The Motor Girls in the Mountains: or, The Gypsy Girl's Secret

“What’s the matter with making the car do its share of the work?” asked Cora. “We’ll fasten a rope to each one of the logs and with you men guiding them we can drag them to one side of the road.”

The plan met with instant approval and in a very few minutes the road was clear.

“Good idea, sis,” said Jack approvingly. “Now we’ll bundle these tools into the cars and go to Camp Kill Kare in style.”

CHAPTER IX
THE “WATER SPRITE”

The next morning dawned clear and beautiful. The storm of the day before had washed the dust from plants and trees, and seemed to have washed the very air itself, for it was as clear as crystal and had a tonic quality that set the blood to dancing.

Cora had awakened early and stolen to her window, where she sat entranced by the beauty of the view. But she was not allowed to enjoy it long, for there came a thundering knock on the door that made her jump.

“Come along, you sleepyheads!” sounded Jack’s voice from outside. “It’s too fine a morning to waste it in sleep.”

“Let us now be up and doing!” chanted Walter.

“The day is one to stir the sluggard blood!” added Paul.

“You boys just trot along,” sang out Cora defiantly. “We’re going to take our time.”

“You always do,” retorted Jack. “If time were money you girls would be millionaires.”

“Let them rave,” remarked Belle, as she opened her sleepy eyes.

“I’m going to have another forty winks,” said Bess, as she turned over on her pillow.

“No, you’re not!” declared Cora, as the boys went clattering down the stairs. “It’s a perfectly gorgeous day, girls, and it’s simply a crime to waste it in bed. The view from these windows is enough to make you gasp. Besides, we don’t want to keep breakfast waiting.”

Bess still protested, but yielded to the laughing threat of being dragged from bed if she did not get up of her own accord, and the girls hurried with their dressing.

They found the boys already at the table, making huge inroads on the food.

“You see we’re waiting for you,” remarked Jack, as he passed his plate for another helping of bacon and eggs.

“Yes,” replied Cora, “I see you are.”

“You’re a gallant lot!” reproached Belle.

“We didn’t think you’d get up till noon,” defended Walter.

“Besides,” added Paul, “we’ve heard of something that makes us want to hustle.”

“What is that?” asked Bess with lively interest, as the girls took their seats.

“Aunt Betty tells us that there is an old motor boat down on the lake,” replied Jack. “It hasn’t been used much for the last two or three years, and it’s probably a good deal out of repair. We thought we might be able to tinker it up and take you girls out for a sail on the lake.”

“You see, we’re always thinking of how we can give you girls a good time,” observed Paul.

“Of course you weren’t expecting to have a good time yourselves,” mocked Cora.

“I didn’t know that there was a lake so close at hand,” said Belle delightedly.

“Hadn’t I told you about it?” said Cora. “We’ve had so much to talk about that I must have omitted that from my description. But there is a beautiful mountain lake not more than five minutes’ walk from here. I didn’t know that there was a motor boat anywhere round, though. I’m wild to have a look at it.”

“Don’t spend too long a time at the table then,” admonished Jack.

“That’s pretty good, coming from you,” countered Belle. “But don’t worry. You boys live to eat, while we eat to live.”

“None of you seems to be wasting away,” retorted Jack. “But hurry along now and all will be forgiven. We fellows have got to go out and see if Joel has the tools we’ll need for tinkering up the boat.”

They excused themselves and went out, while the girls, who were all agog with the new pleasure promised them, hurried through their meal and were ready for the trip when the boys returned.

A few minutes of brisk walking brought them to the borders of a lake whose blue waters shimmered in the morning sun. An exclamation of delight broke from them as they gazed upon its beauty.

The lake stretched for about four miles in one direction and was perhaps a mile and a half in width. Near the center of it they could see a small island that appeared to be heavily wooded.

Not far from where they were standing was a small boathouse with a pier projecting into the lake. Near the end of the little dock a motor boat was moored.

“There’s the boat!” cried Jack, and they all made a rush for it.

“The Water Sprite,” read Cora from the partly effaced letters on the stern.

