Betty Gordon at Boarding School - Alice Emerson
"Silly things!" dimpled Betty. "There's plenty of snow for a good coast.
Take me, Bob?"
"Well, if you'll come on over where there's a decent hill," Bob
assented. "With only two on the bob, we want to get some grade. Here,
I'll stick your sled in between these two trees and you can get it when
we come back."
Together they pulled the heavy bobsled up the hill and crossed over the
hollow, taking a wagon trail that led up over another hill.
"It's a long walk," admitted Bob, panting. "But wait till you see the
ride we're going to get."
They reached the top of Pudding Hill presently, and Betty looked down
over a rolling expanse of white country covered closely by a lowering
gray sky that looked, she said to herself, like the lid of a soup kettle.
"Bully coast!" exclaimed Bob with satisfaction, swinging the bodsled into
position. "All ready, Betsey?"
"Just a minute," begged Betty, with a delightful little shiver of
excitement as she tucked in her skirts and pulled her soft hat further
over her eyes. "Ye-s, now I guess I'm fixed."
They started. The wind sang in their ears and sharp particles of snow
flew up to sting their faces. Zip! they had taken one hill, and the
gallant bobsled gathered momentum. Betty clung tightly to Bob.
"All right?" he shouted, without turning his head.
"It's fine!" shrieked Betty. "It takes my breath away, but I love it!"
The bobsled seemed fairly to leap the series of gentle slopes that lay at
the foot of the long hill, and for every rise Betty and Bob received a
bump that would have jarred the bones of less enthusiastic sportsmen.
Then, suddenly, they were in the hollow, and the next thing they knew
Betty lay breathless in a soft snow bank and Bob found himself flat on
his back a few feet away. The sled had overturned with them.
"Betty! are you hurt?" cried Bob, scrambling to his feet. "Here, don't
struggle! I'll have you out in a jiffy."
He pulled her from the bank of snow and helped her shake her garments
free from the white flakes.
"I'm not hurt a bit, not even scratched," she assured him. "Wasn't that a
spill, though? The first thing I knew I was sailing through space, and
I'm thankful I landed in soft snow. Where's the sled? Oh, over there!"
"Want to quit?" asked Bob, as she began to help him right the overturned
sled. "We can walk over to where we left your sled, you know, Betty."
"And miss the coast?" said Betty scornfully. "Well, not much, Bob
Henderson. It takes more than one upset to make me give up coasting."
She seated herself behind Bob again, and with a touch of his foot they
began the descent of the second hill. The snow had melted more here, and
in some spots the covering was very thin. Bob found the task of steering
really difficult.
"I don't think much of this," he began to say, but at the second word the
bobsled struck a huge root, the riders were pitched forward, and for one
desperate moment they clung to the scrubby undergrowth that bordered what
they supposed was the side of the road.
Then their hold loosened and they fell.
Slipping, sliding, tumbling, rolling, a confused sound of Bob's shouts in
her ears, Betty closed her eyes and only opened them when she found that
she was stationary again. She had no idea of where she was, nor of how
far she had fallen.
"Bob?" she called timidly at first, and then in terror. "Bob!"
"Look behind you," said Bob's familiar voice.
Betty turned her head, and there was Bob, grinning at her placidly. His
cap was gone and several buttons were ripped bodily from his mackinaw,
but he did not seem to be injured and when he pulled Betty to her feet,
that young person found that she, too, was unhurt.
"What happened?" she asked. "Where are we?"
"The bobsled balked," explained Bob cheerfully. "Guess it knew where we
were heading for better than I did. Anyway, you and I took a double
header that was a beauty. If you want to see where we came down, just
look up there."
Betty followed the direction of his finger and saw a trail gashed in the
snow, a trail that twisted and turned down the steep, forbidding sides
of a frowning gorge. Was it possible that they had fallen so far and
escaped injury?
"Know where you are?" asked Bob, watching her.
Betty shook her head.
"I must have been away off the road," explained Bob. "Betsey, you and I
are standing at the bottom of Indian Chasm."
CHAPTER XXV
THE TREASURE
Indian Chasm!
Betty stared at Bob in dismay. Afterward she confessed that her first
thought was of Indians who might capture them.
"Indian Chasm," repeated Bob firmly. "Come on, Betty, we mustn't stand
here. If you once get cold, there's no way to warm you up. We must walk,
and try to find a way out."
