The Outdoor Girls of Deepdale - Laura Lee Hope
"Girls, we're going to get wet!" exclaimed Mollie, as they passed a
cross-road, pausing to look at the sign-board.
"And it's five miles farther on to Broxton!" said Amy. "Can we
ever make it?"
"I think so--if we hurry," said Betty. "A little rain won't hurt us.
These suits are made to stand a drenching."
"Then let's walk fast," proposed Grace.
"She wouldn't have said that with those other shoes," remarked
Amy, drily.
"Got any candy?" demanded Mollie. "I'm hungry!"
Without a word Grace produced a bag of chocolates. It was surprising how
she seemed to keep supplied with them.
The girls were hurrying along, now and then looking apprehensively at the
fast-gathering and black clouds, when, as they turned a bend in the road,
Amy, who was walking beside Grace, cried out:
"Oh, it's a bear! It's a bear!"
"What's that--a new song?" demanded Mollie, laughing.
"No--look! look!" screamed Amy, and she pointed to a huge, hairy creature
lumbering down the middle of the highway.
CHAPTER XVI
THE DESERTED HOUSE
The girls screamed in concert, and whose voice was the loudest was a
matter that was in doubt. Not that the Little Captain and her chums
lingered long to determine. The bear stopped short in the middle of the
road, standing on its hind legs, waving its huge forepaws, and lolling
its head from side to side in a sort of Comical amazement.
"Run! Run!" screamed Betty. "To the woods!"
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" That seemed the extent of Mollie's vocabulary just then.
"Climb a tree," was the advice of Grace.
"Is he coming? Is it coming after us?" Amy wanted to know.
She glanced over her shoulder as she put the question, and there
nearly followed an accident, for Amy was running, and the look back
caused her to stumble. Betty, who was racing beside her, just managed
to save her chum from a bad fall. All the girls were running--running
as though their lives depended on their speed. Luckily they wore
short, walking skirts, which did not hinder free movement, and they
really made good speed.
[Illustration: THE BEAR STOPPED SHORT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD.]
They crossed the road and plunged into the underbrush, crashing through
it in very terror. They clung to their small suitcases instinctively.
Then suddenly, as they ran on, there came the clear notes of a bugle in
an army call. Betty recalled something.
"Stop, girls!" she cried.
"What, with that bear after us?" wailed Grace. "Never!"
"It's all right--I tell you it's all right!" went on Betty.
"Oh, she's lost her mind! She's so frightened she doesn't know what she
is saying!" exclaimed Mollie. "Oh, poor Betty!"
"Silly! Stop, I tell you. That bear--"
Again came the notes of the bugle, and then the girls, looking through
the fringe of trees at the road, saw a man with a red jacket, and wearing
a hat in which was a long feather, come along, and grasp a chain that
dangled from the leather muzzle which they had failed to notice on the
bear's nose.
"It's a tame bear!" cried Betty. "That's what I meant. He won't harm us.
Come on back to the road! Oh, I've torn my skirt!" and she gazed ruefully
at a rent in the garment.
The girls hesitated a moment, and then, understanding the situation, and
being encouraged by the fact that the man now had his bear in charge,
also seeing another man, evidently the mate of the first, approaching
with a second bear, they all went back to the highway. The bugle blew
again, and one of the bears, at a command from the man, turned a clumsy
somersault.
Grace burst into hysterical laughter, in which she was joined by
the others.
"Weren't we silly!" exclaimed Mollie.
"Oh, but it looked just like a real bear!" gasped Amy in self-defense.
"Listen to her," said Betty. "A real bear--why, of course it is. Did you
think it was the Teddy variety?"
"Oh, you know what I mean," spoke Amy, "I thought it was a wild bear."
"It probably was--once," remarked Grace.
They were all out in the road now, and the two men, with the bears, were
slowly approaching. Evidently the foremost man had seen the precipitate
flight of the girls, so, taking off his hat, and bowing with foreign
politeness, he said:
"Excuse--please. Juno him get away from me--I chase after--I catch.
Excuse, please."
"That's all right," said Betty, pleasantly. "We were frightened for
a minute."
"Verra sorry. Juno made the dance for the ladies!"
