"A deliberate trick of Cecilia's," murmured Daisy.
"She pretends to be so off-hand," answered Maud. "I have always noticed that that sort of girl is the greatest schemer."
"To leave her car out on the road, and then boldly ask Jack Kimball to go with her to fetch it. Who ever heard of such a thing? I wonder Cora tolerates her."
"Cora is what some people call 'easy,'" said Daisy with uncertain meaning. "She takes her chances in choosing friends."
"Did they fetch the car back?"
"I saw it at the garage this morning. I do hope it cannot be fixed. I mean," Maud hurried to say, "I hope she will not hamper us with it on our tour. It is only fit for the junkman."
Daisy and Maud were walking toward the post office. It was the morning after the adventure on the road, and the two girls had heard from Ray Stuart something of the news they were now discussing. The hold-up of Paul Hastings was to them not so important as the fact that Cecilia Thayer had gone over to Kimball's and actually asked Jack Kimball to take her out Woodbine way to tow home the balky Turtle.
But, precisely as her friend had said, Clip was a schemer. In the first place, she had no idea of detaining her companions on the lonely road to "monkey with the machine," so soon after Paul's hold-up. Next, she had no idea of leaving the car there at the mercy of fate. Instead, she deliberately went over to Kimball's after dinner, asked Jack to take her out Woodbine way, and incidentally suggested that he take along a gun. Jack had two good friends, each opposite the other in type. Bess Robinson was very much admired by him; and Cecilia Thayer, she who always played the tomboy to the extent of affording a good time for others when she could actually disguise a serious reason in the joke, she who affected the "strained" nurse costume for fun, when it was a real necessity—Jack Kimball liked Cecilia Thayer. Her rather limited means often forced her to make sport of circumstances, but, in every case, Cecilia "won out." She was, the boys said, "no knocker."
So it happened as Daisy related. Clip did ask Jack to go with her to fetch home the car. It also happened that they encountered Sid Wilcox on the way. He seemed to be returning alone in his auto from Cartown. Sid told Ida, Ida told Ray, Ray told Daisy and Daisy told Maud.
Daisy and Maud were inseparable chums. They agreed on everything—fromadmiration for Jack Kimball and Walter Pennington, to dislike forCecilia Thayer, and something akin to jealousy for the Robinson girls.Cora was beyond criticism—they simply "regarded her."
"And," spoke Daisy, as they turned into the green, "I do believe that the boys played that trick on Paul. I thought when they hurried so to get away that they were up to something."
"Queer joke," commented Maud.
"Didn't you think those strange men acted suspiciously?" asked Daisy.
"How could they do otherwise when Cecilia acted as she did? I never saw a girl so forward."
"I suppose she will have some boys tagging after us on our tour, if her car is fixable," went on Daisy in sarcastic tones. "Likely she will find some excuse for stopping at hotels, and such places. Mother insisted I should not go to any public eating place unless we have some older person along. But Cecilia—she is old or young, just as it suits her."
"There's Bess and Belle!" exclaimed Maud, as the Robinson twins' runabout swerved into the avenue.
"And there are Jack—and Cecilia!" Daisy fairly gasped the words.
At that instant the two last named persons, in Jack's little car, came up to the turn. Cecilia looked almost pretty—even her critics admitted that, secretly. Of course, Jack was always handsome.
"I wonder how Bess feels," remarked Daisy with scornfully curled lip.
"She thinks a lot of Jack," replied Maud, as both bowed to the occupants of the runabout.
"Where do you suppose they are going?" went on Daisy.
"Oh, probably to see about having the old car fixed up. Of course, when she got Jack to fetch it she will manage to have him attend to the rest."
Bess and Belle were now abreast of the girls on the sidewalk. The twins bowed pleasantly, while the others nodded in return.
"I wish mother had not gone to town this morning," said Daisy. "I would just like to see where they are all going."
"Your mother took the car?"
"Yes; and she won't be home until evening. Well, I declare if there isn't Cora and—"
"Walter Pennington," finished Maud. "She is almost as changeable as her brother."
"Isn't it too mean that we have to walk," complained Daisy. "I have a mind to go over to the garage and ask for a car. Father often gets one."
"Oh, yes. Doctors are always having breakdowns. Do you suppose you could get one?"
"Well, I am going to try, at any rate," and Daisy Bennet quickened her pace, while Maud Morris hurried along with her companion. It was but a few minutes' walk to the garage, and when the girls reached the entrance they were surprised to find the three automobiles, Jack's, Cora's and the twins' pulled up outside.
"Oh, I can't go in now," demurred Daisy. "We will have to wait until they go. Funny they should be taking a morning run, without asking us along."
Paul Hastings was talking to the Robinson girls. It was evident that he was much excited. Cora was on the sidewalk, and Cecilia was beside her. Jack stood off to one side with Walter.
"Some important consultation," whispered Daisy. "I'll wager it's about the hold-up."
"Of course, father knows you had nothing to do with it," Bess was saying to Paul, "but he is positive the papers were in that mail. Corn, thought it best we should let you know right away."
"Forewarned is forearmed," said Paul. Then Daisy and Maud came up to the group.
"My!" exclaimed Daisy. "Quite a gathering."
"Yes," answered Clip. "We are glad you came. Now our meeting is complete. We want evidence. Tell us all you know about the strange men. You had a good chance to observe. You were not in the little quadrille on the road."
"Why," stammered Daisy, "I thought them very nice-looking men. They were well dressed, and—"
"That's it," interrupted Jack. "They were nice men, well dressed. What else do you expect young ladies to observe? Clip, your suspicions are not borne out by facts. Not a girl in the party but yourself saw—what was it? The corner of the missing blue envelope in the upper right-hand pocket—"
"Jack Kimball! You know perfectly well I never said such a thing. I did see something blue, but it might have been—"
"A captured shadow from Daisy's eyes," said Walter dryly.
