The Motor Girls in the Mountains or The Gypsy Girl's Secret Part 14

The boat darted away from the dock as though it shared the jubilant spirits of the party, and Jack observed with great satisfaction that the engine was chugging away without missing a beat.

"She's working like a dream," he announced.

"And look at the way she minds the wheel," said Cora. "She yields to the slightest touch. It's no trouble at all to handle her."

"That's where she differs from most members of the fair s.e.x," hazarded Walter.

"And see how fast she's going," said Bess, ignoring the gibe. "We're half a mile from sh.o.r.e already."

"Let's hug the sh.o.r.e and go all the way around the lake. We may be able to pick out some splendid spots to go picnicking in."

"And on the way back let's land on the island," suggested Bess. "I wonder if anybody lives there."

"Joel told me that there was a man who had a cabin over there and comes up here almost every summer," replied Jack. "He lives all alone, and spends his time in collecting plants and flowers. Joel can't understand that. Thinks he's a bug. I suppose he's a botanist or something of the kind."

"Well, he ought to have plenty of chances on that island," remarked Cora as her eye took in the luxuriant verdure of the place.

"Perhaps he wouldn't care to have us break in upon him," observed Belle.

"He may be of the crank or hermit type."

"Or a woman-hater," laughed Bess.

"If he is, you'll cure him," declared Walter gallantly.

"I guess he won't object," said Paul. "Anyway, he doesn't own the island.

He just camps out on it, and we have as much right there as he has."

They had quickly reached the further end of the lake, and kept up a running fire of delighted exclamations at the beauties that nature had flung about this favored place with reckless prodigality.

"If a painter could only put it on canvas," sighed Cora.

"He never could!" exclaimed Belle. "The best he could do would be a poor imitation."

Suddenly Bess drew up her foot.

"Oh," she exclaimed, "my foot is soaking wet!"

Jack looked at the bottom of the boat.

"It's a little water that's seeped in," he remarked. "We'll get the bailer from the cabin locker and throw it out."

Walter bestirred himself and got the bailer. But after he had used it for a minute, a puzzled look came into his face.

"It's coming in faster than I can get it out," he said.

Belle uttered a little cry, and Bess became a trifle pale.

The other boys crowded around Walter.

"It is coming in pretty fast for a fact," muttered Paul.

"We'll all have to get at it," said Jack soberly.

There was only one bailer in the boat, and there was nothing else in the shape of a can or pail.

"Take off your sweaters," said Jack to the boys. "Soak up the water and wring them out over the side of the boat. Lively now!"

A moment more and the boys were working like beavers.

"It must have been the straining of the engine," explained Jack. "It's started a board in the old tub. Work like the mischief, boys!"

Bess and Belle were huddled together in alarm, but they said nothing to betray the panic that was growing upon them.

Cora's lips were pressed a little more tightly together and her cheeks were a trifle pale. But her eyes were glowing like stars, and were full of courage and determination.

She gave the wheel a turn and headed straight for the island, which was the nearest land.

The water continued to gain, and as the boat settled a trifle in consequence of the added weight, its progress was necessarily slower.

The boys were working frantically. Bess and Belle would have gladly helped, but in the narrow limits of the boat they would only have been in the way.

The open s.p.a.ce in the bottom of the boat was yawning now. Jack doubled up his sweater and thrust it into the opening, while the others continued to bail.

Still the water gained, and the boat was perceptibly settling. But they were near the island now, and Cora turned the bow toward a low, shelving part.

A moment more and, with a sensation of infinite relief, they felt the bow slide into the mud of the bottom. Jack leaped to the engine and stopped its chugging. Then all took a long breath and looked at each other.

The faces of the boys were white and in the eyes of the girls there was more than a suspicion of anxiety.

"Land ho!" exclaimed Jack, giving his sister a hug.

"Castaways!" cried Paul dramatically.

"But not on a desert island, thank heaven!" said Bess.

"But how are we to get on sh.o.r.e without getting wet?" queried Belle, a lesser anxiety seizing her, now that the greater one was dispelled.

"Can you ask that," said Walter reproachfully, "when there are three husky sailors here who ask nothing better than to carry you to the sh.o.r.e?"

"It's only a foot deep near the bow," declared Jack. "Over we go, boys,"

and he set the example, that was instantly followed by his comrades.

Each took one of the girls and landed her safely on the sh.o.r.e. With the exception of Bess' wet feet, the girls were almost as fresh and unruffled as ever, but the boys with their dripping trousers clinging closely round them presented a comical picture.

"That's right, laugh at us!" said Walter, as the girls looked at them with mirth in their eyes. "Here we risk our lives for you and that's all the reward we get. Suppose a shark had bitten us when we were wading to the sh.o.r.e with our cargo of beauty. Suppose--"

But his diatribe was interrupted by the appearance of a man who stepped from the trees that came down near to the water's edge.