The Outdoor Girls of Deepdale - Laura Lee Hope
"We take 'em back if oo dive us some tandy!" mocked Will, who, with his
chums, had been an interested observer of the little scene.
"Smarty!" exclaimed his sister. "But I'll take you at your word just the
same. Here, Frank--Allen--you see that he performs his part of the
contract," and she held the candy box out to the other two, who
laughingly accepted the bribe.
Then with the hands of the trusting, and now contented, twins in theirs,
Will and Frank bade the girls good-speed and led away the two small ones
on their homeward way, Allen following them after a farewell to Betty.
"At last we are off!" murmured Mollie. "I'm so sorry it happened, girls!"
"Why, the idea!" cried Betty. "It was just a little pleasant episode, and
we'll remember it all day, and laugh."
"But it may make us late," suggested Mollie, anxiously.
"Not much," went on the Little Captain. "It wasn't your fault, anyhow. We
can just walk a little faster to make up for it--that is, if, Grace
thinks she can stand it."
"Oh, you won't find me complaining," declared the girl whose footwear had
been the subject of comment. "I'm not as comfortable as you, perhaps,"
she admitted, "but I will be when I get my other shoes. And now, let's
give ourselves up to the enjoyments of the way--and day. Oh, isn't it
just lovely!"
Indeed, a more auspicious start--barring the little delay caused by the
twins--could not have been provided. The day was one of those balmy ones
in June, when it is neither too hot nor too blowy, when the breeze seems
fairly laden with the sweet scent of flowers, and the lazy hum of bees
mingles with the call of birds.
The way led out along a pleasant country road, which, for some distance,
wound in and out among great maples that formed a leafy shade which might
be most acceptable later in the day, since there was the promise of
considerable heat at noon.
As yet it was early, a prompt enough start having been made to allow of
an easy pace along the road.
"For," Betty had said in reviewing the procedure to be followed, "we
don't want to tire ourselves out on the first stage of our trip. We
ought to begin gradually. That is the way all athletes train."
"Oh, then we are going to be athletes?" asked Amy.
"Walking athletes, at least," responded the leader. "Now, girls, if any
of you feel like resting at any time, don't hesitate to say so. We want
this to be an enjoyment, not a task, even if we are a regular club."
So perfect was the day, and in such good spirits were the girls, that
even the simplest sights and happenings along the highway brought forth
pleased comments. The sight of a cow placidly chewing her cud in a
meadow, the patient creature standing knee-deep amid the buttercups, was
a picture they all admired, Mollie carried a little camera, and insisted
on snapping the bovine, though the other girls urged her to save some
films with which to take their own pictures.
"But that cow will make such a lovely enlargement," said Mollie. "It's
like an artist's painting."
Bravely they marched along, with a confident swing and firm tread--at
least, all but Grace trod firmly, and she rather favored herself on
account of her high heels. But her chums were good enough not to laugh.
They passed farm houses, in the kitchen doors of which appeared the
women and girls of the household, standing with rolled-up sleeves, arms
akimbo, looking with no small wonder at the four travelers.
There were comments, too, not always inaudible.
"I wonder what they're selling?" one woman asked her daughter, as
they paused in their work of washing a seemingly innumerable number
of milk pans.
"They take us for peddlers," said Amy.
A little later a small boy, who had been playing horse in front of his
house, scuttled back toward the kitchen, crying out:
"Ma--ma! Come an' see the suffragists!"
"Oh, mercy!" exclaimed Betty. "What will we be taken for next?"
But it was fun, with all that, and such a novelty to the girls that they
wondered why they had not before thought of this means of spending part
of their vacation.
The sun crept higher in the sky, and the warmth of the golden beams
increased. The girls were thankful, now, for any shade they might
encounter, and they were fortunate in that their way still lay in
pleasant places. They came to a little brook that ran under the road, and
not far from it a roadside spring bubbled up. Their collapsible drinking
cups came in useful, and they remained for a little while in the shade
near the cool spot.