"What happened?" breathed Maud. Then Walter realized what a girl's eyes may do in the matter of "imploring." He deliberately stepped over to Maud's side.
"Oh, some valuable papers were taken from the mailbag," volunteeredClip. "And we thought the strange men might have found them."
"You cheerful fibber," whispered Jack. "Come on, if you expect to get to Cartown to-day."
"How can we, now?" asked Clip in an undertone.
"Just jump in and go," replied Jack. "Why should we explain?"
Jack cranked up his car, and in her usual deliberate way, Cecilia Thayer stepped into the runabout, pulled on her gloves, smoothed out the robe, and then said: "Good morning!"
Jack and Clip left the others standing in surprise and, perhaps, disappointment. Only Cora guessed where they were actually going.
The fact that Cecilia Thayer could be old or young, as had been remarked by one of her companions, was not a mere saying. The Thayers were strangers in Chelton, and Cecilia was now only home from school on a vacation. It was generally understood that the girl was not exactly a daughter of the small household, but perhaps a niece, or some relative, who made her home with the people. She never invited her friends to her home, but this was not considered strange, as her means plainly were not equal to the circumstances of those with whom she associated.
Not that Cecilia sought this class, because she was constantly sought by them—she was a brilliant, happy young girl, and, as such, was a most desirable adjunct to the Chelton younger set.
It was, of course, Cora Kimball who "took her up," and that fact was sufficient to vouch for all.
The girl and Jack were well on the road to Woodbine the morning of the little meeting by the garage, when, with a very different expression of countenance to that shown to the party by the roadside, Cecilia grasped at the arm of the young man beside her.
"It's awfully good of you, Jack," she said, "and I suppose I am taking desperate chances."
"Good! The idea! It's a privilege," he answered warmly.
"You suspect, of course."
"I have suspected," he said with a light laugh.
"And if the girls find out?"
"What of it? Is it a disgrace to—"
"Hush! I haven't qualified yet, and when I do I'm going to spring it on them." She tossed her head back defiantly. "Won't some of them howl!"
Jack laughed outright. "You're a brick, Clip," he exclaimed. "You can count on Cora, too. Does she know?"
"I haven't told her, but I imagine she has guessed. You are a great family at guessing."
"Which way?" he inquired, nodding toward a fork in the road.
"To the left. Isn't it too mean that our old lumber wagon gave way? I never had more need of it. It's just splendid of you to help me out this way."
"And good of you to let me," he replied with a keen glance at the girl's bright face.
"Of course I had no idea of going on the girls' trip. I only went in for the arrangements for the fun of the thing. I seem to need an awful lot of fun," she finished with a sigh that ended like a groan.
"Oh, we all do, more or less," spoke Jack. "Only some of us are more upright than others in the way we acknowledge it."
They were turning up to the Salvey cottage. Cecilia pointed it out.
"You must expect to sign the promise book," she said. "That is a condition of admittance."
"So Cora told me. Well, I'll sign. Can't tell which name may win the prize."
"Of course I'll see Wren first. But before we go she will insist upon seeing you. And—don't mind her extravagances about me. You know, she sees so few people that she thinks I am just wonderful."
"I agree with her. But you can count upon my discretion, if that is what you want, Clip."
"You're 'immense,' Jack!" exclaimed the girl, her smile apologizing for the vulgarity of the expression. "If I had a brother like you—"
"Hush! Your brother! Why, Clip!"
"Here we are," she interrupted; and she prepared to get out as Jack stopped the car. "Suppose you stay outside until I call you?"
"Oh, if I must. But be sure to call. I've had Cora play that trick, and forget the cue."
"Oh, she'll have to see you," and with that Cecilia jumped out of the car, and presently touched the brass knocker of the little cottage.
Jack was left to his own thoughts. Wasn't she a girl, though? So like Cora in her impulses. Well, a girl has to be impulsive to get ahead—she is so ridiculously hampered by conventionalities.
It seemed a long time before Clip reappeared at the door, and beckoned him to come in. Then the room he entered smelled strongly of antiseptics, and the crippled child sat in a chair made sweet and fresh with snowy pillows. Wren had her promise book in her hands. Briefly Cecilia introduced Jack, while the child eyed him keenly, as do those deprived of the usual means of making sure of their friends.
"You know about my promise," she said shyly. "Grandpa's will is lost in an old table, and will you promise to help find it?"
"Indeed I will," said Jack warmly, taking the pen offered. "I have a weakness for hunting old furniture, and I hope it will be my good fortune to find the table."
"How much you are like your sister," said Wren, referring to Cora, "but not a bit like your cousin."
This caused both Jack and Cecilia to laugh—she Jack's cousin!
Mrs. Salvey patted the child's head. "She is so much better lately," she said, "since she has been friends with Miss Thayer."
"Her friendship is wonderful," said Jack, handing back the book. "It does me all sorts of good."
Cecilia was pulling on her gloves. She picked up the small black satchel (her hand bag, she called it), and started for the door.
"That hand bag smells like—"
"Fresh eggs," she interrupted Jack. "Understand, young man, I had to come out here to get one dozen of strictly fresh eggs."
For a moment she looked intently at Jack, as if determined to put him on his honor without further explanation. He took her hand and assisted her into the car. As he did so she felt the assurance that Jack Kimball was her friend.
Then they started back to Chelton.
"Isn't it too mean? I never thought that Cecilia would act so. I think Jack knows why."
Bess Robinson was talking to Cora. Her voice betrayed something other than disappointment. Bess now called Cecilia by her full name—the affectionate "Clip" had been laid aside. Besides this she hesitated when Jack's name was needed in her conversation. The fact was perfectly evident. Jack's attention to Cecilia, their runaway ride, and the consequent talk, had rather hurt Bess. Jack had always been a very good friend to her.
"But Clip simply can't come," said Cora. "Her machine is out of order, and, besides this, she is called away to look after some sick relative."
