Dorothy Dale's Camping Days Part 1

Dorothy Dale's Camping Days.

by Margaret Penrose.

CHAPTER I

OUT OF A HAYRICK

"Oh, my!" exclaimed one girl.

"Oh, mine!" amended another.

"Oh, ours!" called out a third.

Then there was one awful b.u.mp, and the chorus was understood.

The old-style hay wagon, which was like a big crib, wobbled from side to side. The young ladies followed its questionable example, and some of them "sort of" lapped-over on the others.

"Dorothy Dale!" gasped one particularly sensitive member of the party, "we thought when you vouched for this affair that it would turn out all right!"

"But it hasn't turned out anything yet," replied Dorothy, "although we all came pretty near it--that time."

She clasped her hand around one of the braces of the hayrick, evidently determined that should she be "turned out" her arm would be responsible.

"That's just like you, Nita Brant," declared Tavia Travers, the latter really being manager of the occasion. "When I go to work, and hire a car like this, and especially stipulate that the ride shall be--rural--you kick on the b.u.mps."

But scarcely had she uttered these words, when a "b.u.mp" came, with neither time nor opportunity for Nita's "kick." In fact, it was remarkable that the old hay wagon did not actually carry out its threat, to roll over in the direction toward which it wobbled.

"If you young ladies care to ride any farther," called out a man from the front of the wagon, "you better be still. I ain't put no corks in the holes in the bottom of this autymobile."

He chuckled at his own joke. The holes were only too apparent to the fair occupants of the hay wagon.

"Oh, it's all right, Sam," called back Tavia, "the only thin member of the party, who might by any chance fall through a hole, is dying from b.u.mps, and we have a good hold on her. If you could see through the hay you would behold the human chain in action," and she gave Nita such a jerk that the latter declared the b.u.mps were lovely, and begged to be allowed to do her own experimenting with them.

"He laughs best who laughs least," misquoted Dorothy, as the wagon continued to jog along. "I don't exactly like the--er--contour of the hill we are approaching."

"Why, that's the real thing in hills," declared Tavia. "I planned this road purposely to 'tobog' down that hill."

"I hope the old horses are hooked up securely," remarked Rose-Mary, whom the girls called Cologne. "I don't mind making a hill, but I hate to have the wagon make it in solo. I have had a try of that sort."

"Now say your prayers, Nita," ordered Tavia, "and don't forget to repent for snibbying my chocolates."

"Oh!" screamed Edna Black, _alias_ Ned Ebony, "I do believe something is going to happen!"

"Sure thing," continued Tavia, in her joking way. "Do you suppose the girls from Glenwood ever go out without having 'something happen'?"

The old man was pulling at the reins, but his horses were starting to slide.

"Watch that fellow waltz," remarked Tavia. "Now, wouldn't he be great in a circus?"

The "waltzing horse" tried to sit down, but the farmer tugged at the lines, and otherwise objected to such conduct, and the unfortunate animal did its best to comply with the orders, which were now being flung at him, not only from the driver but from the girls in the wagon.

"Oh, hold them!" pleaded Nita.

"Let them run," suggested Tavia. "It will be over sooner!"

"Mercy!" exclaimed Dorothy, "there's a river!"

This remark was followed by a most significant pause. Evidently even Tavia saw the danger now.

And the old horses were frightened as well, for they backed, side stepped, and made every possible effort to avoid having the wagon, and its precious load, overturned into the deep river at the very side of the roadway.

"Don't yell so!" called Dorothy to the driver. "That won't help any and it hurts our ears."

"Is there no brake?" wailed Nita.

"There is likely to be one soon," Tavia a.s.sured her.

The girls were becoming more and more alarmed, and only Tavia kept up the jesting. The hill was very steep, the river fairly curled around it, and the horses grew more nervous each moment, under the strain that was being put upon them.

Deep in the bed of hay the girls from Glenwood School had ensconsed themselves. The horses were now going at such a pace that it would be rash to attempt to jump from the rick. Nita Brant actually made her way forward, and had now fairly grasped the old driver about the neck.

She felt that he must know how to save himself, at least, and she determined to "take chances" with him.

Tavia did deign to sit up and notice the rate of speed the old horses had acquired. Her dark eyes shot glances of daring admiration, and she reminded her companions that Roman chariot races were "not in it,"

just then.

Dorothy stood up bravely and agreed to call out, when they should be too near the river.

Suddenly there was a crash, and then the horses bolted!

"Something snapped!" called Dorothy. "Something is broken!"

No need to announce this, for, with the ominous sound, one of the horses broke from its traces, and the other was now dragging the old wagon along by the straps that had withstood the jerks and plunges.

"Oh, we will be killed!" screamed Nita, "There's the river!"

The girls made ready to jump.

"Don't!" begged Dorothy. "You will be dragged along in this stuff. You cannot jump through these braces."

Truly they were imprisoned by the uprights of the old-fas.h.i.+oned hayrick! But if they could not jump what could they do? Each face showed its panic of fear. If only the one remaining horse would break loose, it might not be so dangerous to fall over in all that hay!

A shriek from Nita turned all eyes to her. "The man!" she screamed.

"He has fallen--under the wheels!"

By a single impulse Dorothy and Tavia grasped one of the rungs of the rick, and they threw their full weight on it until it snapped--then broke!

"Quick!" cried Dorothy. "Jump after me!"