The Motor Girls at Lookout Beach: or, In Quest of the Runaways

“If our garage was not so far away,” complained Walter, returning from the fence with bleeding fingers, “we’d have a race.”

“Hanged funny, isn’t it?” commented Ed.

“As if that – person – we saw get away was a robber! Why, that was a girl – she crawled under the fence!” declared Walter.

“She may have left me a bunch of violets,” remarked Jack with a sigh, as they all three went back to the cottage, where, at the steps, Cora was waiting. “Say, sis,” her brother went on, “let’s go in and look over things now. I have an idea that our visitor came to wash up more dishes!”

“And I also have an idea that the visitor – had been here before,” replied Cora. “They – he – she, or it – knew how to open that funny catch on the screen door!”

Re-entering the house the boys made all sorts of fun of each other, for each and all of them allowing the “burglar” to escape.

“But, joking aside,” said Cora, “I know I heard the noise in the dining room, and I’m going to look there first.”

“For my violets,” whimpered Jack, with a sniffle.

“June violets!” mocked Cora.

“Well – daisies then. I saw daisies as we came out, and I’d just as soon have daisies.”

Ed and Jack held their candles high above their heads as they tiptoed into the dining room.

A bit of paper fluttered from the hanging lamp!

“More directions on ‘How to Use This Cottage!’” roared Jack. “There, didn’t I tell you! This is the second note left this way. Must have come by a homing-pigeon. Well, I’d just as soon have a dove as a bouquet of violets.”

CHAPTER XXI – BOYS AND GIRLS

A half hour later the entire party at Clover Cottage sat in the cozy dining room, engaged in earnest consultation.

The frightened Mrs. Robinson, and the timid Miss Steel, had finally consented to come indoors, after the situation had been described, punctuated and emphasized to them, although they really did want to put up at the hotel in the Circle.

The subject under discussion was the note that was found dangling from the hanging lamp. It was from Nellie Catron, and was not addressed to any one in particular.

Cora had read it, and was now re-reading it.

“If you don’t stop hounding us,” she read, “we will surely drown ourselves. We could get along if you would leave us alone, but we think that balky-horse-trick played on us the other night is about the limit.”

Cora stopped. “Now,” she said, “it is perfectly plain that a girl never wrote that note. In the first place, it is not a girl’s writing, and in the next, no girl would speak that way about putting a match under her nose!”

In spite of the seriousness of the matter every one was forced to laugh at the remark. Certainly it did seem like the old-fashioned trick used to start a balky horse – light a match under his nose.

“Then who do you suppose did write it, if not one of the girls?” asked Bess.

“Why, perhaps the driver of the automobile,” replied Cora.

“I would not bother myself about those two foolish girls, longer,” said Mrs. Robinson. She was quite exhausted from the evening’s experience, and anxious to have her cottage put in its normal condition.

“Mother, dear,” interceded Belle, “you are nervous and worried. Just let me take you upstairs, and the others can settle it all to suit themselves.”

This offer was promptly accepted, and presently the young folks were left to decide whether or not they would further endeavor to find the runaways.

“It seems to me,” said Cora, “that they need our help now, more than ever. They may have gotten in with some unscrupulous persons – and who can tell what may happen?”

“Certainly working girls do not drive autos,” put in Ed, “and I just suspicion that the manager of that show wants to keep the girls for the song business. They can sing a little, and talent is scarce just now. That is, if they really were in the show.”

“Right!” exclaimed Walter. “He would have to look around considerable to get girls to sing now, for all the schools are not closed, and the season of fun has not really begun yet. Later, I suppose there will be a regular drift this way.”

“That is why father thought we ought to come down early,” put in Bess. “He thinks it is so much pleasanter at the seaside late and early, rather than in the regular season.”

“Of course,” said Cora, “the girls are afraid of that robbery business; otherwise they would not try to keep away from us, for I am quite sure they know we would not turn them over to that aunt.”

“I wonder how they are making out on that robbery?” asked Walter. “Wasn’t there something doing the day we left Chelton?”