He blew some notes on a battered brass horn, and began some foreign
words in a sing-song tone, at which the bear moved clumsily about on its
hind feet.
"Juno--kiss!" the man cried.
The great shaggy creature extended its muzzle toward the man's face,
touching his cheek.
"Excuse--please," said the bear-trainer, smiling.
"Come on girls," suggested Amy. The place was rather a lonely one, though
there were houses just beyond, and the two men, in spite of their bows,
did not seem very prepossessing.
With hearts that beat rapidly from their recent flight and excitement,
the girls passed the bears, the men both taking off their hats and
bowing. Then the strange company was lost to sight down a turn in the
road, the notes of the bugles coming faintly to the girls.
"Gracious! That _was_ an adventure!" exclaimed Mollie.
"I thought I should faint," breathed Amy.
"Have a chocolate--do," urged Grace.
"They're nourishing," and she held out some.
"Girls, we must hurry," spoke Betty, "or we'll never get to Broxton
before the rain. Hurry along!"
They walked fast, passing through the little village of Chanceford,
where they attracted considerable attention. It was not every day
that four such pretty, and smartly-attired, girls were seen on the
village main street--the only thoroughfare, by the way. Then they
came to the open country again. They had been going along at a good
pace, and were practically certain of reaching Grace's sister's house
in time for supper.
"It's raining!" suddenly exclaimed Betty, holding up her hand to
make sure.
A drop splashed on it. Then another. Amy looked up into the clouds
overhead.
"Oh!" she cried. "A drop fell in my eye."
Then with a suddenness that was surprising, the shower came down hard.
Little dark spots mottled the white dust of the road.
"Run!" cried Mollie. "There's a house. We can stay on the porch until the
rain passes. The people won't mind."
A little in advance, enclosed with a neat red fence, and setting back
some distance from the road was a large, white house, with green
shutters. The windows in front were open, as was the front door, and
from one casement a lace curtain flapped in the wind.
"Run! Run! We'll be drenched!" cried Grace, thinking of her new walking
suit. Without more ado the girls hurried through the gate, up the gravel
walk and got to the porch just as the rain reached its maximum. It was
coming down now in a veritable torrent.
"Queer the people here don't shut their door," remarked Betty.
"And see, the rain is coming in the parlor window," added Amy.
"Maybe they don't know it," suggested Grace. "Oh, the wind is blowing the
rain right in on us!" she cried.
"I wonder if it would be impertinent to walk in?" suggested Mollie.
"We at least can knock and ask--they won't refuse," said Betty. "And
really, with the wind this way, the porch is no protection at all."
She rapped on the open door. There was no response and she tapped
again--louder, to make it heard above the noise of the storm.
"That's queer--maybe no one is at home," said Grace.
"They would hardly go off and leave the house all open, when it looked so
much like rain," declared Amy. "Suppose we call to them? Maybe they are
upstairs."
The girls were now getting so wet that they decided not to stand on
ceremony. They went into the hall, through the front door. There was a
parlor on one side, and evidently a sitting room on the other side of the
central hall.
"See that rain coming in on the curtains and carpets!" cried Betty.
"Girls, we must close the windows," and she darted into the parlor.
The others followed her example, and soon the house was closed against
the elements.
Breathless the girls waited for some sign or evidence of life in the
house. There was none. The place was silent, the only sound being the
patter of the rain and the sighing of the wind. The girls looked at each
other. Then Betty spoke:
"I don't believe there's a soul here!" she exclaimed. "Not a soul! The
house is deserted!"
CHAPTER XVII
IN CHARGE
"No one here? What do you mean?"
"Betty Nelson, what a strange thing to say!"
"Of course there must be some one here. They're only upstairs, maybe,
shutting the windows there."
Thus spoke Mollie, Grace and Amy in turn. Betty listened patiently, and
then suggested:
"Just hearken for a minute, and see if you think anyone is upstairs
shutting windows."
Then all listened intently. There was not a sound save that caused by the
storm, which seemed to increase in fury instead of diminishing.
"There is no one here," went on Betty positively. "We are all alone in
this house."
"But where can the people be?" asked Grace. "They must be people living
here," and she looked around at the well-kept, if somewhat
old-fashioned, parlor.