"Cora Kimball!" exclaimed Bess. "You're a perfect baby. Sick relative! Why, every one sickens a relative when they want to go away in a hurry. It might be interesting to know who else has a made-up sick relative who demands, say, Jack's immediate attention."
"Why, Bess! I'm surprised that you should speak so bitterly. You know perfectly well that Jack's going to the races. You heard them make all the arrangements—Jack, Ed and Walter. Besides—" Cora stopped. She tossed back her pretty head as if too disgusted to speak. She was packing the last of her touring things into the hampers of the Whirlwind. She would have everything ready for the early start next morning. Bess Robinson had run over for final instructions, when Cora announced that Cecilia Thayer could not go with them on the motor girls' tour. This information drove all other details from the mind of Bess. And now Cora was locking her boxes.
"Oh, I suppose we will get along very well without her," said Bess finally. "In fact, it may be better that she does not come, for she is bound to be doing things that are risky."
"Well, we will miss her, I'm sure," said Cora, "for she is such good company. But we will have to manage."
"Has Belle all your tools packed? Don't forget candles; they are so handy when anything happens after dark. I always fetch them. They poke under little places so nicely."
"Oh, I fancy Belle has managed to take along the candelabra. At least, I think I can count on the glass candlesticks. Poor Belle! I wonder will she ever leave off that sort of thing. She cares more or an 'effect' than for a good square meal," answered Bess.
"Alt kinds make a world," replied Cora. "Suppose she were as sensible as you or I? Why, as well take away the flowers, and plant kindling wood."
Bess laughed. Cora turned up the path with her. "I met Ray," saidBess, "buying a new veil, of course. I would hate to be as pretty asRay, and have so much trouble to keep up the reputation. That's theworst of pretty girls. They really have to keep pretty."
"And Daisy? Was she buying a new novel to read en route? They might both do better to 'chip in' and buy a new kit of tools," said Cora.
At precisely eight forty-five o'clock the next morning the Whirlwind drew up in front of the post-office. The start was to be made from that point, and Cora was first to arrive. With her were Hazel Hastings, and Gertrude Adams, a school friend of Cora's.
Two minutes later the Flyaway puffed into sight with the Robinson twins smiling serenely from her two-part seat.
Scarcely had the occupants of the two car exchanged greetings than Daisy Bennet and Maud Morris drove up in the Bennet runabout, called the Breeze. On account of the change of plan, Ray Stuart was to ride with Cora, instead of with Clip, as was at first proposed. Ray met the girls at the post-office. As predicted, she did look like a brand new bisque statue. She wore a soft silk coat, of light green pongee, the same shade hood, over which "rested," one might say, a long white chiffon veil. It reposed on the hood, where two secret pins held it, but otherwise the veil was mingled with Ray's expression and the surrounding atmosphere. The girls sighed as they beheld her. She had been waiting for some minutes in the post-office, and needless to say there were others waiting, too—not altogether engrossed in reading the latest mail.
Cora stepped out of the Whirlwind and opened the tonneau door for Ray. Hazel and she were to ride within the car, while Gertrude shared the seat with Cora. Cora wore her regular motor togs. The close-fitting pongee coat showed off well her perfect figure, and with the French bonnet, that nestled so snugly to her black tresses there was no semblance to the flaring, loose effect so common to motorists. She looked more like a Paris model than a girl equipped for a tour. But Cora had that way—she was always "classy," as the boys expressed it, or in perfect style, as the girls would admit.
Hazel usually affected strong shades—she was dark and could wear reds and browns to good advantage. It so happened that the motor girls afforded a peculiar variety, no two wearing similar outfits. Timid little Maud Morris was in white, and Daisy was in linen. The Robinson girls wore their regular uniform—Bess in Havana-brown and Belle in true-blue. So it will be seen that such an array of beauty and clothes could not help but attract attention, to say nothing of the several automobiles that made up the procession in front of the post-office.
At the last moment Belle had to run into a store to make some trifling purchases, while Daisy sent two extra postcards, and Ray needed something from the drug store.
Finally all was ready. It was just nine o'clock.
"Ready!" called Cora.
A blast on a bugle startled them. Then—
What was it?
It looked like a hay wagon, but it came along at the speed of a fine auto.
"The boys!" called the girls in one breath.
Sure enough, there were Jack, Walter, Ed and some others of their chums, piled up on a veritable hay rack, and they wore all sorts of farmer clothes. The hay rack evidently set upon the body of are automobile.
And Jack on the "monkey seat," blowing that bugle!
"Start!" called Cora.
"They're off!" shouted the chorus from the hay wagon, and then Chelton folks were treated to a sight the like of which they had never before witnessed.
It was the first official tour of the original motor girls.
"No BOYS, eh?" shouted Ed from his "perch" in the hay.
"Aren't they dreadful?" exclaimed Daisy with doubtful sincerity.
"Hope mother doesn't hear of it," replied Maud. "She would be sure to worry."
Cora laughed, and Bess fairly panted. Belle tossed something into the hay wagon as it passed—it made a practice of passing each machine in turn, and then doing it all over again.
Every one in Chelton and the near-by places rushed out as the procession went along. It was like a circus—many folks really did believe that a "railroad show" had come to town unannounced.
The girls had planned to have dinner at a pretty little tea-house on the outskirts of Hollyville. But the boys had no intention of turning back, it seemed, and imagine those boys in the tea-house, kept by a couple of enterprising college girls!
"Hey there!" called Jack. "When do we eat? There's the noon whistles."
"Yon don't eat," replied Cora.
"Don't, eh? Well, look out for your commissary department," answeredJack. "We came prepared to fight."
"Oh," sighed Daisy, "do you suppose they will spoil all our boxes?"
"I'm sure I don't know," replied the noncommital Maud.
But Hazel said: "What do you suppose they are up to?"
"Trust them for fun," answered Cora. "I will simply trounce Jack if he attempts to overhaul our stores."