“It has good enough lines,” said Walter, as he ran his eyes over the boat, “but it seems as though it had been pretty well neglected.”

“The owner never used it much,” explained Jack. “He didn’t care much for the water, and when he was here spent most of his time in hunting on land.”

“Looks pretty much like junk to me,” admitted Paul, as he took in the dilapidated appearance of the boat.

The others could not help agreeing that Paul’s criticism seemed justified.

“Doesn’t look as though she’d be worth taking much trouble for, does she?” remarked Jack doubtfully.

“Well, you wouldn’t say that she’d just come from a motor-boat show,” observed Paul; “but just the same she may be a well made boat and capable of speed too if she’s put in decent condition. Of course she looks like a total loss now, but it’s wonderful what a little work will do. Let’s take a look at the engine anyway.”

They boarded the little craft and removed a tarpaulin that had been spread over the engine. The boys then proceeded to give the latter a thorough inspection, first, however, bailing out the water that had collected in the bottom of the boat.

“Say, fellows!” exclaimed Jack, as his eyes lit on the manufacturer’s name plate, “this is a good little motor, no doubt of that. You know that any engine these people put out is bound to be first class, don’t you?”

“That’s true enough,” agreed Paul, “but the best engine ever built can be ruined by carelessness and neglect.”

“Yes,” assented Walter, “but there may not be so much the matter with this chugger after all. First thing to do is to turn the old engine over and see how it sounds.” He had already put in some oil and gasoline.

“A fine idea,” panted Jack after applying all his strength to the flywheel without result. “The trouble is that it won’t turn at all.”

“Here,” said Walter, taking it from his hand, “let me try. Only you mustn’t mind if I pull the whole engine out of the boat. I’m mighty apt to if I really let myself go, you know.”

“Listen to Samson talking!” gibed Cora.

“Go ahead,” said Jack. “Look out for flying splinters, Paul. Sampson is going to tear things wide open.”

“He’s mighty strong,” mocked Paul. “He doesn’t ask you to prove it. He admits it.”

There were no flying splinters, however, for in spite of all Walter’s exertions, the engine remained immovable.

“Well, that proves that she’s a good solid boat to stand the strain,” grinned Walter, at last giving over the attempt.

 
“The muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands,”
 

jeered Cora.

“Guess there’s nothing to do,” continued Walter, “but take the engine down and see what’s wrong. It feels as though the parts had grown together.”

“Must be if you couldn’t move it,” said Jack scathingly. “But let’s get busy, fellows. I suppose the first thing to do is to get the cylinders off.”

They fell to with a will, and soon had the smaller fittings dismounted. The motor was of the two-cylinder, two-cycle type, and according to the makers’ plate was rated at six horse power. The exterior was in fairly good condition, only a few patches of rust showing here and there where the paint had been chipped off, leaving the metal exposed.

With some difficulty, the boys got the cylinders off. As they removed the front one, Jack gave a long whistle.

“I’ll bet there’s the cause of the trouble,” he said, pointing to the front cylinder.

The others examined it and Paul remarked:

“Guess it’s a case of broken piston ring, eh, Jack?”

“No doubt of it,” was the response.

And indeed this would have been plain even to the most inexperienced eye. One of the grooves cut in the piston to receive a compression ring was packed with broken bits of metal and metallic dust, many of the fragments having actually been reduced to powder.

“That’s a bad job,” remarked Walter, shaking his head. “I wonder if the cylinder itself is damaged much.”

“Easy to find out,” said Jack. “Let’s have a look.”

They were relieved to find that the cylinder was very little scored, considering the condition of the piston.

“Looks to me as if a new set of piston rings would be necessary,” judged Paul.

“That’s what,” replied Jack. “But it would probably take a week to get them from the manufacturers.”

Cora gave a little exclamation of dismay.

“And wait all that time before we can have a ride in the Water Sprite?” she asked.

“Unless you can wave a magic wand and make the pistons come running,” said Jack.

“I’m going to rummage through these lockers,” declared Cora, jumping up and going into the little cabin. “Perhaps there are some spare parts on hand.”

A moment later she gave an exclamation of triumph.