"Of course the house is lived in--and the people must have left it only
recently," said Betty. "That's evident."
"Why did they go off and leave it?" asked Mollie.
"That's the mystery of it," admitted Betty. "It's like the mystery of the
five hundred dollar bill. We've got to solve it."
"Perhaps--" began Amy in a gentle voice.
"Well?" asked Betty encouragingly.
"Maybe the lady was upstairs shutting the windows when she saw the storm
coming, and she fell, or fainted or something like that."
"That's so!" exclaimed Mollie.
"We'll look," decided Betty.
"Betty!" chorused Grace and Amy.
"Why not?" the Little Captain challenged. "We've got to get at the
bottom of this."
"But suppose we should find her--find some one up there in a--faint," and
Amy motioned toward the upper rooms.
"All the more reason for helping them," said practical Betty. "They may
need help. Come on!"
The girls left their things in the hall, and, rather timidly, it must be
confessed, ascended the stairs. But they need not have been afraid of
seeing some startling sight. The upper chambers were as deserted as the
rooms below. In short, a careful examination throughout the house failed
to disclose a living creature, save a big Maltese cat which purred and
rubbed in friendly fashion against the girls.
"The house is deserted!" declared Betty again. "We are in sole and
undisputed possession, girls. We're in charge!"
"For how long?" asked Amy.
"Until this storm is over, anyhow. We can't go out in that downpour," and
Betty glanced toward the window against which the rain was dashing
furiously. "We must close down the sashes here, too!" she exclaimed, for
one or two were open, and the water was beating in.
"What can have happened?" murmured Mollie. "Isn't it strange?"
"I've no doubt it can be explained simply," said Betty. "The woman who
lives here may have gone to a neighbor's house and failed to notice the
time. Then she may be storm-bound, as we are."
"No woman would remain at a neighbor's house, and leave her own alone,
with a lot of windows up, the front door open and a beating rain coming
down," said Grace, positively. "Not such a neat housekeeper as the woman
here seems to be; she'd come home if she was drenched," and she glanced
around the well-ordered rooms.
"You've got to think up a different reason than that, Betty Nelson."
"Besides, what of the men folks?--there are men living here--at least
one, for there's a hat on the front rack," put in Amy. "Where are the
men, or the man?"
"They'll be along at supper time," declared Betty.
"Besides, maybe that hat is just kept there to scare tramps," said Grace.
"I've often heard of a lone woman borrowing a man's hat--when she didn't
have--didn't want, or couldn't get a man."
"That's so," admitted Betty. "But, speaking of supper reminds me--what
are we going to do about ours?"
"It is getting nearly time," murmured Mollie. "But we simply can't tramp
through that rain to your sister's house, Grace."
"No, we'll have to wait. Oh, dear! Isn't this a queer predicament to be
in, and not a chocolate left?" she wailed, as she looked in the box.
"Empty!" she cried quite tragically.
The rain still descended. It was not, for the moment, pouring as hard as
at first, but there was a steadiness and persistency to it that did not
encourage one in the belief that it would soon stop. The big drops dashed
against the windows intermittently, as the wind rose and fell.
Around one angle of the house the gale howled quite fiercely, and in the
parlor, where there was an open fireplace, it came down in gusts, sighing
mournfully out into the room, with its old horsehair furniture, the
pictures of evidently dead-and-gone relatives, in heavy gold frames,
while in other frames were fearfully and wonderfully made wreaths of
flowers--wax in some cases, and cloth in the remainder, being the medium
in which nature was rather mocked than simulated.
The girls stood at the windows, staring drearily out. They could just see
a house down the road on the other side. In the other direction no
residences were visible--just an expanse of rain-swept fields. And there
seemed to be no passers-by--no teams on the winding country road.
"Oh, but this is lonesome," said Amy, with a sigh.
"Girls, what are we to do?" demanded Mollie.
"We simply must go on to my sister's," declared Grace. "What will she
think, if we don't come?"
As if in answer, the storm burst into another spasm of fury, the
rain coming down in "sheets, blankets and pillow cases," as Mollie
grimly put it.
"We can never go--in this downpour," declared Betty. "It would be sheer
madness--foolishness, at any rate. We would be drenched in an instant,
and perhaps take cold."