“Something, and then some more,” replied Jack, with a sly wink. “I expect a report from ‘headquarters’ on it very soon.”

“And poor little Andy! I do wonder what became of him?” added Cora.

“Ice cream became of him the last I saw him,” retorted Jack, “and I must say the brown part of the cone was really very becoming to him, for it matched his complexion.”

“Then,” went on Ed, “we will start on a regular search to-morrow. No use letting them slip away, when you girls feel that it is really up to you to find them. We will put up at the hotel to-night, and early to-morrow start in bunga-loafing. Then, when we get things to rights – we will be pleased – ahem – to – ahem – meet you at the pergola, ladies!”

“No, at the pavilion,” replied Bess. “I am just dying to see all the sights there. And then we will be directly in the centre of everything to start out from there.”

This obtuse remark gave the boys no end of fun. It was so like Bess – a regular “Bessie,” they declared, and, to discover its meaning Jack, Ed and Walter put their heads together literally, although Jack accused Ed of doing all the knocking, and he had to withdraw from the conference because of a rather too vigorous bump.

Bess was so vexed that she ran upstairs, and left Cora alone to lock the door after the young fellows.

“You really must go, boys,” Cora insisted. “Mrs. Robinson is going to keep model hours, and I am only a guest here.”

This was taken as the ultimatum, and reluctantly the trio left with the promise of a “big day” on the morrow.

Cora and Bess chatted a while before retiring. They had many things to talk of, but the lateness of the hour prevented a lengthy discourse.

“Mother is so worried because our maid Nettie does not come,” Bess whispered. “She is always so reliable, and so prompt, we cannot imagine what can have detained her.”

“She may be ill,” suggested Cora.

“Father would send a message in that case,” replied Bess.

“Perhaps you will get a message on the morning mail,” continued Cora. “At any rate, I would not worry about matters at home.”

With this hopeful assurance the girls said good-night, and soon closed their eyes on that day’s experience at Lookout Beach.

The “morning dawned auspiciously,” as Belle would say, but according to the boys it was a “peach of a day.” Either way the morning was delightful, clear ocean air seeming to provide both eating and drinking to those who breathed deep of its salt tanginess and ozone.

And this was the day that our boy friends were to go housekeeping!

Before any of the other patrons of the hotel were stirring Ed, Jack, and Walter were roaming about the verandas, waiting for an early breakfast. Nor did they depend upon waiting, alone, for they spoke pleasantly to the dining-room maids, who were arranging linen and flowers, and in response to entreaties the boys did get an early meal, and of the very best there was in the hotel.

The melons were exactly cold enough, the omelette was done to a turn, and had the turn, the coffee was fragrant and strong, and the hot buns “talked,” Walter declared.

Of course, in recognition of this special favor, the boys left some tokens, in coin, at their plates, but their politeness and pleasantries were even more appreciated by the young women, who must take frowns and smiles day after day, and who must ever reply to these variable conditions, with smiles and good nature.

“And now for the bungalow!” called out Ed, as the three strolled off toward the irresistible beach. “Gosh! but it was a lucky thing that we trailed after the girls. Here we are, taking a vacation that can’t be beat, and yet we just flopped right, plumb into it.”

“You may have flopped,” remarked Walter, “but it strikes me that some of us have worked for this. I hired the bungalow.”

“And we paid the rent!” from Jack.

“And us – us are going housekeeping!” added Walter.

Each of the young men contributed his share to these expletive exclamations.

They were running along in the sand, stopping occasionally to write their names, or leave an address for some mermaid.

“Wah-hoo! Wah-hoo!”

The call came from the rocks at the end of the water tongue. Presently three sprites appeared. They might have been humans, but to the boys they looked like nothing more or less than water sprites. All three happened to be gowned in white, Bess, Cora and Belle, and as they gamboled over the rocks, making their way to the water’s edge, the boys were compelled to draw in long breaths of admiration.

“’Low there!” greeted Ed. “Wait till I become Ulysses. Hey there! Circe! Not so fast else thy feet will have to follow thy heads!”