Betty stumbled after him, her mind a bewildered maze. She could not yet
grasp the explanation that Bob, turned about by their spill in the
hollow, had followed an old trail instead of the hill road. The trail had
led straight to the border of the chasm.
Bob ploughed along, head bent, a heavy sense of responsibility keeping
him silent. He knew better than Betty the difficulties that in all
probability lay before them.
He glanced back at Betty, wearily toiling after him.
"Want to rest a moment?" he suggested. "Sit on that rock till you begin
to feel chilly."
Betty accepted the suggestion gratefully. She was very tired and she was
hungry. Her rubbers had been torn on the stones she had encountered in
her fall and her shoes were damp.
"What a funny rock," she said idly.
It was a huge slab that had once been a part of another huge rock
which still stood upright. Some force of nature had slit the two like
a piece of paper--from the looks of it, the break was a recent
one--and had forced a section outward, making it look like a wall
about to topple over.
Rested a little, Betty rose and walked around to the other side of the
rock on which she sat, moved by an impulse of curiosity. She went close
to the rock that stood upright like a sentinel.
"What's the matter?" called Bob as she started back.
"I--I thought I kicked against something," answered Betty. "There, did
you hear that?"
"Something clinked," admitted Bob. "Wait, I'll help you look."
He ran around to her and together they began to dig in the snow and
dead leaves.
"Bob! Bob!" Betty's voice rose in delight. "Look!"
She held up a small rusty iron box that, as she tilted it, yawned to
disgorge a shower of gold coins.
"The Macklin treasure! We've found it!" cried Betty, beginning to dig
like an excited terrier. "Help me hunt, Bob! It must be Mrs. Macklin's
treasure, mustn't it?"
"Looks that way," admitted Bob.
As he spoke he drew something from under the shadow of the rock that
settled the question immediately. Something that sparkled and glittered
and slipped through his cold red fingers like glass.
"The emeralds!" breathed Betty. "Oh, Bob, aren't they beautiful!"
"Look, Betty! That slab was forced outward not long ago. Before that this
treasure was concealed in a narrow crack between the two rocks. That's
why no one was able to find it when the search was made soon after the
loss! Isn't it great that we have found it?"
In a frenzy now, they dug, and when there seemed to be nothing more
hidden under the accumulation of dirt and leaves, the two stared at each
other in delighted amazement. At their feet lay little jewel bags
containing the pearls of which Norma had talked, the rose topazes, the
dozen cameos. Magnificent diamonds sparkled in a rusty case, ear-rings
and rings lay in a little heap, and a handful of uncut stones was wrapped
in a bit of chamois skin. Solid silver pitchers and goblets and trays,
sadly battered by being flung against the rocks, lay just as they had
fallen until Bob and Betty had uncovered the leaves which, had so long
covered them.
"How are we going to get it out of here?" asked Betty, when they had
satisfied themselves there was nothing left undiscovered.
"That's the pressing question," confessed Bob. "Incidentally, we have to
get ourselves out, too. I think we'd better walk on a bit, and look for
some trail out. One lucky thing, no one will take the treasure while
we're scouting."
"Where do you suppose that goes to?" said Betty, when they had been
tramping about five minutes.
She pointed to a rocky formation that led off into the side of the chasm.
It was evidently the mouth of a cave.
"I don't know, of course," admitted Bob. "But I think we had better take
a chance and follow it. It will be dark, but so will the chasm in another
half hour. I'll go first and you come after me."
It was inky black in the cave, and there was no assurance that it would
lead them anywhere and every prospect that they would have to retrace
their steps. He was careful to hint nothing of this to Betty, however,
and she, on her part, determinedly stifled any complaint of weariness
that rose to her lips.
It was an experience they both remembered all their lives--that slow,
halting groping through the winding cavern, where the rocky walls
narrowed or widened without warning and the roof rose to great heights or
dropped so low they must crawl on hands and knees. The thought of the
found treasure sustained them and gave them courage to keep on.
"I see a light!" cried Bob after what seemed to Betty hours of this.
"Betty, I do believe we've come to an opening!"
The pin-spot of light grew and broadened, and, as they approached it,
they saw it was the winter sky. The sun was setting, for the clouds had
cleared, and never was a sight half so beautiful to the anxious eyes that
rested on it. What did it matter that they were miles from the school, or
that both were wet and cold and tired to the point of collapse? Just to
get out of that awful chasm was enough.