"Where shall we eat our lunch?" asked Grace, as the ever-mounting sun
approached the zenith.
"Are you hungry already?" asked Amy.
"I am beginning to feel the pangs," admitted the tall, graceful girl.
"Then you can't have eaten much candy," commented Mollie.
"Only three pieces."
"Hurrah! Grace is reforming!" cheered Betty. "That's fine!"
"I don't see why you're always making fun of me," Grace said, as she
pouted. "I'm sure you are all just as fond of chocolate as I am."
"Never mind," consoled Mollie. "We will eat soon, for I confess to having
an appetite on my own account."
Deciding to eat, at least on this first day of the tramp, a lunch of
their own providing, rather than go to some restaurant, country hotel, or
stop at a chance farm house, the girls had brought with them packages of
food, and the alcohol stove for a cup of tea, or some chocolate.
"This looks to be a perfect place for our picnic," said Betty, as, on
passing a farm, they saw the plow-horses unhitched and led under a tree
to partake of their hay and oats. "It must be noon by that sign," went
on the Little Captain, confirming her guess by a glance at her watch. "It
is," she said. "So we'll eat here," and she indicated a little grassy
knoll under a great oak tree at the side of the road.
"There's the most beautiful spring of water here, too," went on Grace.
"Shall we make tea?"
"Do!" exclaimed Mollie. "I'm just dying for a good hot cup. But not
too strong."
Soon they had merrily gathered about the greensward table, on which paper
napkins formed the cloth. The sandwiches were set out, with a bottle of
olives to add to the attractiveness, and then the little kettle was put
on the alcohol stove, which had been set up in the shelter of the great
oak's massive trunk.
"It's boiling!" finally announced Betty. "Hand me the tea ball,
Amy, my dear."
Pouring the steaming water over the silver tea ball, Betty circulated it
around in the cup, until one fragrant brew was made. She passed this over
to Mollie, and proceeded to make another.
"It's delicious!" cried the French girl, as she tasted it, cream and
sugar having been added. "Oh, isn't this just lovely!"
"Perfect," murmured Grace. "I wouldn't have missed this for anything!"
In pure enjoyment they reclined on the grass after the meal, and then, as
Betty, after a look at her watch, warned them that the better half of
their journey still lay before them, they started off again.
They had proceeded a mile or so, and the way was not so pleasant now, for
the road was sandy, when they came to a fork of the highway. A time-worn
sign-post bore letters that could scarcely be made out, and, though they
had a road map, the girls were not quite sure which way to take to get to
Rockford. They were debating the matter, alternately consulting the map
and the sign-post, when a farmer drove past.
"Which road to Rockford, please?" hailed Betty.
"Th' left!" he exclaimed, sententiously. "G'lang there!" This last to the
horses, not to the girls.
"The road map seems to say the road to the right," murmured Betty, as the
farmer drove that way himself.
"Well, he ought to know," insisted Grace. "We'll take the left,"
and they did.
If they had hoped to have all go smoothly on this, their first day of
tramping, the girls were destined to disappointment. In blissful
ignorance they trudged on, talking so interestedly that they never
thought to glance at the sign-boards, of which they passed several.
It was Amy who discovered the error they had made--or rather, the error
the farmer had caused them to make. Again coming to a dividing of the
ways, they saw a new sign-board, put up by a local automobile
organization.
"Eight miles to Hamptown, and ten to Denby," read Amy. "Girls, where is
Rockford?"
Anxiously they stared at the sign.
"It doesn't seem to say anything about Rockford," murmured Grace.
"Maybe someone has moved our town," suggested Mollie, humorously.
Betty looked puzzled, annoyed and a little anxious. A snub-nosed,
freckle-faced boy came along whistling, and beating the dust of the road
with a long switch.
"Which is the road to Rockford, little boy?" asked Betty.
