern and started out to search. If she had fallen down some place! Oh, if they could only make her hear them!
"Here, porter," called Mr. Rand, when he had heard all the details that could be given, "get me a donkey—a good, lively donkey. I can manage one of the little beasts better than I can a horse. I used to ride one in Egypt. I'll go over the hills if it is midnight."
"Oh, don't, Mr. Rand," begged Jack. "You are not strong enough to go over the mountains that way."
"I am not, eh! Well, young man, I'll show you!" and he was already waiting for the donkey to be brought up from the hotel stables. "Nothing like a good donkey for a thing that has to be done."
But it was such a wild wilderness—the sort chosen just on that account for hotel purposes. And after the brilliancy of the ballroom it did seem so very dark out of doors.
"This way, Hazel," said Betty courageously. "I know the loneliest spot. Maybe she has been stolen, and might be hidden away in that hollow."
"But if we go there alone——"
"I'm not afraid," and Betty clutched her light stick. "If I found her, they would hear me scream all the way to—Portland!"
Men were searching all over the grounds. Every possible sort of outdoor lantern had been pressed into service, and the glare of searchlights flickered from place to place like big fireflies.
It was terrible—everything dreadful was being imagined. Only Ed, Walter and Jack tried to see a possibility of some mistake—of some reasonable explanation.
It was exciting at first, that strange, dark hunt, but it soon became dreary, dull and desolate.
Hazel and Betty gave up to have a good cry. Jack and Ed insisted upon following Mr. Rand on horses, making their way over the mountain roads and continually calling Cora.
Walter followed the advice of the hotel proprietor, and went to notify the drivers of a stage line, which took passengers on at the Point.
But how suddenly all had been thrown into a panic of fear at the loss of Cora! Not a girl to play pranks, in spite of some whispers about the hotel, those most concerned knew that Cora Kimball was at least being held a prisoner against her will somewhere; by whom, or with whom, no one could conjecture.
What really had become of daring, dashing Cora Kimball?
"Oh! Where am I?"
"Hush! You are safe! But keep very quiet."
Then Cora forgot—something smelled so strong, and she felt so sleepy.
"We are almost there!"
"But see the lights!"
"They will never turn into the gully!"
"If they do——"
"I'll——"
"Hush!"
"She is a strong girl!"
"So much the better. Give her a drink."
"I don't like it."
"You don't have to."
"Do you know what they do now with kidnappers?"
"She's no kid."
"But it's just the same."
"Hold your tongue. You have given me more bother than she has."
"Salvo deserved what he got."
"You deserve something, too," and the older woman, speaking to a young girl, gave the latter a blow with a whip. The girl winced, and showed her white teeth. She would some day break away from Mother Hull.
They were riding in a gypsy wagon through the mountains, and it was one hour after Cora Kimball had been taken away from the porch of the Tip-Top. The drivers of the wagon were the most desperate members of the North Woods gypsy clan, and they had not the slightest fear that the searchers, who were actually almost flashing their lights in to the very wagon that bore Cora away, could ever discover her whereabouts.
It was close and ill-smelling in that van. Cora was not altogether unconscious, and she turned uneasily on the bundle of straw deep in the bottom of the big wagon.
"She is waking," said the girl presently.
"She can now, if she's a mind to. We are in Dusky Hollow."
"I won't be around when she does awake. I don't like it."
"If you say any more, I'll give you a dose. Maybe you—want—to go—to sleep."
"When I want to I shall," and the black eyes flashed in the darkness."We did not promise to——"
"Shut up!" and again that whip rang like the whisper of some frightened tree.
"Oh, stop!" yelled the girl, "or I shall——"
"Oh, no, you—won't. You just hold—your tongue."
The horses shied, and the wagon skidded. Were they held up?
"Right there, Sam," ordered the driver. "Easy—steady, Ned. Pull over here."
The wagons moved forward again, and the women felt that the possible danger of discovery had passed.
"Keep quiet in there," called a rough voice from the seat. "These woods are thick with trailers."
For some time no one within the van spoke. Then Cora turned, and the woman wearing the thick hood clapped something over Cora's nose.
"Oh, don't! She has had enough. Let her at least live," begged the younger woman, actually fanning Cora's white face with her own soiled handkerchief.
The night seemed blacker and darker at each turn. Shouts from the searchers occasionally reached the ears of those within the wagon, and once Mr. Rand on his donkey might have seen them but for the trickery of the driver, who pulled his horses into some shadowy bushes and waited for the searchers to pass.
The young gypsy woman peered down into Cora's face.
"She's pretty," she said, with some sympathy.
"Well, by the time she's out perhaps she won't be so pretty," sneered the older woman. "I swore revenge for Salvo, and I'll have it."
"Oh, you and Salvo! Seems to me a man ought to be able——"
"You cat! Do you want to go back to the cave?"
The girl was silent again.
"Where—am I? Jack! Jack!" Cora moaned.