"I'll go get your sled and pack the stuff on that," proposed Bob, "I
don't suppose it would hurt to leave it there all night, but somehow I
can't. Will you go on ahead, Betty? You're so tired."
"I'm going back with you," said Betty firmly. "I couldn't rest one
minute, knowing you were crawling through that awful cave again. Oh, yes,
I'm coming with you, Bob--you needn't shake your head like that."
Bob realized that it was useless to try to persuade her to go on to the
school alone. His common sense told him that it would be wiser to leave
the treasure where it was and come after it the next day, but common
sense does not always win out. It was actually impossible for Bob or
Betty to abandon the Macklin fortune now that they had found it.
Bob found Betty's sled, after some search, where they had left it
between two trees, and together they began to thread the tortuous maze
of the cave again, Bob going ahead and dragging the sled after him.
Betty thought despairingly that she had never known what it meant to be
tired before.
"I'll wrap the little things in my middy tie," she said when they came
out in the chasm at last and found the heap of treasure where they had
piled it, "and we can fasten down the rest of the stuff with the belt
from my coat."
Their fingers were stiff with cold, but they managed to get everything on
the sled and lash it securely with a rope and the leather belt from
Betty's coat. Then, once more, they started back through the cave.
The sled was heavy and the way seemed twice as long as the first time
they had followed it, but they kept doggedly on. It was dark when they
emerged on the familiar hillside.
"Sit on the sled, and I'll pull you, Betty," offered Bob, looking a
little anxiously at his companion's white face.
But Betty resolutely refused, and she trotted beside him all the way,
helping to pull the sled, till the gray buildings of Shadyside loomed up
before them.
She insisted that Bob must come in with her, and they told their story to
Mrs. Eustice, breathlessly and disconnectedly, to be sure, but the rope
of emeralds and the gleaming diamonds filled in all gaps in the
narrative. Before she went to sleep Betty had the satisfaction of knowing
that Norma and Alice had been told the good news and that a telegram was
speeding off to the home folks.
The discovery and recovery of the missing treasure created a wave of
excitement when it became generally known. A few girls, who valued
worldly possessions above everything else, made overtures of friendship
to the sisters whom previously they had ignored. Their old friends
heartily rejoiced with them and Norma and Alice went about in a dream of
bliss compounded of joy for their grandmother and parents, plans for new
frocks and the proposed holiday trip to Washington.
"It's the nicest thing that ever happened," Betty wrote her uncle. "Now
Norma and Alice can graduate from Shadyside, and Grandma Macklin can
spend the rest of the winter in Florida and dear Doctor and Mrs. Guerin
can doctor and nurse half the county for nothing, if they please."
* * * * *
Doctor Guerin and his wife wrote that Norma and Alice should go happily
with the Littell girls for a visit and forget the "no longer depressing
question of finances." Both Doctor and Mrs. Guerin were enthusiastic in
their praise of Betty and Bob, who began to feel that too much was made
of their lucky discovery, especially when, at the direction of Mrs.
Macklin, the Macklin family's old lawyer (who had taken charge of the
recovered treasure and appraised it at nearly twice its value when lost)
sent Betty a pair of the diamond earrings and Bob one of the priceless
old silver platters.
"But you not only found it, you went through a lot to bring it to us,"
said Norma affectionately. "No, Betty, you and Bob can't wriggle out of
being thanked."
The finding of the treasure was not the last of Betty's adventures. What
happened to her and her chums the following summer will be related in the
next volume of this series.
The remaining days of the term fairly flew, and almost before they
realized it, school closed for the Christmas holidays. A merry party
boarded the train for the Junction, where they could make connections for
Washington, one crisp, sunny December morning.
"Every one here?" demanded Bobby Littell. "I don't want to run the risk
of arriving home short a guest or two."
"I'm willing to be kidnapped," suggested Tommy Tucker, who knew the story
of Betty's first meeting with Bobby.
Both girls laughed, and Betty was still smiling as she held out her
ticket to the conductor.
"Have a good time, young 'uns," chirped the grizzled little man cheerily.
"Only one thing's more fun than goin' to school, and that's goin' home
from school for a spell of play."
And with this happy prospect before her, let us leave Betty Gordon.
THE END