“Ulysses!” mocked Walter. “More like Jupiter! Just watch him make the water roll off of his head. He is going to dive!”

Scarcely had Walter uttered the words than Ed plunged over the end of the water tongue, and could not stop until he had actually splashed into the shallow water. The tongue ran to a fine point, and the point was not discernible from the viewpoint available to Ed.

“Whew!” he spluttered. “Circe had me that time! Now, what do you think of that for a new pair of shoes!”

By this time the girls had reached the water’s edge.

“Better stick to plain Chelton and the motor girls,” said Cora with a hearty laugh, in which the other girls joined. “You will find that the myths are dangerous brands of canned goods – won’t keep a minute after they are opened up for review!”

Ed was running the water out of his shoes. They were thoroughly soaked, and the salt effect was too well known to be speculated upon. Jack stood on his head in the deep sand – he was exulting over Ed’s “downfall.”

“Wait! Wait!” prophesied the unfortunate one. “You are not back home yet.”

“Oh, there’s the bungalow!” suddenly called out Bess, who was some paces in advance. “How I wish we girls could camp!”

“Aren’t you?” asked Walter. “What do you call that place where the notes grow on the gas jets?”

“Why, that’s a regular up-to-date cottage, including – ”

“Mother and chaperone,” added Belle. “I cannot see why the most needful adjunct does not arrive in the person of Nettie, our star maid. I had to dry dishes this morning,” and she looked gloomily at her white hands.

“That’s what is called camping,” advised Jack. “I am going to do the supper dishes, Ed will do the dinner dishes, his hands are nice and soft for grease, and Walter will ’tend to the tea – things. Don’t forget, Wallie, the tea things for yours!”

“It usually rains at night,” Walter remarked. “I don’t mind putting the things in a dishpan outside.”

“And have them dried in the sunny dew! Oh, back to nature! You wonderful back-to-nature faker!” cried Ed.

“Nature must have an awful ‘back-ache,’” finished Jack. “I would hate to have her job these days.”

“Here we are!” announced Ed, as they reached the cabin on the beach. “Isn’t this the real thing?”

“Oh, what a fine bungalow!” exclaimed Cora.

“Isn’t it splendid!” added Belle.

“My, but it is – ”

“Sweet and low!” Jack interrupted Bess. “I like that tune for a bungalow!”

They were following Jack, who had the big, old-fashioned key, for the lock had been constructed to add to the novelty of the hut.

It took some time to open the low door, but it did finally yield to the pressure of the three strong young men.

“Enter!” called Jack, bowing low to the girls, “Pray enter, pretty maidens. Are there any more at home like you?”

“There are a few, and pretty, too,” responded Cora, taking up the strain of the familiar song.

Then such antics! And such discoveries! What is more resourceful than a strange house filled with strange things, strange corners and strange – spider webs!

“Don’t open the trunk!” shrieked Belle. “There may be a – ”

“Note in it!” finished Walter. “Now, nixy on notes. I want the goods or nothing, in our house.”

Boxes were being pulled from their salty corners, hammocks were dragged out, lanterns were being “swung,” and altogether it seemed merely a question of who could upset the place most thoroughly.

“Halt! Avaunt! Ship ahoy!” yelled Jack. “If you breaks the stuff you pays fer it. This stock is inventoried.”

But the girls ran from one thing to another, regardless of dust or dampness.

“Oh, just look at the funny kettle!” exclaimed Belle. “I’m sure that is for an outdoor fire.”

“Certainly it is,” replied Ed, just as if he knew what he was talking about. “That also has to rest on Nature’s back.”

Something rumbled close to the cottage, then a shriek from outside startled them.

“What’s that!” cried Cora.

Ed pushed open the door.

“An auto in the ocean!” he yelled, dashing out of the bungalow, while the others followed as quickly as they could make after him.

Ed threw off his coat as he ran. A few paces down the beach, in the very face of the rollers, was a small runabout, the terrified occupants of which were vainly struggling to get out, into a dangerous depth of water.