“Here they are!” she cried, holding up a pair of the much desired rings.

“Oh, I’m so glad!” exclaimed Bess.

“Takes a woman to do things,” said Belle in a superior way.

The boys looked a little sheepish, but at the same time delighted.

“She’s a fairy all right,” conceded Walter.

“You’re the real thing, sis,” beamed Jack, as he held out his hand for the rings. “And now for the dirty work.”

They adjusted the rings and overhauled the rest of the engine, which proved to be in fairly good condition. There were no radical defects, and by dint of hard work they soon had the entire machinery in what seemed to be good working order.

“There,” panted Jack, as he straightened up, “I guess we’re some little machinists, all right.”

“We ought to be able to get a union card,” said Walter.

“Toil has no terror for us!” declared Paul, striking an attitude.

“Those boys just hate themselves, don’t they?” laughed Bess.

“They’ve worked pretty hard – for them,” admitted Cora. “And as a special reward, boys,” she added generously, “we’ll let you take us for our first ride in the Water Sprite this afternoon.”

CHAPTER X
SPRINGING A LEAK

“You do us too much honor,” said Paul, making a low bow in his best Chesterfieldian manner.

“I know that perfectly well,” replied Cora; “but I happen to feel in a condescending mood.”

“Good gracious, girls!” exclaimed Belle, consulting her watch, “do you know that it’s nearly twelve o’clock? We’ve been working here all the morning.”

“We’ve been working!” repeated Jack with marked emphasis. “I can see that you’re all out of breath.”

“‘Those also serve who only stand and wait.’”

“That’s the kind of job I’d like,” said Walter, wiping the perspiration from his face.

“No chance,” opined Paul. “The girls have got in ahead of us.”

“Well, I notice you wouldn’t have been very far ahead if Cora hadn’t found those rings,” retorted Bess.

“You boys are well enough where only muscle is concerned,” said Belle patronizingly, “but when it comes to a matter of brains you’re not in the same class with us.”

They hurried back to the house, where they found a substantial meal ready for them. Then the girls put on their boating togs, and they started out to try the sailing qualities of the rejuvenated Water Sprite.

The boys cast off the moorings, and Cora, who could run a boat as well as any one, took her place at the wheel. Jack stayed near the engine, where he could keep an eye on its workings, and the rest disposed themselves wherever they could be most comfortable.

There was hardly any wind blowing and the water was scarcely stirred by a ripple. It was an ideal day for boating and they were prepared to enjoy it to the full.

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 sex,” hazarded Walter.

“And see how fast she’s going,” said Bess, ignoring the gibe. “We’re half a mile from shore already.”

“Let’s hug the shore 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 space 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 shore 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 shore?”

“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 shore. 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 shore 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.

He looked at the party with a whimsical smile.

“Why, it’s Mr. Morley!”

“So it is,” echoed Bess and Belle.

“The very same,” smiled the newcomer. “And you are the young ladies that came to my help the other day when I ran my car into a tree. Who would have supposed that we would meet again so soon and under such different circumstances?”

He shook hands heartily with the girls, and then was introduced to the boys.

“You’ve had something like a shipwreck, I see,” he said, as he looked at the boat.

“Nothing very serious,” replied Jack. “Although it might have been, if we’d had much farther to go to reach shore.”

“It’s too bad,” returned Mr. Morley. “However, I’m very glad it wasn’t worse. But come up to my cabin. It’s only a little way from here. You can build a fire outside and stand about it until your clothes are dry. I live rather simply here, but I can offer you some refreshments. After that, we’ll see what we can do toward patching up your boat.”

He led the way, chatting with Cora, and the rest followed. A few minutes’ walk brought them to the cabin. It was a small, one-story structure, with three rooms. One served as a living room, dining room and kitchen combined, while the others consisted of a sleeping room and a room where Mr. Morley kept his specimens.

“‘A poor place, but mine own,’” quoted their host, with a smile. “I spend most of my summers here looking for specimens. The rest of the year I teach botany in a college. Now I’m going to bring out some cakes and tea and put the young ladies in charge, and we’ll have a regular afternoon tea.”