Hazel laughed merrily. "If only Paul were along," she ventured. "And, Cora, do you know that mailbag business is not by any means settled?" she asked.
"I know that, girlie," said Cora with polite seriousness, "but all troubles are tabooed on this ride, you know. Gertrude," to the girl who had been looking and listening, "I appoint you monitor of this car. The first girl to bring in troubles is to be fined."
"Very well," replied Gertrude, "I shall be glad to have something to do. I feel like a stranger with those boys."
"That's because you do not know them," ventured Ray. "They are perfectly splendid boys."
"Make a note of that," called Cora. "Gertrude, that is one mark in favor of Ray."
The procession was winding along a pretty country road. Trees closed in from side to side, and deep gutters outlined the driveway from the footpath.
The boys had actually ceased their antics for the time, and it occurred to more than one girl that this respite might have been more advantageous if it had been put into operation in the city streets—the decorum was wasted in the woods. But boys have a queer reasoning code—where girls are concerned.
"Don't you suppose they will turn back before we reach the Glen?" called Bess to Cora. Their machines were running quite close together.
"If they don't leave us we will drive past the teahouse, and come back later," said Cora.
"But what will the college girls think? They will be sure to have a nice lunch ready."
"When Tillie sees Ed Foster she will cease to think. She knows Ed," and Cora laughed significantly.
"Oh, look!" shouted Hazel. "A flock of sheep. And directly in the track. The boys—"
At that moment every one saw the sheep. The hay wagon made a spurt and dashed straight through the frightened herd, scattering them right and left, like feathers blown by the wind.
Daisy and Maud came next. They had time to jam down the brakes, but it would have been wiser to have dashed through the flock without loss of time, for an angry ram turned as the car slacked speed, and when Daisy and Maud saw him jump toward them, they also jumped out into the gutter, deserting their car.
A big, woolly ram leaped up from the midst of the flock, and actually landed in the runaway automobile. The improvised hay wagon was quickly steered to one side, just as Daisy's car, with the horned beast at the wheel, plunged past.
The machine, in charge of the queer mechanician, plunged straight ahead, and after a moment's hesitation on the part of their drivers, the other cars were quickly sent after it.
The boys shouted lustily. As if the frightened and angry ram cared for the harmony of a college quartet. Wasn't it ridiculous to see the ram positively driving the car?
By some strange instinct the animal had raised its fore legs to the rim of the steering wheel, standing upright on his hind ones, which were jamming the brake and clutch pedals.
"Oh!" screamed the girls in a chorus. "There comes a runabout! He'll collide with it!"
A runabout, coming in the opposite direction, and headed straight for the ram, could be seen down the road. The driver was a girl, that was evident, but she was so muffled in hood, veil and cloak that her features were not discernible.
"Stop it!" screamed Gertrude. "She'll be killed."
The ram evidently saw the other car coming, and tried to leap out, but its fore feet had gone through the spaces between the spokes of the steering wheel. The girl in the runabout was sending her car from side to side, in a frantic endeavor to avoid a collision. It seemed to be a choice with her, whether she should smash into the ram's car, or tilt into the roadside ditch.
Suddenly the girl stood up. The eyes of the motor girls and their boy companions were on her. She gave a scream, and then—something happened. From the rear cars came a scream. Then—the Breeze was stopped—the ram was gone, and the runabout was ditched.
Where and who was the unfortunate driver?
When all the machines had been stopped there was a wild rush to the rescue—Bess and Belle with Gertrude hurrying back to where Daisy and Maud had been left, while Cora, Ray and Hazel ran forward to the side of the strange runabout. The boys divided themselves—some going in each direction.
Presently Cora shouted
"Jack! Jack! Hurry! It's Clip! And she is unconscious!"
Jack was not far away, and at his sister's call he hurried to her. Ray had taken Cecilia's head in her lap, while Cora was trying to lift the unconscious girl from her bent-up posture in the narrow, roadside, grass-grown ditch.
"Oh, the poor dear!" sighed Cora. "To think that our sport should have—"
Cecilia was opening her eyes.
"Clip! Clip, dear!" whispered Cora. "Try to—wake up!"
Cecilia did try—she put her hand to her dazed eyes.
"Here! Let me lift her," commanded Jack, slipping down on the other side into the deep grass and without any apparent effort lifting Cecilia up. With one long step he reached the road. Then for a moment he seemed uncertain—should he lay the girl down, or carry her to a machine?
"Oh, I can stand," she said faintly. "I am much better now.What—happened?"
"You happened," answered Jack, so dismissing the question. "Just keep still, and we will have you around directly. This is where you beat the motor girls." He was now helping her to her feet. "You may ride back with the motor boys."
"Are you better?" asked Ray anxiously, stroking Cecilia's white hand, which had been divested of its glove. "Wasn't it dreadful?"
"Very," sighed Cecilia. "And my poor little machine! Jack, how can I ever—"
"You can never," he insisted with a wink. "I never saw such a rambunctious ram. Didn't he ramify, though?"
"What in the world was it?" asked Cecilia. She was sitting on the grass and seemed almost prepared to laugh. "I thought I must be seeing things. Then I—"
"Felt things," said Jack. "That's the regular course of the disease. Here come the others. Hello, Daisy has the veil tied up, and Maud is limping."
"What happened to them?" asked Cecilia.
"Same thing that happened to you," replied Jack. "The ram. That was the most happening thing I have seen in some time."
Maud was limping, and had Ed's arm. Daisy kept her hand to her face, and she clung to Walter. Hazel flashed a meaning look to Cora. The girls might not be very badly injured, but they needed help—that sort of help.
"Well!" exclaimed Cora. "You look as if something did happen."
"Oh, I'm all scratched," fluttered Daisy. "That is, my face feels like a grater." She took her handkerchief from the abused face. A few harmless scratches were discernible.
"Not so bad," said Jack. "Just the correct lines, I believe, for—let me see—intellectuality."
