The Outdoor Girls of Deepdale Part 4

About Deepdale were several thriving farming communities, for the slightly rolling land was well suited to cultivation. The town, and the outlying farms filled a sort of valley, girt around with hills of sufficient size and height to be called mountains, at least by the local inhabitants who were proud of them.

There were valleys in these mountains, some large and others merely glens, though Shadow valley, one of the most beautiful, was only of medium size. It was a favorite spot for excursionists who wanted a change from the water route, there being a sort of summer resort and picnic ground at one end of this valley.

The other end was not so often visited. It had once formed the estate of a very wealthy man, who built a large mansion there. But, on his death, the property was contested for in the courts by several heirs and for years had been tied up by litigation. So the mansion became deserted.

Of sufficient importance to have a railroad, as well as a steamer line, Deepdale was well provided with transportation facilities.

True, the railway was only a branch one, but it connected with the main road running to New York, and this was enough for the people of Deepdale.

The town also boasted of a paper, the _Weekly Banner_, and there was a good high and grammar school in town, besides numerous stores, and other establishments, including a moving picture theatre--this last rather an innovation.

Our girls--I call them ours, for it is with their fortunes that we shall be chiefly concerned--our girls lived near each other on the outskirts of the town.

Betty and her parents occupied an old-fas.h.i.+oned stone house, that had once been the manor of a farm. But it was old-fas.h.i.+oned outwardly only, for within it was the embodiment of culture and comfort. It set well back from the street, and a lane of elms led from the front porch to the thoroughfare. Back of the house was an old-fas.h.i.+oned garden, likewise well-shaded, and there were the remains of an apple orchard, some of the trees still bearing fruit.

On the other side of the street, and not far off, was the home of Grace--a modern brick house of tasteful design. It had ample grounds about it, though being rather new could not boast of such n.o.ble trees as those that added dignity to the old stone house.

Amy Stonington lived in a large, rambling wooden structure, too large for the needs of the family, but artistic nevertheless. It was just around the corner from the residence of Betty, and the yards of the two girls joined---if you can call the big orchard of Betty's home a "yard."

Mollie's home was near the river, about ten minutes' walk from that of the other three girls. It was a wooden house of a dull red that mingled well in tone with the green gra.s.s and the spreading trees that surrounded it.

And now I believe I have mentioned my princ.i.p.al characters, and places, though others will be introduced to you from time to time as our story progresses.

So on this pleasant spring day, for one of the few times, Amy was not brooding on the subject that had given her such uneasiness of late.

Nor were the other girls concerned with anything save the finding of the five hundred dollar bill, which absorbed everything else for the time being.

"Who could have lost it?" wondered Mollie.

"There aren't so many persons in Deepdale who can afford to throw away money like this," added Amy.

"It wasn't thrown away--it was lost," declared Betty, "and we must find the owner if we can."

"Especially after such a pathetic message," said Grace. "Poor fellow! His last big bill!"

"What makes you think it was a _man_?" asked Amy.

"That isn't a girl's writing," insisted Grace.

"Fine! You'll be a detective if you keep on--or should I say detectivess?" asked Mollie, with a laugh.

"I wonder what that note means?" inquired Mollie.

"Why," said Betty, "it seems to indicate that some young man ran through a fortune--or lost it--and had only five hundred dollars left.

He was going to try to redeem his standing or wealth with this, and probably wrote this to remind himself not to fail. I used to have a habit of leaving my room untidy, and Daddy suggested once that I write a notice to myself, and pin it where I would see it as I came out each morning. I did, and I cured myself. This young fellow probably tried the same system."

"What makes you think he is _young_?" Grace wanted to know.

"I'm following your line of reasoning--no elderly man would do anything like this--write such a strange memorandum to himself. I'm sure he is young."

"And--good-looking?" asked Amy, smiling.

"Let us hope so--if we are to return the money to him in person,"

suggested Mollie.

"Well, the best thing to do is to put that in some secure place, Betty,"

advised Grace. "Has your father a safe at home?"

"Yes."

"Then let him keep it, and we can put an advertis.e.m.e.nt in the _Banner_.

'Found--a sum of money. Owner can have same by proving property, and paying for this advertis.e.m.e.nt.' How is that?"

"Wouldn't you ask for a reward?" came from Mollie.

"The idea--of course not!"

"But he might _give_ us one," suggested Amy, "without being asked."

Then talking excitedly about the find, and speculating on how it could have come in the road, the girls accompanied Betty to her house. Mrs.

Nelson was duly astonished at the news, and agreed with the chums that the best plan was that suggested by Grace. Accordingly, when Mr. Nelson came home, the bill and the queer attached note, were put in his safe.

Then an advertis.e.m.e.nt was telephoned to the paper.

"And now let's talk about our Camping and Tramping Club," proposed Betty, for her three chums had called that evening after supper.

"I spoke to mamma about it," said Mollie, "and she said she thought I could go. But we must stay with friends, or relatives, at night; she won't let me put up at a hotel."

"Of course not!" cried Betty--"none of us will. Now my plan is this: Papa and mamma have a number of relatives living in distant towns, but all in this vicinity. Probably you girls have some also. Now, why couldn't we arrange a tour that would take us on a circuit say of--two hundred miles--"

"Two hundred miles!" came in a horrified chorus.

"Why, yes, that's not much. We can take three weeks to it, and that's only a little over ten miles a day--not counting Sundays, of course. If we can't walk ten miles a day--"

"Oh, that's not so bad," admitted Amy.

"I can easily do that," a.s.sented Mollie.

"What about our meals?" asked Grace.

"Can't you carry enough chocolate fudge to do between morning and evening?" asked Amy, with a laugh.

"I've got that part all planned," began Betty. "Or at least I have an idea about it. We can get breakfast and supper at our friends' or relatives' and at noon we can go to restaurants, or to houses along the way. Why, we can even take a little camping outfit with us, and make coffee on the road, carrying sandwiches, too."

"Fine!" cried Amy and Mollie.

"Make chocolate--not coffee," begged Grace.

"Well, chocolate then," a.s.sented Betty.

"I have a couple of aunts somewhere out Bessingford way," spoke Amy.