"Huh?"
"I say, which is the road to Rockford?"
"Give him a candy if you have any left, Grace," suggested Mollie, in
a low tone.
"Are you folks peddlin' candy?" asked the boy, and his eyes shone.
"No, but we have some," answered Betty. "We want to get to Rockford."
"You're five miles off the road," exclaimed the boy, with a grin, as
though he took personal delight in their dilemma. "You come the wrong
way. Huh!"
"Oh, dear!" murmured Mollie. "Don't you give him any candy, Grace."
"It isn't his fault that we went wrong," spoke Betty.
CHAPTER XI
THE BARKING DOG
Disappointment, and not a little worriment, held the four girls silent
for a moment. Then Betty, feeling that it was her place to assume the
leadership, said:
"Are you sure, little boy? A man told us, at the last dividing of the
roads, to take the left, as that led to Rockford."
"Well, he didn't know what he was talking about," asserted the little
chap, with the supreme confidence of youth. "To get to Rockford you've
got to go back."
"All that distance?" cried Grace. "We'll never make it in time."
"Isn't there a shorter way--some cross-road we can take?" inquired Betty.
"Who's got the candy?" inquired the little chap, evidently thinking that
he had already earned some reward.
"Here!" said Grace, hopelessly, holding out an almost emptied box. "But
please--_please_ don't tell us we're lost."
"Oh, you ain't exactly lost!" exclaimed the urchin, with a grin. "I live
just down the road a piece, and it's only a mile to Bakersville. That's a
good town. They got a movin' picture show there. I went onct!"
"Did you indeed?" said Betty. "But we can't go there. Isn't there some
way of getting to Rockford without going all the way back to the fork?
Why, it's miles and miles!"
"I wish I had that man here who directed us wrongly!" exclaimed Mollie,
with a flash of her dark eyes. "I--I'd make him get a carriage and drive
us to your aunt's house, Betty."
"That would not be revenge enough," declared Grace. "He ought to be made
to buy us each a box of the best chocolates."
"Nothing like making the punishment fit the crime," murmured Betty.
"Say, are you play-actors?" demanded the boy, who had stood in
opened-mouth wonder during this dialogue. The girls broke into peals of
merry laughter that, in a measure, served to relieve the tension on
their nerves.
"Now do please tell us how to get to Rockford?" begged Mollie when they
had quieted down. "We must be there to-night."
"Well, you kin git there by goin' on a mile further and taking the
main road that goes through Sayreville," said the boy, his mouth
full of candy.
"Would that be nearer than going back to where we made the mistake?"
Betty asked.
"Yep, a lot nearer. Come on; I'll show you as far as I'm goin'," and the
boy started off as though the task--or shall I say, pleasure?--of leading
four pretty girls was an every-day occurrence.
"We never can get there before dark," declared Mollie.
"Oh, yes, we will," said Betty, hopefully. "We can walk faster
than this."
"If you do I'll simply give up," wailed Grace. "These shoes!" and she
leaned against a tree.
And to the eternal credit of the other girls be it said that they did not
remark: "I told you so!"
Silently and unconcernedly, the snub-nosed boy led them on. Finally
he came to his own home, and rather ungallantly, did not offer to
go farther.
"You jest keep on for about half a mile," he said, "an' you'll come to a
cross-road."
"I hope it isn't too cross," murmured Grace, with a grave face.
"Huh?"
The boy looked at her wonderingly.
"I mean not cross enough to bite," she went on.
"You turn to the left," the boy continued, "and keep straight on till you
get to Watson's Corners. Then you turn to the right, keep on past an old
stone church, turn to the right and that's a straight road to Rockford."
He looked curiously at Grace, as though in doubt as to her sanity. "A
cross road!" he murmured.
"Gracious, we'll never remember all that!" exclaimed Amy.
"I have it down!" said practical Betty, as she wrote rapidly in her note
book. "I'm sure we can find it. Come on, girls!"