"Here! Don't you dare give her another drop of that stuff, orI'll—squeal!"
The old woman stopped, and in the darkness of the wagon Mother Hull felt, rather than saw, that the younger one would do as she threatened. She might shout! Then those searching the woods would hear.
"We will soon be there. Then she may call for Jack until her throat is sore!" muttered the hag.
Cora tossed on her bed of straw. The chloroform kept her quiet, but she knew and felt that she was being borne away somewhere into that dark and lonely night. She could remember now how Ed had gone inside the hotel, and he had not come back! He would be back presently, and yes, she would try to sleep until he returned!
She moaned and tried to call, but her voice was like that strange struggle of sound that comes in nightmare. It means nothing except to the sleeper.
"She's choking," said the gypsy girl.
"Let her," replied Mother Hull. "We can dump her easily here."
"You—hag!" almost screamed the girl. "I will shout if you don't give her air."
"Here! here!" called a voice from the seat. "If you two can't keep quiet, you know what we can do!"
"She's choking!" insisted the girl.
"Let her!" mocked the man.
"I—won't. Help! Help!" yelled the girl, and as she did the light of a powerful automobile lamp was directed into the gypsy wagon!
"There they are!" could be heard plainly.
"Where?" asked the anxious ones.
"In the gulch! Head them off! I saw a wagon!"
Quicker than any one save a mountaineer knew how to swing around, that wagon swerved, turned and was again lost in the darkness.
"Thought they had us!" called the man from the seat. "Lena, you will pay for this!"
Cora opened her eyes. Standing over her was a woman—or was it a dream? A woman with flowing hair, beautiful, dark eyes, a band of gold like a crown about her head, and shimmering, dazzling stuff on her gown. Was Cora really awake?
"Well," said the figure, "you are not bad-looking."
"Oh, I am so—sick," moaned Cora.
"I'll ring for something. Would you take wine?"
"No, thank you; water," murmured Cora.
The moments were becoming more real to Cora, but with consciousness came that awful sickness and that dizziness. She looked at the woman in the flowing red robes. Who could she be? Surely she was beautiful, and her face was kind and her manner sweet.
The woman pulled a small cord, and presently a girl appeared to answer.
"What, madam?" asked the girl.
"Some limewater and some milk. And for me, some new cigarettes. Those Sam brought I could not use. You will find my key in my dressing table."
She turned to Cora as the girl left. "You may have anything you want," she said, "and you need not worry. No harm will come to you. I rather think we shall be great friends."
She sat down on some soft cushions on the floor.
Then Cora noticed that her own resting place was also on the floor—a sort of flat couch—soft, but smelling so strongly of some strange odor. Was it smoke or perfume?
"Do you mind if I smoke?" asked the woman. "I am Helka, the gypsy queen. That is, they call me that, although I am really Lillian, and I never had any fancy for this queening." She smiled bitterly. The girl entered again with a tray and a small silver case. "The water is for my friend," said the queen, and the girl walked over to Cora. "Do you think you are strong enough to take milk? Perhaps you would like lime in it."
"Thank you very much," murmured Cora, "but I am very sick, and I have never been ill before."
"It is the chloroform. It is sickish stuff, and Sam said you had to have a big dose."
"Chloroform!"
"Yes, don't you know? Don't you remember anything?"
"Yes, I was on the hotel porch with Ed."
"With Ed? I wish they had kidnapped Ed, although you are very nice, and when I heard them putting you in the dark room, where we put the bad gypsy girls, I insisted upon them bringing you right here. I had some trouble, Sam is a rough one, but I conquered. And let me tell you something." She stooped very low and whispered, "Trust me! Don't ask any questions when the girls are around. You may have everything but freedom!"
"Am I a prisoner?"
"Don't you remember the gypsy's warning? Didn't Mother Hull warn you not to go against Salvo?"
"The robber?"
"Hush! They are listening at that door, and I want you to stay with me. Are you very tired?" She was lighting a cigarette. "I would play something for you. Do you like music?"
"Sometimes," said Cora, "but I am afraid I am going to cry——"
"That's the reason I want to make some noise. They won't come in here, and they won't know you are crying. We must make them think you like it here."
Cora turned and buried her face in the cushions. She realized that she had been abducted, and was being held a prisoner in this strange place. But she must—she felt she must—do as the woman told her. Just a few tears from sheer nervousness, then she would be brave.
"Don't you ever smoke?" asked the queen. "I should die or run the risk of the dogs except for my cigarettes."
"The risk——"
"Hush! Yes, they have dreadful dogs. I, too, am," she whispered, "a prisoner. I will tell you about it later."
She picked up an instrument and fingered it. It seemed like the harp, but it was not much larger than a guitar. The chords were very sweet, very deep and melodious. She was a skilled musician; even in her distress Cora could not fail to notice that.