"Oh, you needn't joke," snapped Daisy. "I suppose Cecelia—is—badly hurt!"
She said this with the evident intention of drawing attention to Jack's attitude toward Cecilia.
"Now, Daisy," said Jack good-naturedly, "if you want to dump in the ditch again, and will only give me the chance, I will be perfectly delighted to fish you out: I fancy I would get you first shot."
"Oh, you need not bother," interrupted Walter. "I can take care ofMiss Bennet."
At this he spread his handkerchief most carefully on the grass, and, with mock concern, assisted Daisy to the low seat.
Ed followed suit, adding to the handkerchief cushion his cap—to make the grass softer for Maud.
"But however did you happen along, Cecilia?" asked Belle, who now added her dainty self to the line of girls on the roadside.
"Now, here!" called Jack. "No more happenings! I beg your pardon, Belle, but we have had such a surfeit of this happening business that we intend, in the language of the poets, to cut it out."
Cecilia gave Jack a grateful glance. Cora broke in promptly with a new thought—to divert attention.
"And you are the girls who wanted 'No Boys!'" exclaimed Walter. "I should just like to know what you would have done without us?"
"There! Didn't I tell you?" said Cora. "They are actually claiming the glory of the whole thing. I suppose, Walter, you hired the ram to do the proper thing in initiating the motor girls in the art of touring?"
"Wouldn't he make a hit, though, at some of our college affairs!" exclaimed Ed. "I wonder if we could buy the beast? Here comes the owner now."
The girls looked alarmed. Suppose the farmer should blame them for the disappearance of the ram!
"I'll do the talking," suggested Walter. "If you say anything, Jack, there might be a row."
"Humph!" said Jack. "I suppose you know just how to deal with ram owners."
The farmer was quite up to them now. He was not an ill-natured-looking man, and as he approached he touched his big straw hat.
"No one hurt?" he asked, much to the girls' relief.
"Oh, no, thank you," said Cora, before Walter could open his mouth. "I hope you have not lost the sheep."
"Lose him! Couldn't do that if you chucked him in the mill-pond and let the dam loose on him. Only yesterday the plagued thing went for my wife. Yes, sir, and he 'most knocked her down. When I seed your steam wagons comin' along I knowed there would be trouble. He's that pesky!"
The man looked at the disabled machine.
"Busted?" he asked.
"Some," replied Walter. "But I guess we can manage. Would you like to sell that ram?"
"Sell him? What for? To kill folks as try to feed him? I bought him from a fellow who always wore an overcoat, and, bless me, that ram got so used to it if I haven't had to put my ulster on the hottest days this summer to do down to the pasture where he was chewin'."
The boys laughed heartily at this. Walter seemed keener than ever now on making a bargain.
"Well, you see," he said, "we might use the fellow for stunts—tricks.I think we might train him—"
A scream from Belle startled them.
"Oh!" she yelled. "There he comes! What shall we do?"
Without waiting for instructions, however, Belle, with the other girls, jumped up and started for a little cottage not far from the roadside. The ram was coming over the fields straight for the autos.
"Now wait," cautioned the farmer, as the boys made ready to confront the animal. "Just keep back until he gets near that machine. Then maybe we can git him."
"He's game sport, all right," said Walter. "He evidently hasn't had enough."
The brush and low trees along the road made it possible for the young men to hide, while the excited animal dashed through the tall grass out into the road.
He went straight for the hay wagon. With a bound he was in the decorated auto, like a beast in a cage, with the rack and hay trimmings surrounding him.
"Now we've got him," said the farmer; "that is, if we're careful."
"How?" whispered Ed.
"Someone must lasso him." The farmer held out the rope in his hand, making a loop ready to throw over the ram's head.
The girls had reached the cottage, but were calling to the boys all sorts of warning and cautions.
"When he gets at the hay," said the farmer, "I guess he'll eat. That run likely whet up his appetite."
"More fun than a deer hunt," said Jack, laughing. "I wonder what will turn up next on this motor girls' tour."
"Get busy," said Ed, creeping toward the hay wagon. "Now, Walter— Oh,Glory be! If he isn't at my four-dollar gloves!"
Quick, like the well=trained athlete that he was, Ed grabbed the rope from the farmer, sprang to the hay rack and made a cast.
It landed true on the animal's horns.
"I've got him!" exclaimed the boy. "Now, fellows, quick! Make his legs fast."
No need to say "quick," for the boys were up and busy making fast the beast before the surprised farmer had a chance to exclaim.
"So you like the real thing in gloves?" asked Ed while pulling at the rope. "Well, I fancy you will make something real—perhaps a robe—for the best record of this trip. Oh, I say, fellows, let's buy the brute, have him done up properly, and offer his coat to the girl who comes home with a record."
Shouts of glee followed this suggestion, and the girls, seeing that the animal was made safe, were now running back from the cottage to add their voices to the excitement.
Clip insisted upon helping to tie the ram—she declared he had done his share toward making it uncomfortable for her—while Daisy, in her timid way, wanted to do something to the "saucy thing" for upsetting her, and Jack suggested that she "box his horrid ears."
Cora glanced at her watch.
"If it's all the same to the gentlemen," she said, "we will continue on our way. We have lost a full hour already."
"Lost!" repeated Walter meaningly.
"She said 'lost,'" faltered Ed with similar intent.
"Not actually lost," corrected Cora, "but at least dropped out of our itinerary."
"We were due ten miles ahead now," sighed Maud in her wistful way.
"Too bad, too bad," whimpered Jack, who was still pulling at the ram's rope. "But it was not our fault, girls. Now, Daisy, do you think you can run your machine without taking in any more circuses? We have examined your car, and it is intact—not so much as a footprint did the naughty beast leave."
Clip was looking over her runabout. It was not damaged, it seemed, and for this she was most grateful. Clip was not out for pleasure—you have guessed that—and it would have been highly inconvenient for that young lady to go back to town in the hay.
Jack left off at the ram's horn, and came to crank up for her.