"Have another candy," invited Grace, hospitably extending the now nearly
depleted box.
"Sure--thanks!" exclaimed the boy, but he backed quickly away from her.
Her joke had fallen on a suspicious mind, evidently.
The girls trudged on, rather silent now, for somehow the edge of their
enjoyment seemed to have been taken off. But still they were not
discouraged. They were true outdoor girls, and they knew, even if worse
came to worst, and darkness found them far from their destination, and
Betty's aunt's house, that no real harm could come to them.
Successfully they found the various points of identification mentioned
by the freckled boy, and at last they located a sign-post that read:
FIVE MILES TO ROCKFORD
"Five miles!" exclaimed Grace, with a tragic air. "We can never do it!"
"We must!" declared Betty, firmly. "Of course we can do it. Why, even
with going out of our way as we did, we won't have covered more than
eighteen miles to-day. And we set twenty as an average."
"But this is the first day," said Mollie.
"We can--we _must_ get to Rockford to-night," insisted Betty.
Rather hopelessly they tramped on. The sun seemed to sink with surprising
rapidity after getting to a certain point in the western sky.
"It's dropping faster and faster all the while!" cried Amy, as they
watched it from a crest of the road.
"Never mind--June evenings are the longest of the year," consoled Betty.
They hurried on. The sun sank to its nightly rest amid a bed of golden,
green, purple, pink and olive clouds, and there followed a glorious maze
of colors that reached high up toward zenith.
"Girls, we simply must stop and admire this--if it's only for a
minute!" exclaimed Grace. "Isn't that wonderful!" and she pointed a
slender hand, beautified by exquisitely kept nails, toward the gorgeous
sky picture.
"Every minute counts!" remarked practical Betty. Yet she knew better than
to worry her friends.
The glow faded, and again the girls advanced. From the fields came the
lowing of the cows, as they waited impatiently for the bars of the
pastures to be let down. A herd of sheep was driven along the road,
raising a cloud of dust. From farm houses came the barking of dogs and
the not unmusical notes of conch or tin horns, summoning the "men folks"
to the evening meal.
"Girls, we're never going to make it in time!" exclaimed Grace as the sky
darkened. "We must see if we can't stop at one of these houses over
night," and she pointed to a little hamlet they were approaching.
"Grace!" exclaimed Betty. "Aunt Sallie would be worried to death if we
didn't come, after she expected us."
"Then we must send her word. I can't go another step."
They all paused irresolutely. They were in front of a big white house--a
typical country home. Betty glanced toward it.
"It's too bad," she said. "I know just how you feel, and yet can we go up
to one of these places, perfect strangers, and ask them to keep us over
night? It doesn't seem reasonable."
"Anything is reasonable when you have to," declared Mollie. "I'll ask,"
she volunteered, starting toward the house. "The worst they can say is
'no,' and maybe we can hire a team to drive to Rockford, if they can't
keep us. I can drive!"
"Well, we'll ask, anyhow," agreed Betty, rather hopelessly. She hardly
knew what to do next.
As they advanced toward the House the savage barking of a dog was heard,
and as they reached the front gate the beast came rushing down the walk,
while behind him lumbered a farmer, shouting:
"Here! Come back! Down, Nero! Don't mind him, ladies!" he added. "He
won't hurt you!"
But the aspect, and the savage growls and barks, of the creature seemed
to indicate differently, and the girls shrank back. Betty, reaching in
her bag, drew out the nearly emptied olive bottle for a weapon.
"Don't hit him! Don't hit him!" cried the farmer. "That will only make
him worse! Come back here, Nero!"
"Run, girls! Run!" begged Amy. "He'll tear us to pieces!" and she
turned and fled.
