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The Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point; or a Wreck and a Rescue, a novel by Laura Lee Hope |
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Chapter 12. Nearly An Accident |
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_ CHAPTER XII. NEARLY AN ACCIDENT "Look at the sun! Look at the sun!" cried Betty, sitting up in bed and gazing joyfully out at the sun-drenched landscape. "Girls, for goodness sake, wake up. How can you sleep, Grace?" Grace groaned and opened one eye. "House afire?" she asked sleepily. "Of course not, Silly. But the world is." Betty was evidently in high spirits, thought Grace, as she rolled over and regarded her critically. "What do you mean--'the world is'?" she inquired grumpily, managing with great difficulty, to open the other eye. "Can't you talk sense?" "Not on a morning like this," retorted Betty, running to the window and thrusting her head far out into the balmy air. "Look, Lazybones, the roads are pretty nearly dry and we couldn't ask for a more wonderful day." "What time is it?" queried Grace, without enthusiasm. She was always unenthusiastic before breakfast in the morning, especially if she happened to get to bed rather late the night before. "Half-past six," replied Betty, turning from the window and beginning hurriedly to gather her things together. "And we all agreed last night to get up at six. I wonder if I'm the only one stirring." As if in answer to her question, there came a soft tap on the door and their hostess' voice speaking to them. "Breakfast is almost ready," she said. "I had it prepared early especially for you." "That was dear of you," replied Betty, adding with the greatest of optimism, considering that three of them were not yet out of bed: "We'll be down in ten minutes." Although the ten minutes stretched into fifteen, it is a tribute to Betty's excellent generalship that the dressing of the other three girls was managed in that time. But perhaps the aroma of bacon floating temptingly up to them had something to do with it after all, for they all four boasted youthfully unimpaired appetites. However that may be, the fact remains that in fifteen minutes from the time Mrs. Barnes stopped at the door, four very pretty and very hungry young girls gathered in the dining room, ready and eager for the day's adventure. Mrs. Ford was already there. Joe was there too, looking even more bronzed and attractive in the morning light, and Betty, glancing at him, could scarcely believe that what the boy had told her the night before had not been a dream. That splendid specimen of young manhood refused the right to serve his country because he had lung trouble! She could not even bring herself to think that other word, that horrible word, consumption. But there was one thing certain--she had not been mistaken in her judgment of the night before. He might once have been the victim of disease, but he surely was not now. Perhaps something of what she was thinking was reflected in her eyes as she looked at him, for he returned the glance with so much admiration in his own that she hastily looked away and became absorbed in the bacon on her plate. It was a very merry breakfast and a very good one, and when the time came at last for taking leave of their lovely hostess, they found themselves unexpectedly reluctant to do so. "I wish you were coming with us," said Mrs. Ford, after the lady had waved aside her thanks for the good time they had had. "I am sure you would enjoy the trip almost as much as we would enjoy having you with us." "I wish it were possible for me to go," Mrs. Barnes replied rather wistfully, as they started down the steps to the waiting automobiles. "It is rather lonesome out here," then, catching a glance from her son, who was trying to carry three handbags at once, she added hastily: "But of course I love it and would miss it awfully. Joe, be careful, dear, you nearly dropped that bag in the dirt." "I always thought I'd make good in the juggling profession," replied Joe ruefully, as he skillfully recovered the bag in question, "but I guess I was mistaken. Where do these go, Miss Billette--anywhere?" he asked, turning to Mollie. "Yes, just throw them in," replied Mollie, carelessly, absorbed in testing out her engine. "Only leave room for Mrs. Ford, that's all." Then, as Amy stopped to speak to Grace, Joe escorted Betty to her little racer and helped her into the driver's seat, though little help Betty needed or asked of anyone. "It's rather a rough deal, isn't it?" he asked suddenly. "What?" inquired Betty, surprised. "Fate introduces us one minute, then snatches you away in the next, before I've had time for more than a word with you." "Why, I remember several words we've had together," laughed Betty as she settled herself more comfortably in her seat. "Is there anything particular you want to say to me?" Joe started to speak, evidently thought better of it, and looked up at her soberly. "I've already told you more than I ever expected to tell any one," he said, and she stretched out an eager, sympathetic little hand to him. "I know, and I have felt very proud of that confidence," she said earnestly. "Then you will let me write to you and tell you how things are with me?" "Oh, I should be so glad!" she said, and there was no doubting her sincerity. He had no more than time to flash her a grateful glance when Grace came up and put an end to the