While the girls fluttered about inside, preparing the refreshments, Mr. Morley and the boys built a fire a little way from the door, and in a little while the youths were dry and comfortable again.

It was a gay party that a little later sat around the table where the girls had spread the refreshments. Mr. Morley seemed genuinely glad to have them with him, and the boys and girls were in the highest spirits. What might have been a disaster had developed into a lark.

While the girls were clearing up the things later, their host went down with the boys to the boat.

He had brought along some boards and oakum, together with necessary tools. His own rowboat enabled them to board the Water Sprite without getting another wetting. Once there, the boys took off their shoes, rolled their trousers to the knees and set to work. In less than an hour they had repaired the damage. Then they bailed out the water and watched anxiously to see if any more came in.

But their anxiety was needless. The work had been well done, and the boat floated high and dry on the water.

CHAPTER XI
CORA MAKES A DISCOVERY

The boys, followed by Mr. Morley, retraced their steps to the cabin and told the good news.

“And now,” said Cora, “I suppose we must go. It was awfully good of you, Mr. Morley, to take us shipwrecked travelers in and treat us so nicely.”

The others echoed this sentiment, but Mr. Morley put in a vehement disclaimer.

“It’s nothing compared to what you did for me the other day,” he declared. “And I can’t tell you how much good it has done me to have you young people here. It’s a long time since I’ve had youth in my home. But that’s my own fault. I drove it – ”

He brought himself up with a sharp turn.

“Perhaps you’d like to take a look at my specimens before you go,” he remarked tentatively.

“We’d dearly love to,” replied Cora.

Mr. Morley led the way into the specimen room.

“Just now I’m making a collection of vampires,” he remarked.

“No accounting for tastes,” whispered Walter to Paul, in a voice too low to be heard by their host.

“Do you keep them in a cage?” asked Jack.

Mr. Morley looked up in surprise.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Why,” replied Jack, “you spoke of vampires, and I thought you meant vampire bats. They’re the only kind of vampires I know anything about.”

“I was referring to the plant this leaf was taken from,” smiled their host, as he held it up for them to see.

It was a long, rounded leaf that seemed to be covered with tiny hairs, on which glistened something that resembled honey and gave forth a fragrant odor. On looking more closely they saw what appeared to be fragments of small insects.

“We call it the sun-dew,” explained Mr. Morley. “It’s common enough, and you’ve seen it in the fields many a time. But instead of living on elements drawn from the soil, it feeds on flies and other insects. They are attracted by the honey that it spreads out temptingly to bring them within its reach. But as soon as they light on it, the leaf tightens around them and crushes them to death. Then it eats them at leisure. That’s why it’s called a ‘vampire.’”

“But,” objected Cora, “any one would think from that that the plant had intelligence and knew just what it was doing, just as an animal does when it hunts for prey.”

“Exactly,” agreed Mr. Morley. “Who are we to say that plants don’t have intelligence? What proof is there in nature that they don’t suffer and enjoy, feel and plan, as men and animals do, only on a lower plane? We humans are too conceited. We assume that we possess intelligence almost exclusively. We grant some to animals, though we slur even that by calling it only instinct. But we’ve been inclined to deny it altogether to plants.

“Now I don’t agree with this at all. And there are lots more of the newer school of naturalists who feel just as I do about it. Wherever there is life there is intelligence. Plants can be cunning and patient and cruel and deceitful. If they can’t get enough of one kind of food, they hunt for another. When men and animals do these things or show these qualities, we admit that it is the result of thought. What is it, then, that makes a plant do precisely similar things with similar ends in view?

“But there,” he interrupted himself with a smile, “one might almost think that I was in my lecture room, talking to a class! It’s a hobby of mine, and I forget sometimes that others may not be so interested in it as I am.”

“But we are interested, keenly interested,” protested Cora.

“I never thought of plants in that way before,” declared Bess.

“It’s opened up an entirely new way of looking at things,” said Paul.

“Are there many kinds of vampire plants?” asked Belle.

“Lots of them,” replied Mr. Morley. “And they use all kinds of devices – hooks, claws, poison, honey, snares and shocks.”