CHAPTER XII
AT AUNT SALLIE'S
Probably that was the most unwise course poor Amy could have taken. Dogs,
even the most savage, seldom come to a direct attack unless their
prospective victim shows fear. Then, like a horse that takes advantage of
a timid driver, the creature advances boldly to the attack.
It was so in this case. The other girls, not heeding Amy's frantic
appeal, stood still, but she ran back toward the road, her short skirt
giving her a chance to exercise her speed. The dog saw, and singling out
her as the most favorable for his purposes, he leaped the fence in a
great bound and rushed after the startled girl.
"Stop him! Stop him!"
"Oh, Amy!"
"If she falls!"
"I know I'm going to faint!"
"Don't you dare do it, Grace Ford!"
"Why doesn't that man keep his dog chained?"
These were only a few of the expressions that came from the lips of the
girls as, horror-stricken, they watched the dog rush after poor Amy.
Never had she run so fast--not even during one of the basket ball
games in which she had played, nor when they had races at the Sunday
school picnic.
And, had it not been for a certain hired man, who, taking in the
situation as he came on the run from the barn, acted promptly, Amy might
have been severely injured. As it was the farmer's man, crossing the yard
diagonally, was able to intercept the dog.
"Run to the left, Miss! Run to the left!" he cried. Then, leaping the low
fence at a bound, he threw the pitchfork he carried at the dog with such
skill that the handle crossed between the brute's legs and tripped it.
Turning over and over in a series of somersaults, the dog's progress was
sufficiently halted to enable the hired man to get to it. He took a firm
grip in the collar of the dog and held on. Poor Amy stumbled a few steps
farther and then Betty, recovering her scattered wits, cried out:
"All right, Amy! All right! You're in no danger!"
And Amy sank to the ground while her chums rushed toward her.
"Hold him, Zeke! Hold him!" cried the farmer, as he came lumbering up.
"Hold on to him!"
"That's what I'm doin'!" responded the hired man.
"Is th' gal hurted? Land sakes, I never knew Nero to act so!" went on the
farmer apologetically. "He must have been teased by some of th' boys. Be
you hurted, Miss?"
Pale and trembling, Amy arose. But it was very evident that she had
suffered no serious harm, for the dog had not reached her, and she had
simply collapsed on the grass, rather than fallen.
The dog, choking and growling, was firmly held by the hired man, who
seemed to have no fear of him.
"I'm awfully sorry," said the farmer, contritely. "I never knew him to
act like that."
"Some one has tied a lot of burrs on his tail," called out the hired man.
"That's what set him off."
"I thought so. Well, clean 'em off, and he'll behave. Poor old Nero!"
Even now the dog was quieting down, and as the hired man removed the
irritating cause of the beast's anger it became even gentle, whining as
though to offer excuses.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am," went on the farmer. "You're strangers
around here, I take it."
"Yes," said Betty, "and we lost our way. We're going to Rockford. We must
be there to-night."
"Rockford?"
"Yes, my aunt lives there."
"And who might your aunt be?"
"Mrs. Palmer."
"Bill Palmer's wife?"
"Yes, that's Uncle Will I guess," and Betty laughed.
"Pshaw now! You don't say so! Why, I know Bill well."
The farmer's wife came bustling out.
"Is the young lady hurt, Jason? What got into Nero, anyhow? I never see
him behave so!"
"Oh, it was them pesky boys! No, she's not hurt."
Amy was surrounded by her chums. She was pale, and still trembling, but
was fast recovering her composure.
"Won't you come in the house," invited the woman. "We're jest goin' t'
set down t' supper, and I'm sure you'd like a cup of tea."
"I should love it!" murmured Grace.
"What be you--suffragists?" went on the woman, with a smile.
"That's the second time we've been taken for them to-day," murmured
Betty, "Do we look so militant?"
"You look right peart!" complimented the woman. "Do come in?"
Betty, with her eyes, questioned her chums. They nodded an assent.
Really they were entitled to something it seemed after the unwarranted
attack of the dog.