conversation. Amid expressions of friendship on both sides and laughing farewells, the two cars slid backwards along the drive and out on to the road. Then with a purring of engines, the little racer leaped ahead with Mollie in close pursuit. They were off once more. It was as Betty had said. The long clear night and the bright morning sunshine had done much toward drying the roads and though they were still rather sticky and slippery, the girls had no difficulty in keeping up a good rate of speed. "This is something like," cried Grace, as she stretched both arms above her head and breathed deep of the balmy air. "I could be completely happy if it weren't for one thing." Betty had no need to ask what that one thing was, and at mention of it her thought turned involuntarily to Allen. Was he safe or had he too--she shuddered at the thought. "Wasn't it strange?" she said, seeking to change the conversation and the trend of her own thoughts at the same time, "that Joe Barnes proved to be Mrs. Barnes' son?" It was not at all what she had intended to say, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Grace turn and look at her curiously. "No, I can't see that it's so very strange," Grace said dryly. "At least I have seen stranger things." "Well, you know what I mean," retorted Betty, still absently. "He is awfully nice, isn't he?" "That's what he seemed to think of you," returned Grace slyly. "Of course he did! Why shouldn't he?" challenged Betty, coming out of her abstraction and smiling gayly. "I like me, myself." "That's the worst of it," sighed Grace, turning for consolation to her inevitable box of chocolates. "No matter how awful you are, we have to love you just the same. Look out, Betty," as the car took a curve on three wheels. "Goodness! you're getting to be a more expert skidder than Mollie." "Thanks," returned Betty, executing a bow whose grace was somewhat impaired by the proximity of the steering wheel. "Willst hand me a candy, Gracie, honey? Thanks. That's a good girl!" For a long time after that they were quiet, enjoying the swift motion, the warm wind upon their faces, the fragrance of flowers and of moist sweet earth flung to them from the depths of the woodland. Before they knew it, they had reached the outskirts of Bensington, then Bensington itself, and were speeding through the queer little town without a thought of stopping when a warning signal from Mollie's horn brought them to an abrupt stop. Betty jumped out and ran back. "We'll need some provisions," Mollie called to her. "Unless you and Grace think we can reach the next town by noon." "That's what we planned to do," Betty answered. "Grace and I thought it would save time not to stop here--and we haven't any time to waste, you know." "All right," Mrs. Ford decided. "Perhaps it will be just as well, for we shall have to put on all speed in order to reach Bluff Point before night." So Betty raced back to her machine and in a moment more they were off again, fairly eating up the miles. As the roads grew dryer and dryer beneath the scorching heat of the sun they made even better time until a little past twelve o'clock they entered the little village of Hill Crest. The place boasted nothing so magnificent as a hotel, but they managed to find a little bake shop where the rosy-cheeked country woman who worked there made them up some delicious sandwiches, supplied them with tempting rolls and cake, and, wonder of wonders, set upon the table a pitcher of fresh milk. When they had finished this rural but eminently satisfying repast, they hurried over to the one big general store to buy a few supplies that they would need that night. It was necessary to lay in only a limited amount, as Grace's aunt Mary had thoughtfully left her cottage well stocked and had informed them that eggs, chickens and vegetables of all kinds could be had fresh from the farmers round about. Then they were off again, eyes upon that ribbon of road in front, intent upon reaching their destination before nightfall. It was not till about four o'clock that they met with their first setback. Betty had just rounded a turn in the road, horn honking for all it was worth, when she found herself almost on top of a huge farm wagon. She yelled to the driver and put on her brakes hard, hoping desperately that Mollie would not run into her from behind. Grace shrieked and covered her face with her hands. It was a narrow escape, for when the car had finally stopped there was not more than about an inch between it and the wagon in front. Luckily Mollie had been warned by the noise of the horn, and had stopped her machine just around the turn of the road. She and Mrs. Ford and Amy came running to see what the matter was. Meanwhile Betty had recovered herself and was smiling apologetically up at the frightened driver. His horses, startled by the noise and shouting had tried to bolt, and he had had all he could do to hold them in. The result was a slightly heated condition on the part of his temper. "I'm sorry," Betty was saying, her voice still tremulous from the sudden fright she had received. "I thought--" "Yes, an' I thought too," he interrupted, in a gruff, rude tone that whipped the color to her face. "It would be a heap better if some folks'd think before they done things. Durned old gasoline wagons." And, still muttering, the angry man turned and whipped up his team while the girls stared after him dumbly. _ |
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