"All right, Clip?" he asked with evident concern. "I don't want you to go over that lonely road if you do not feel just like it. I can go with you."
"You!" she exclaimed. "Why, Jack Kimball, what are you thinking about?" and she laughed airily. "If you want to finish the impression we started the other day, just take another ride with me. No, Jack, my dear boy, I am very much all right, and very much obliged. But I must hurry off. Whatever will my little brown Wren think of me?" She stepped into the car. "Good-by, girls," she called. "I am so sorry I delayed you, but so glad we met. Take care of the ram, boys, and am I eligible for the trophy? I am a motor girl, you know."
"Of course you are," said Jack, before the others could speak. "All motor girls are eligible."
"Ida Giles, too?" asked Bess. The moment she had spoken she could have bitten her tongue. Why could she never hide her feelings about Jack and Clip?
"And, girls," called Cecilia, who was starting now, "don't forget about your promise. Wren is counting on results."
"What promise?" asked Ed.
"Oh, don't you know?" replied Cora. "Well, I am afraid Jack will have to tell you. We really have not another moment. Are you ready, girls?"
"Why, our strange promise," put in Maud, who was glad to have a "real remark" to make to Ed. "We promised a little girl we would find an old table for her and we have just ransacked the farmer's house, hoping to find it."
Cora burst out laughing. Such an explanation!
"Why, I'll promise a 'little girl' that," said Ed, taking up Cora's laugh. "Any qualifications? Might it be a time-table?"
Maud pouted. She stepped into Cora's car, evidently disgusted with boys in general.
Gertrude had something to say to Walter, and was obliged to stand up on the hay rack to do so, as the young man would not let go the rope that held the ram.
There was a sudden hum of an auto, and Clip was gone.
"Thought she had a sick relative," murmured Bess.
"So she has," said Jack, who overheard the remark. "But she came near neglecting her this morning. That was a close call."
"Oh, yes," said Bess with a curled lip. "It seems to me everythingCecilia does is close."
"Bess Robinson!" exclaimed Jack. "Do you want me to hug you? You have been treating me shamefully for weeks past. Now, own up. What have I done?"
Jack knew how to restore Bess to good humor, and his success this time was marked.
"You ridiculous boy!" exclaimed Bess. "You know perfectly well what I mean."
And Jack did.
"We have dropped something," said Cora as the party started off again.
"Yes," replied Gertrude, "I agree with Ray that the boys are jolly. We miss them already."
"Hush!" cautioned Cora. "We are to have nothing to do with boys on this trip."
She laughed at her own assertion.
"Nothing more to do with them?" asked Belle. Bess kept her machine within talking distance.
"Till the next time," replied Cora, throwing in the second speed gear."But we will certainly have to hurry now. What on earth do you supposeWalter will do with that ram?"
"What on earth do you think the ram will do with Walter?" replied Ray.
"He paid the farmer three dollars for him, and the man declared he could have him for nothing," said Belle. "Now, that three dollars—"
"Would have bought orchids," interrupted Cora, teasing Belle for her sentimentality.
"Cora," spoke Hazel suddenly, "did you hear what Ed said to Jack aboutPaul's hold-up?"
"The forbidden topic," interrupted Gertrude. "Hazel, you don't want to lose the sheepskin for insubordination, do you?"
"But, Gertrude, please," begged Hazel quite seriously, "I really must speak to Cora. I will promise not to be blue, but you know I am very anxious about Paul."
"Then speak on, very briefly," replied Gertrude. "I will allow you exactly five minutes."
"Thanks," said Hazel. "Cora," she began again, "Ed told Jack that the papers lost from the mail belonged to Mr. Robinson, and have to do with a very valuable patent. Do you suppose the post-office will do anything to Paul?"
"Oh, you precious baby!" exclaimed Cora. "Don't you know that Paul has been entirely cleared? The mystery is simply who took the papers and otherwise left the mailbag intact?"
"Poor Paul!" sighed the sister.
"Poor Hazel!" added Cora. "A sister who is always worrying about a handsome brother is bound to lose him, eh, Gertrude?"
Gertrude blushed. She had only met Paul once, and at that time her remark was so positive that Cora had seized the opportunity of teasing the girl. That she never noticed boys was Gertrude's claim at college, and now Cora was delighted to have a chance of reversing the claim.
Daisy and Maud, who had been at some distance from the Whirlwind, now cut past Bess and Belle, making their way to the side of the big maroon car.
"Cora," called Daisy, "I forgot to tell you. I found this little satchel by the road where we stopped."
Cora gazed at the black bag that Daisy held up for her inspection.
"Why," faltered Cora, "that must belong to Clip. Why didn't you ask to whom it did belong?"
"I really never thought a word about it until Maud said just now it must be Clip's."
"But why did you pick it up without asking?" insisted Cora, her voice somewhat indignant.
"It was dropped on the road. I thought of course it belonged to some of the girls, and just threw it in my car in a hurry when you called to us to hasten along," said Daisy, her voice sharp and eyes flashing.
"I am sure it must belong to Clip," said Cora, calming down. "I hope it will not inconvenience her."
"I wish you would take the smelly thing," shouted Daisy. "It smells like papa's office, and I hate drugs."
"Clip was going to see some sick relative," went on Cora, "and of course the satchel—"
"Must be filled with the sickness," and Daisy laughed sarcastically. "Well, papa's bag smells that way, but he has more than one 'sick relative.'"
Cora frowned. Gertrude looked surprised. Hazel shook her head atDaisy.
"Toss it here," called Cora. "I just love disinfectants."
Daisy threw the bag into the Whirlwind. Then she put on speed and passed the big car.
For a few miles the girls seemed very quiet, scarcely any conversation being held.
It was but a short run to the Grotto, the little wayside tea-house. The party was a full hour late, but Cora knew she could depend upon generous excuses for the motor girls.
So many things might happen by the way, and so many things did happen.