"We ought to be going on to Rockford," said Betty, as they
strolled toward the pleasant farm house. "I don't see how we can
get there now--"
"You leave that to me!" said the farmer, quickly. "I owe you
something on account of the way Nero behaved. Ain't you ashamed of
yourself?" he charged.
The dog crouched, whined and thumped the earth with a contrite tail. He
did not need the restraining hand of the hired man now.
"Make friends," ordered the farmer. The dog approached the girls.
"Oh--don't!" begged Amy.
"He wouldn't hurt a fly," bragged the farmer. "I can't account for his
meanness."
"It was them burrs," affirmed the hired man.
"Mebby so. Wa'al, young ladies, come in and make yourselves t' hum!
Behave, Nero!" for now the dog was getting too friendly, leaping up and
trying to solicit caresses from the girls. "That's th' way with him, one
minute he's up to some mischief, an' th' next he's beggin' your, pardon.
I hope you're not hurt, miss," and he looked anxiously at Amy.
"No, not at all," she assured him, with a smile that was brave and
winning. "I was only frightened, that's all."
"I'm glad of that. I'll have t' tie that dog up, I guess," and he
threw a little clod of earth at the now cringing animal, not hitting
him, however.
"Oh, don't hurt him," pleaded Betty.
"Hurt him! He wouldn't do that, miss!" exclaimed the hired man, who now
had to defend himself from the over-zealous affections of the dog. "He's
too fond of him. Nero isn't a bad sort generally, only some of the boys
worried him."
The girls, with the farmer and his man in the lead, walked toward the
house, the woman hurrying on ahead to set more places at the table.
"I'm afraid we're troubling you too much," protested Betty.
"Oh, it's no trouble at all," the farmer assured her. "And I owe you
something on account of my dog's actions."
"But really, ought we to stay?" asked Grace. "It's getting dark, Betty,
and your aunt--"
"Say, young ladies!" exclaimed the farmer, "I'll fix that all right. As
soon as you have a bite to eat I'll hitch up and drive you over to
Rockford, to Bill Palmer's."
"Oh!" began Betty, "we couldn't think--"
She stopped, for she did not know what to say. Truly, it was quite a
dilemma in which they found themselves, and they must stay somewhere that
night. To remain at a strange farm house was out of the question. Perhaps
this was the simplest way after all.
"It won't be any trouble at all," the farmer assured her. "I've got
a fast team and a three-seated carriage. I'll have you over there
in no time."
"Then perhaps we'd better not stop for supper," said Mollie. "Your aunt
might be worrying, Betty, and--"
"We'll telephone her!" exclaimed the farmer. "I've got a 'phone--lots of
us have around here--and I can let her know all about it. Or you can talk
to her yourself," he added.
So it was arranged; and soon Betty was talking to her anxious relative
over the wire. Then, after a bountiful supper, which the girls very much
enjoyed, the farmer hitched up his fine team, and soon they were on
their way to Mrs. Palmer's. The drive was not a long one.
"My!" exclaimed Mollie, as they bowled along over the smooth road, under
a young moon that silvered the earth, "this is better than walking!"
"I should say so," agreed Grace, whose shoes hurt her more than she
cared to admit.
"You are both traitors to the Club!" exclaimed Betty. "The idea of
preferring riding to walking!"
"Oh, it's only once in a while," added Mollie. "Really, pet, we've had a
perfectly grand time."
"Even with the dog," added Amy, who was now herself again. "I was
silly to run."
"I don't blame you," said the farmer, "and yet if you hadn't, maybe Nero
wouldn't have chased you. It's a good thing not to run from a dog. If you
stand, it let's him see you're not afraid."
"Put that down in your books, girls," directed Betty. "Never run from a
dog. That advice may come in useful on our trip."
Half an hour later they were at Mrs. Palmer's house, and received a
hearty welcome, the telephone message having done much to relieve the
lady's anxiety.