“Quick, boys!” shouted Ed. “The engine is still running! Maybe we can back it up!”

CHAPTER XXII – A STRUGGLE WITH THE WAVES

When Ed, Jack and Walter ran down the sandy beach, directly into the water, and then attempted to rescue from the waves a lady and her daughter, who were in the ocean-going auto, the girls were not afraid to follow them – to the extent of walking into the water knee deep.

The helpless woman was a cripple, and when she, with an exhausting effort, managed to turn to one side and fall over the rim of the runabout seat into the water, she dropped like a stone into the surf. The daughter jumped, but in her frantic efforts to reach her mother, she crawled under the car, and was in very great danger of being lost herself.

Suddenly the helpless form of the crippled woman rose to the surface.

Jack threw his arms about the invalid, and, after shouting for Walter to help him, as the force of the rollers threatened to take him off his feet, the two young men managed to make their way safely to the sand with the unconscious form.

Meanwhile the anxious motor girls hastened to offer what assistance they might be able to give.

“Lay her down here,” said Cora, as her brother escaped from the fury of one great, dashing mountain of water, that broke into foam as it spread out over the sand.

“I think we will have to take her into the bungalow,” he replied. “But where is Ed? Look for Ed! He has not found the girl yet!”

And indeed neither Ed nor the girl could be seen!

Cora and Bess left Belle with Jack and Walter to attend to the woman, while they again stepped forward as far into the water as it seemed safe to go.

“There is Ed!” shouted Cora, and without doing more than unclasping the leather belt that confined her waist, she struck out boldly toward a point considerably farther out than the spot where the stalled car stood in the water.

“Oh, you can’t swim – that way, Cora!” called Bess. “Cora! Cora! come back!”

But with arms over her head Cora plowed her way through the waves, stroke after stroke, until she was beside Ed, who was struggling to beat back the rollers that fought for the very life of the girl he had just brought up from under the heavy blanket of smothering water.

“Mother! Mother!” wailed the girl. “Let me get – mother. She is – down – down there!”

“No – she is – safe!” gasped Cora. “Come! Let us help you – out!”

“Oh is – she safe! I – I am all right! I – can swim!”

“But you are too weak!” called Ed. “Let us help you!”

A shriek – and the girl again disappeared.

Ed went down after her, and while Cora kept in motion to sustain herself, Ed came up with the girl again in his arms.

“Take hold!” he gasped to Cora. “She is hurt and cannot swim.”

Cora, with one well trained arm, conquered the waves, while with the other she helped support the form of the almost fainting girl, as Ed, swimming in the same way, and almost carrying the girl with his free arm, made for the shore.

Forgetting everything but the danger to her friends, Bess, too, ran into the waves to meet the swimmers.

“Go back!” shouted Ed. “If you lose your footing we can’t help you.”

Scarcely had he uttered the words than Bess stumbled and fell, head foremost, into the roller that was rushing up on the shore!

Fortunately the incoming water brought Bess in – fairly tumbling her out on the sand. The same power assisted Ed and Cora to land with the strange young girl. Meanwhile Jack and Walter had made their way to the bungalow, assisting the crippled woman.

“Oh!” shrieked Bess, scrambling to her feet. “Oh, I – am smothered!”

“So are we!” Cora managed to say. “Come, Bess. Help us revive the young lady.”

“Oh I – am – all – right now – ” murmured the girl. “Only let me – get to mother!”

A sorry looking sight indeed were the motor girls – all four of them, for the strange girl should be classed with Bess, Belle and Cora, as she, too, owned a car and drove it. True she did allow it to get beyond control, and, by a sudden wrong turn of the wheel, sent it in the ocean. Still she was a motor girl for all her inexperience.

“Where are you hurt?” asked Ed, as they all stood for a moment on the beach. The strange girl was working her shoulder with evident painful effort.

“I must have injured my neck or shoulder blade when I dove under the machine,” she replied. “Something – is very stiff.”