"I suppose," murmured Ray, "the biscuit will be stony. I do love hot biscuit."
"Don't worry. Tillie will keep things hot, if she possibly can do so. But I hear they have had some very busy days at the Grotto. I hope we have not hit upon the very busiest. Gertrude, have I told you about the Grotto? Did you know that Mathilde Herold and Adele Genung are keeping a tea-house this summer, to earn enough money for their senior year? And they have done surprisingly well. Yes, their folks have a summer place near the tea-house, so the girls go home nights, and of course the place must be very pretty—Tillie is an artist in decorating."
"Splendid!" exclaimed Gertrude. "Of course I know Tillie. What girl at Springsley doesn't know her? She has been decorating for every affair at the gym. And she always helped with chapel. Oh, yes, indeed, Cora, I agree with you, Tillie Herold is an artist."
"Well, let us hope her talent is not confined to mere walls," said Ray."Hot biscuit requires a different stroke, I believe."
"In accepting us for to-day," said Cora. "Tillie stipulated that we should dine table d'hote and no questions asked. I hope, Ray, you will not be disappointed."
"Oh, there they are!" exclaimed Hazel. "I see some one waving her apron!"
"That's Adele," replied Cora. "She knows how to wave aprons. Don't you remember, Gertrude, the night she served the Welsh rarebit, when she made an apron of our best table-piece with a string through the middle?"
Cora turned her auto to the roadside. Then she called to the cars following:
"Here we are, girls. Get your machines well in from the road."
"Oh, what a charming place!" exclaimed Belle, who was not slow to observe the attractions of the little Grotto. It seemed all porch and vines, one of those picture places, ample for an eating house, but unsuited for anything else.
"There!" gasped Daisy; "that's the sort of house to live in!"
"To live out of, you mean," put in Maud. "I can't see how one could live 'in' there."
The cars were all motionless now. Cora and Gertrude had already "escaped" from the college hug of Adele and Tillie. When the Chelton girls had been introduced, the vine-covered porch was actually filled with the members of the motor party.
"How splendid!" exclaimed Tillie, with that delightful German accent that defies letters and requires a pretty mouth to "exhale."
"Darling!" went on Adele, with all the extravagance of schoolgirl enthusiasm.
"You leave us no adjectives," remarked Cora. "I never saw anything so sweet. How ever did you get those vines to grow so promptly?"
"Wild cucumber," said Adele with a laugh, "Why, you know, dear, wild cucumber can no more help growing than you can. Isn't she tall, Tillie? I do believe you have grown inches since school, Cora."
"Yes, mother bemoans it. My duds are all getting away from me."
"And we have been waiting lunch for you ladies. I did hope we would not have a single visitor to-day, so that we might entertain you properly," went on Adele, "but two horrid men called. Wanted 'tea'; but indeed I know what they wanted—just a quiet place to talk about their old patent papers."
"Yes, and one broke a beautiful china cup," said Tillie.
"But he had his thumb gone," Adele hurried to say. "I saw him directly I went to pick up the pieces. So I suppose we could not exactly blame the man for dropping Tillie's real German cup."
"His thumb gone!" repeated Cora absently.
"Oh!" exclaimed Hazel. "The man we met after Paul's hold-up had lost a joint of his thumb."
"And papa said the papers stolen were patent papers!" exclaimed Bess, all excitement.
"Hush!" whispered Belle. "Bess, you know father particularly said we were not to speak of that."
If, as is claimed, the mature woman has the wonderful advantage of an instinct almost divine, then the growing girl has, undoubtedly, the advantage of intuitive shocks—flashes of wireless insight into threatening surroundings.
Such a flash was distinctly felt now through the Grotto—even the two young proprietors, who were not supposed to be really concerned, felt distinctly that "something was doing somewhere."
Cora sank down into a low wicker chair. Bess and Belle managed to both get upon a very small divan, while Daisy, Maud and Ray, the "three graces," stood over in the corner, where an open window let in just enough honeysuckle to sift the very softest possible sunshine about the group.
But Hazel lingered near the telephone. She had confided to Cora thatPaul was not at all well when he left home in the morning, and just nowshe was wondering if it would seem silly for her to call up theWhitehall Company and ask to speak with her brother.
At that instant the telephone bell rang.
It sent the expected shock through the little assemblage, and Cora jumped up as if she anticipated a message.
Tillie took down the receiver.
Presently she was saying "no" and "yes," and then she repeated Cora's name.
She handed the receiver to Cora with a whispered word.
Hazel's face went very white.
"You little goose!" exclaimed Bess, who instantly noticed the change."Is there no one here worth a telephone message but Hazel Hastings?"
"Yes, Ed—Ed Foster," they heard Cora say. Then she listened a long time. Her face did not betray pleasure, and her words were plainly disguised.
"All right, Ed," she said finally. "I will attend to it at once. Oh, yes, a perfectly lovely time. Thank you—we are just about to dine. Good-by."
Cora was slow to hang up the receiver. And when she turned aroundHazel Hastings confronted her.
"Oh, is it Paul?" asked Hazel. "Tell me quickly. What has happened toPaul?"
"Hazel," said Cora, "you must have your lunch. You are dreadfully excitable."
But it was Cora Kimball who was distracted, who played with her lunch without apparent appetite, and it was she who could take but one cup of tea in the fascinating little tea-house, the college girls' Grotto.
"Now, Cora, dear," began Gertrude, in her quiet, yet convincing way, "you may just as well tell us what you are waiting for. We are guessing all sorts of things, and the truth cannot possibly be as bad."
They were sitting on the porch of the Grotto, and although they were away behind scheduled time at that point, Cora insisted she wanted to rest a bit, and seemed loath to move.
Cora Kimball tired after twenty-five miles! As well accuse theWhirlwind of drinking its own gasoline.
Hazel was almost feverish. Cora had not divulged the purport of the telephone message, beyond admitting it was from Ed, which gave Ray the chance for her little joke on the combination of names—Cora and Ed, the "Co-Eds."