“Desperate characters,” whispered Walter to Jack.

“Worse than gunmen,” murmured Jack.

“There, for instance,” continued their host, “is the ‘devil’s snare’ that is found in South America. It has long, snaky tentacles that sweep the ground for many yards in every direction, for all the world like the long suckers of the devil-fish. It gobbles up anything that comes within its reach, insects, mice and larger animals. Once it gets its deadly grip on a victim, it keeps on tightening and tightening until it chokes the life out of it. It has been known to grasp and kill a good-sized dog.”

“The horrid thing!” exclaimed Bess with a little shudder.

“The S. P. C. A. ought to get after it,” laughed Walter.

“There are plants, too,” continued their mentor, “that show intelligence by the way they adapt themselves to changed conditions. The bladderwort, for example, used to live on insects. Perhaps it got a hint somewhere that it could do better on water than on land. At any rate, it became a water plant. It lies just under the surface and imitates the wide-open mouth of a mother fish. The little minnows swim into it to avoid their enemies and as soon as they’re well inside, the mouth closes and the plant regales itself with a fish dinner.

“Then there are the cannibal plants. There are hundreds of trees that have the life juices sucked from them by the parasitic plants that twine around them until they give up the ghost.”

“Just as the trusts do to the common people,” observed Jack.

“Well,” said Cora, drawing a long breath, “I’ve always known that nature was cruel, but I’ve never connected that idea with plants.”

“Cruel everywhere,” assented Mr. Morley, “from man, creation’s crown, to plants, creation’s base.”

They looked with a new interest and a heightened respect at the other specimens he showed, and the time passed so quickly that they were startled, on glancing out of doors, to see how rapidly dusk was coming on.

“When I get to mooning along on my pet theories, I never know when to stop,” said Mr. Morley apologetically.

“It’s been a real treat to listen to you, Mr. Morley,” said Cora with her winning smile.

“Truth is not only stranger but more interesting than fiction,” smiled Belle.

They separated with cordial good wishes and a hearty invitation to Mr. Morley to visit them at Camp Kill Kare. He stood at the cabin door, watching them as they hurried down to their boat.

“This is the end of a perfect day,” sang Bess gaily, as they stepped on board the Water Sprite, which the boys had brought around to the little dock at which Mr. Morley’s rowboat was tied.

“It certainly has been a crowded one,” said Belle.

“Isn’t Mr. Morley an unusual man?” asked Cora. “I’m more and more convinced that there’s a mystery about him.”

“He’s a fine chap,” said Jack, “but I didn’t notice anything especially mysterious about him.”

“That’s because you’re a man,” said Cora.

“I can’t help belonging to that despised sex, can I?” inquired Jack in an injured tone.

“I suppose it’s your misfortune rather than your fault,” dimpled Bess.

“What do you suppose he meant when he said ‘I drove it,’ and then stopped so suddenly?” asked Belle thoughtfully.

“Probably thinking of his car when he drove it into a tree,” remarked Jack flippantly.

If he had not been hardened, he would have succumbed before the exasperated glare of three pairs of girlish eyes.

“Better get in out of the wet, Jack,” counseled Paul.

“Come over here and I’ll protect you with my life,” adjured Walter.

“Don’t pay any attention to those idiots, girls,” advised Cora. “We’ll wait until we get by ourselves and can talk sense without being interrupted.”

The Water Sprite, as though repenting of its lapses that afternoon, was now on its good behavior, and she kept “dry as a bone” on the short passage from the island.

They found Mrs. King a little worried at their late coming, and she threw up her hands at the story of their narrow escape from sinking.

“You’ve had a lively brood wished on you, Aunt Betty,” laughed Cora, as she threw her arm affectionately around her aunt’s waist.

“I can see that already,” was the reply. “My only comfort is that you girls seem to bear a charmed life.”

“Call it ‘charming,’” said Walter gallantly, “and we boys will agree with you.”

They had some music after dinner, but as all were tired from their strenuous day they went to their rooms early.

“Girls,” exclaimed Cora, as soon as they were alone, “I’ve found out whom that gypsy girl resembles! It’s Mr. Morley!”