"I haven't any new music," said the queen. "They promised to fetch me some, but this trouble has kept the whole band busy. Now, how do you like this?" She swept her white fingers over the strings like some fairy playing with a wind-harp. "That is my favorite composition."
"Do you compose?"
"Oh, yes, it gives me something to do, and I never could endure painting or sewing, so I work out pretty tunes and put them on paper. Sometimes they send them to the printers for me."
"Do you never leave here? Am I in America?" asked Cora.
"Bless you, yes, you are in America; but no, to the other question. I have never left this house or the grounds since I came to America."
"From——"
"England. You see, I am not a noble gypsy, for I live in a house and have sat on chairs, although they don't like it. This house is an old mansion in the White Mountains."
"It is your home?" asked Cora timidly.
"It ought to be. They bought it with my mother's money."
Cora sipped the water, then, feeling weak, she took a mouthful of the milk. Every moment she was becoming stronger. Every moment the strange scene around her was exciting her interest more fully.
"What time is it?" she asked wearily.
"Have you no idea?"
"Is it morning?"
"Almost."
"And you are not in bed?"
"Oh, I sleep when I feel like it. You see, I have nothing else to do."
Cora wondered. Nothing to do?
"Besides, we were waiting up for you, and I could not go to sleep until you came."
"You expected me?"
"For days. We knew you were in the mountains."
"How?" asked Cora.
"Because one of our men followed you. He said you almost caught him."
Cora vaguely remembered the man under the auto when they had been stalled in the hills. That must have been the fellow.
"My friends," stammered Cora, "my brother will be ill of fright, and my mother——"
"Now, my dear," said the queen, "if you will only trust me, I shall do all I can for you. I might even get word to your brother. I love brothers. Once I had one."
"Is he dead?" asked Cora kindly.
"I do not know. You see, I was once a very silly girl. Would you believe it? I am twenty-five years old!"
"I thought you young, but that is not old."
"Ages. But some day—who can tell what you and I may do?"
In making this remark she mumbled and hissed so that no one, whose eyes were not upon her at the moment she spoke, could have understood her.
Cora took courage. Perhaps she could help this strange creature.Perhaps, after all, the imprisonment might lead to something of benefit.
"I could sleep, if you would like to," said Cora, for her eyes were strangely heavy and her head ached.
"When I finish my cigarette. You see, I am quite dissipated."
She was the picture of luxurious ease—not of dissipation—and as Cora looked at her she was reminded of those highly colored pictures of Cleopatra.
It was, indeed, a strange imprisonment, but Cora was passing through a strange experience. Who could tell what would be the end of it all?
Cora's heart was beating wildly. She could not sleep, although her eyes were so heavy, and her head ached fiercely. The reaction from that powerful drug was setting in, and with that condition came all the protests of an outraged nature. She tossed on her couch. The gypsy queen heard her.
"What is it?" she asked. "Can you not sleep?"
"I don't know," Cora stammered in reply. "I wonder why they took me?"
"You were to appear against Salvo at his trial, I understood. It was necessary to stop you. Perhaps that is one reason," said the gypsy. "But try to sleep."
For some moments there was silence, and Cora dozed off. Suddenly she awoke with a wild start.
"Oh!" she screamed. "Let me go! Jack! Jack!"
"Hush!" whispered the gypsy. "It would not be safe for them to hear you." She pressed her hand to the forehead of the delirious girl. "You must have had a nightmare."
Cora sighed. Then it was not a dream, it was real! She was still a captive.
"Oh, I cannot help it," she sobbed. "If only I could die!" Then she stopped and touched the gentle hand that was stroking her brow. "You must not mind what I say to-night. It has all been so terrible," she finished.
"But I like you, and will be your friend," assured the voice as the other leaned so closely toward her. "Yet, I cannot blame you for suffering. It is only natural. Let me give you some mineral water. That may soothe your nerves."
The light was turned higher, and the form in the white robe flitted over to a cabinet. Cora could see that this gypsy wore a thin, silky robe. It was as white as snow, and in it the young woman looked some living statue.
"I am giving you a great deal of trouble," Cora murmured. "I hope I will be able to repay you some day."
"Oh, as for that, I am glad to have something to do. I have always read of the glory of nursing. Now I may try it. I am very vain and selfish. All I do I do for my own glory. If you are better, and I have made you so, I will be quite satisfied."
She poured the liquid into a glass, and handed it to the sick girl.
"Thank you," whispered Cora. "Now I will sleep. I was only dreaming when I called out."
"They say I have clairvoyant power. I shall put you to sleep."
The gypsy sat down beside Cora. Without touching her face she was passing her hands before Cora's eyes. The latter wondered if this might not be unsafe. Suppose the gypsy should hypnotize her into sleep and that she might not be able to awaken? Yet the sensation was so soothing! Cora thought, then stopped thinking. Sleep was coming almost as it had come when the man seized her.
Drowsy, delightfully drowsy! Then sleep!