"When the Co-Eds conspire," lisped Ray, "we may as well wait patiently.We will have to wait their pleasure, of course."
Cora did not mind the sarcasm. She was certainly not like herself. Bess and Belle were even anxious about her, and offered all sorts of remedies, from bicarbonate of soda to dry tea.
"Now," said Cora finally, "it is two o'clock. Do you really think we ought to make Breakwater tonight?"
"Why not?" gasped Daisy. "Won't Aunt May be waiting for us? And it is only thirty miles."
"Yes, but," faltered Cora, "suppose you should have a breakdown on that lonely road? There is neither station nor house from here to the falls."
"What should break down?" asked Daisy. "This is papa's best machine, if you mean it is not trustworthy."
"Oh, Daisy, dear, I had no idea of insinuating such a thing. Your machine, of course, is just as trustworthy as any of the others. But I was thinking how delightful it would be to spend the night here. I really must confess to being broken up by that ram accident," and Cora shivered slightly.
The girls looked at her in astonishment. Her words did not ring true;Cora Kimball was a poor actress.
"If Cora wants to stay," said Tillie, "I should think you would all agree. Cora is captain, is she not?"
"But our trip will be spoiled," wailed Maud. "I do wish I had never come."
"Oh, if there is going to be real distress about it," said Cora, evidently trying hard to pull herself together, "I suppose we had best start. But remember, I have warned you. I have a premonition that we will 'run up against' something before night."
"Then I am not going," declared Hazel. "I won't stir one step. Cora, let the others go; you can overtake them with your fast car, and we will meet them in the morning."
This brought on a veritable storm of protest and dissatisfaction. Cora left the girls on the porch, and went outside with Tillie.
"Could you hear anything those men were saying?" she asked the pretty little German. "Were they discussing a patent, do you think?"
"Oh, no; it was not like that," replied Tillie. "It was about—let me see. Some Haster, no, like a name—like your friend's name, Hazel Hastings. That was it, Hastings."
"Did they say Hazel?" pressed Cora.
"No, not that, of course," and Tillie laughed.
"How should they know Hazel? It was a similar name—just Hastings."
"And they unfolded blueprints? Like our campus maps, you know?"
"Yes, they had blue maps; I saw them when I picked up my shattered cup.—It is all very well for Adele to blame his thumb; I blame him—he is too fat, and thinks himself very smart."
Tillie pouted. Evidently her caller had not been too polite, perhaps he had mistaken her for an ordinary waitress.
A distant "honk-honk" startled the girls. Cora rushed out to the road, and before the others knew what she was about she was in conversation with Ed Foster. So quickly did he run up to the Grotto in Jack's car that no one but Cora realized who he was until the machine was stopped and he was out beside her. There was a stranger with him—a business-like looking man. He did not leave the car.
"There!" exclaimed Ray. "Didn't I tell you? It was this Co-Ed business that kept her. Cora can't fool me."
"Hazel," said Cora, stepping up to the porch, "Ed thinks you had best not go on with us. Paul is not well—he is not very sick, though—"
Hazel turned white, and Cora put her arm around her. "Now you must not be frightened. It is nothing serious, and I will go back with you," she said.
"Indeed you shall not!" exclaimed Hazel, now calling up all her courage, and proving herself to be the girl she really could be in an emergency. "I shall go back with Ed, if I may."
The girls glanced from one to the other. They understood this was an emergency, that Hazel had been called back to her sick brother, yet with girlish curiosity some of them, at least, showed surprise that Hazel should offer to ride back with Ed Foster.
"But I am not going back," said Ed; "at least not until we—this gentleman and I—have followed the trail a little farther. You see, girls, we are out on a 'bear hunt.'"
But the girls did not see—only Cora looked as if she understood. She said to Hazel:
"There is no hurry, dear. You can go with them when they come back.They have to pass this way, don't you, Ed?"
"Would you mind, Cora," said Ed suddenly, "if the gentleman outside asked you a few private questions?"
"A reporter!" exclaimed Ray, all excitement.
"Dear me! I do hope he won't ask for our pictures. Mother would never permit it."
Ed smiled broadly. He looked a sort of assent, but did not otherwise express it.
Cora stepped up to the auto, whereat the man left his place, and, under pretext of walking along idly, and perhaps thus gaining Cora's "private ear," he was soon out of reach of those on the porch.
"It is like a double robbery," he said after exchanging some preliminary remarks, "and the child is disconsolate. Her mother is sure it was not stolen, but lost, while we feel otherwise. It seems there is a handsome young man, a cousin of the child's, interested. His father is a lawyer—the lawyer who has the case against Mr. Robinson. Now this book—the promise book—contained the names of those who visited the cottage on the day that the papers were taken out of the mailbag. It is comparatively easy to guess the sequence."
"You mean they might call on those whose names appear in the book?" asked Cora, beginning to see something of the complex situation.
"Yes, and more than that. They would obtain valuable information from that little book—a clear description of the missing table. If they can find it they will be able to keep the property where it is now—in the possession of Rob Roland, Wren Salvey's rival cousin."
"Rob Roland!" exclaimed Cora. "Why, he was in the party at Robinson's the other evening. He was even attentive to a friend of ours."
"To whom, may I ask?" inquired the detective politely.
"A Miss Thayer, a young student," she replied.
"Miss Thayer! I heard her name mentioned in court this morning. Is she a friend of yours?"
"Yes, indeed!" exclaimed Cora, now alarmed. "What could be said ofCecilia Thayer?"
"Why, she has been on very intimate terms with the Salvey child, and lawyers devise all sorts of schemes, you know, to meet their own ends. It was hinted that Miss Thayer might know where the missing promise book was."
"Clip take that from Wren! Impossible!" cried Cora. "Oh, this is all a mistake! I must go back. I cannot go on and let Clip be blamed for stealing the promise book."