The Motor Girls in the Mountains or The Gypsy Girl's Secret Part 20

For it was not in Cora's nature to yield tamely to despair. Her heart was naturally brave and she came of fighting stock. It was good red blood that ran in Cora's veins, and now, as the first depression pa.s.sed, it began to a.s.sert itself.

Not that she attempted longer to deceive herself. She admitted that her plight was desperate. But it was not hopeless. It never would be that, she told herself, as long as a spark of life was left. She would work, plan, struggle and never give up.

But where would she find shelter for the night? In some dense thicket? In a hollow tree? She shuddered as she thought of spending the night entirely in the open. What wild animals might be abroad, coming out, soft-footed and wary, to make their nightly kill? She knew that there were bears, wolves and lynxes in these forests, and also rattlesnakes.

Without anything approaching a weapon, what chance would she have in case of attack?

If she only had some matches! None of the beasts would dare to touch her if she were seated close to a roaring fire. They might prowl about and eye her hungrily, but no matter how famished or savage they were, they would not venture into that zone of flame.

But a fire was impossible. And as Cora realized this, she looked about her wildly, as though she expected even in the twilight to hear a stealthy footfall or see a pair of phosph.o.r.escent eyes glaring at her.

She could almost hear the pounding of her heart.

She must find shelter in the few minutes of daylight that remained. There was nothing to gain and everything to lose by staying where she was. With a little prayer on her lips, she set off, choosing no particular direction, but trusting to Providence to direct her.

Five minutes later she gave a joyous cry, and ran forward to a tiny hut that stood in a little clearing.

It was a rude cabin of a single room. Its weather-beaten and dilapidated appearance showed that it had been knocked together a long time previously, probably by some trapper or hunter. Part of the thatched roof had sagged in, leaving rifts open to the sky.

On the earthen floor within were the ashes of a fire and several rusty pans and skillets, abandoned or forgotten by the last occupant. In the center was a bunk, consisting of four uprights, to which were fastened ropes that crossed and criss-crossed each other to form a rough mattress.

A door swung loosely from the rusted hinges.

From all appearances, no one had been in the place for years. Cora rushed inside, pulled the door shut and slipped a bar that she found within into place. Then she sat down on the cord mattress and cried with thankfulness.

From all the terrors of a night spent in the open forest she was safe.

Night had fully fallen now, and the myriad voices of the forest were in full swing. It was nature's symphony on a colossal scale. Locusts, crickets and katydids sought to outdo each other. From the trees came the hoot of owls and the mournful notes of the whippoorwill.

Now that she was temporarily safe, Cora was conscious of being hungry.

She had been so absorbed in her attempt to escape from the captivity of the forest that she had not even thought of food. Now she realized that her healthy appet.i.te was clamoring for satisfaction.

Suddenly she remembered that she had slipped a tablet of chocolate in the pocket of her blouse that morning, to nibble at on the trip. She had forgotten all about it till now, and she thanked the fates for the oversight.

She drew it out, and as she did so she felt two other objects that she had not known were there. She drew them out and found that they were two cubes of compressed soup stock, wrapped in little pieces of waxed paper.

How on earth had they gotten there? Some trick played by Bess or Belle probably. They had slipped them in when she had not been looking, just for the sake of seeing her perplexed expression when she should discover them. That must be the explanation.

Her spirits rose with the discovery. If she could only have had a can of water and a fire, she could have made a delicious soup. But this was out of the question, and she had to content herself with putting one of the precious cubes in her mouth and letting it slowly dissolve. It was rather dry eating, but the nourishment was there.

She was sorely tempted to let the other cube and the tablet of chocolate take the same course, as all of them together would have made but a slender meal. But prudence spoke more loudly than appet.i.te and she crushed down the temptation. Although it taxed her resolution sorely, she thrust them back into her pocket.

She lay down on the rude mattress, although she was sure that she would not close her eyes the whole night through. But she was utterly used up by the terrible strain of the day's experience, and tired nature demanded her rights. Sleep laid its soothing fingers on her eyelids, and all her troubles were, for the time being, forgotten.

CHAPTER XV CONSTERNATION

It may have been the drowsy charm of the day, the soothing murmur of the brook, or the satisfying quality of the lunch, or perhaps a combination of the three, that made the little party under the trees so content to sit still or lie still for a considerable time after Cora left them.

"This is _dolce far niente_ for fair," murmured Jack lazily.

"I'd agree with you," drawled Paul, "if I only knew what you meant. Talk United States."

"Why, it means something like 'the happiness of doing nothing,' I believe," explained Jack.

"It seems to make a hit with you," remarked Belle.

"It does," admitted Jack brazenly.

"I declare, you boys are like so many stuffed anacondas stretched out there," observed Bess.

"We're members of the Amalgamated Order of the Sons of Rest," said Walter.

"Come along, Belle," said Bess, rising. "If we stay here much longer we'll grow to be as lazy as they are. Let's go and find Cora. She's the only real live wire in the whole party."

"You do yourselves an injustice," Jack called after them.

The girls went off in the direction that Cora had taken, keeping a sharp lookout as they went along.

"It's queer that she hasn't come back of her own accord by this time,"

remarked Belle.

"She's probably gathering flowers," replied Bess. "There are so many beautiful varieties around here." But Belle grew more uneasy every second.

"I'm going to call her," she said, and gave the familiar yodel on which Cora herself had relied in vain.

But no answer came back, and the girls looked at each other with unrest in their eyes.

"Do you think she's teasing us by pretending not to hear?" asked Belle.

"No," replied her sister, "that wouldn't be like Cora. She knows how that would worry us."

"Let's try both together," suggested Belle, and they gave out a call in unison.

Again there was no response, and thoroughly frightened now, the girls ran back to their companions.

"Oh, Jack," exclaimed Belle, "we can't find Cora!"

"What!" cried the boys, leaping to their feet.

"It's true," confirmed Bess. "We've called her again and again, and we can't get any answer."

Jack grew pale beneath his coat of tan.

"It can't be!" he cried. "You didn't call loud enough. Cora, oh, Cora!"

he shouted at the top of his voice.

Paul and Walter joined in with stentorian yells, but their united efforts had no result.