“Let us get up to the bungalow,” suggested Cora, for the strange girl seemed like one dazed. “Your mother is there, and I hope by this time she has revived.”

Even in their discomfiture our friends could not help noticing what a pretty and pleasant mannered girl the stranger was. Every little nicety of good breeding was perfectly evident in her gentle gratitude to her rescuers, and in her earnest solicitation for her mother.

Ed led the way to the camp, while the girls followed. Belle met them at the door.

“How is she?” asked Cora, knowing how anxious was the girl about her invalid mother.

“She is quite revived,” replied Belle, “but she wants her daughter. I am so glad you have come,” hurried on Belle, without waiting for any formality. “She seems greatly worried about – Beatrice.”

“Oh, let me see her,” exclaimed the girl. “Dear, little, darling mamma,” and before the others could show the way Beatrice (for such was her name) had the crippled form clasped lovingly in her arms.

What a strange sight in the musty little bungalow! Belle was the only person who was not dripping wet – and the girls were so far from Clover Cottage, and from an auto to take them there, that there was a prospect they might dry out before fresh garments could be secured.

Beatrice looked up from the face of the trembling woman. “I wonder if we can – use the car?” she ventured. “I must get mother back to the hotel.”

“If we can get the machine out and the magneto is not short circuited from the water,” said Jack, “I don’t see why you couldn’t run it.”

“There are the life guards,” exclaimed Cora, who stood by the open door. “And they have a coil of rope.”

“Good!” declared Jack. “We will have something to pull with, and some one to help us now. Come along, boys. Girls, you will find a basket of provisions some place. There may be, in it, something of use,” and with this he ran out to the beach where like two bronzed figures the life guards stood regarding the auto in the ocean. It did not take the boys long to explain the situation, and to show what needed to be done to haul out the ocean-going car. Fastening the heavy ropes about the machine the three boys and the two men pulled – pulled – and pulled!

At first the car would not budge. Then the soft sand, in which the tires were buried, slid away some, under the urgent pressure, and finally, when the car once moved, all hands at the ropes gave a concerted pull, and the machine rolled slowly, but more and more surely, toward the edge of the shelving beach.

“Good!” exclaimed Ed. “Don’t stop! Keep it up!”

It was heavy work, but at last the auto was clear of the water.

“There!” gasped Jack, almost breathless. “That’s all to the gasolene! Now to look her over.”

Half an hour of steady work and then Ed grasped the handle and started to crank up. It was stiff at first but presently the familiar whir-r-r-r – of the motor sounded, and Walter from the seat threw in the clutch with the lever set at low speed. The magneto was all right.

The little car swung out as gracefully as if it had “never tasted salt water,” as Jack put it.

The girls were eagerly watching every move.

How thankful they were, for the woman in the bungalow had need of immediate medical attention.

In less time than it would seem possible to accomplish so much, Jack and Ed lifted the light form of the sick woman into the car, and, while Beatrice supported her mother on the right, Jack took his place at the wheel, and started off toward the hotel.

“We will send the auto back for you young ladies,” called Beatrice. “It won’t take any time to get to the hotel.”

The car once out of sight, Walter and Ed rushed into the bungalow, smashed a couple of dry boxes, and thrust them into the little stone fireplace, put a match to a bundle of paper, and then all four, who had assisted in the rescue, stood before the blaze, while steam sizzled up from the water that fell in puddles on the floor from the soaked garments.

“We did get it,” remarked Ed. “I never swam before – this way.”

“Is there anything wetter than wet clothes?” asked Cora.

“Oh, yes,” replied Bess. “I think the wettest thing I have ever found is the – bottom of the sea! Mercy, but I did think I was gone!”

“You were,” replied Walter, swishing a few drops of the too plentiful water in her eyes. “You were gone, but not forgotten, and you came back like – the famous penny!”

“Oh, you can joke!” retorted Bess. “But I tell you I was almost washed out.”

“Worse than the laundry,” teased Ed. “Well, Bess, you look a lot better. I do believe you’ve gotten thin!”