"If there was only some way to let your sister know," spoke Mollie. "I
wonder if there's a telephone?"
It needed but a little survey to disclose that there was none.
"If we could only see someone--send for a covered carriage, or send some
word--" began Amy.
"Oh, well, for the matter of my sister worrying, that doesn't amount to
much," interrupted Grace. "When I wrote I told her it was not exactly
certain just what day we would arrive, as I thought we might spend more
time in some places than in others. That part is all right. What's
worrying me is that we can't get to any place to spend the night--we
can't have any supper--we--"
"Girls!" cried Betty, with sudden resolve, "there is only one
thing to do!"
"What's that?" the others chorused.
"Stay here. We'll get supper here--there must be food in the house. If
the people come back we'll ask them to keep us over night--there's
room enough."
"And if they don't come?" asked Amy, shivering a little.
"Then we'll stay anyhow!" cried the Little Captain. "We are in charge and
we can't desert now."
CHAPTER XVIII
RELIEVED
That Betty's suggestion was the most sensible one which could have been
made they were all willing to admit when they had thought of it for a
little while.
"Of course it is possible for us to go out in this storm, and tramp on to
Broxton," said Betty. "But would it be wise?"
"Indeed not!" exclaimed Grace, as she glanced down at her trim suit,
which the little wetting received in the dash to the house had not
spoiled. "If we were boys we might do it, but, as it is--"
"I won't admit that we can't do it because we are _not_ boys," said
Betty. "Only just--"
"Only we're just not going out in this storm!" said Mollie, decidedly.
"We'll stay here, and if the people come back, and make a fuss, we'll
pay, just as we would at a hotel. They won't be mean enough to turn us
out, I think."
"We'll stay--and get supper," cried Betty. "Come on, I'm getting
hungrier every minute!"
"If the people do come," remarked Amy, "they ought to allow us something
for taking care of their house--I mean if they attempt to charge us as a
hotel would, we can tell them how we shut the windows--"
"At so much per window," laughed Mollie. "Oh, you are the queerest girl!"
and she hugged her.
"Well, let's get supper," proposed Betty again. "It will soon be dark,
and it isn't easy going about a strange house in the dark."
"There are lamps," said Mollie, pointing to several on a shelf in
the kitchen.
"Oh, I didn't exactly mean that," went on Betty, rolling up her sleeves.
"Now to see what's in the ice box--at least, I suppose there is an ice
box. There's a fire in the stove, and we can cook. Oh, girls! It's going
to be real jolly after all!"
"And how it does rain!" exclaimed Amy. "We never could have gone on in
this drenching downpour."
It was an exceedingly well-ordered house, and the girls, who had been
wisely trained at home, had no difficulty in locating an ample supply of
food. They invaded the cellar, and found plenty of canned fruit, tomatoes
and other things. There were hams, shoulders of bacon, eggs, and some
fresh meat. Great loaves of evidently home-made bread were in the pantry.
"We shall dine like kings!" cried Grace.
"Better than some kings," said Betty. "Only I don't see any chocolates,
Grace," and she laughed.
"Smarty!" was the other's retort, but she laughed also.
Such a jolly meal as it was! The girls, once they had decided in their
minds to make the best of a queer situation, felt more at home. They
laughed and joked, and when supper was over, the dishes washed, and the
lamps lighted, they gathered in the old-fashioned parlor, and Betty
played on a melodeon that gave forth rather doleful sounds.
However, she managed to extract some music from its yellowed keys, and
the girls sang some simple little part-songs.
"Too bad we haven't an audience," murmured Grace, as they ended up with
"My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean."
"The rain is audience enough," spoke Mollie. "As for someone's Bonnie
lying over the _ocean_--the yard is a perfect _lake_!" she went on,
looking from the window.
"It would have been foolish to go on," said Betty. "I am glad we have
such a comfortable place."
And comfortable it certainly was. The house, while a typical country
residence, was very convenient and well ordered. Careful people lived in
it--that was easy to see. And as the rain pelted down, the girls sat
about, the cat purring contentedly near them, and a cheerful fire burning
on the hearth in the parlor.
"I hope they won't make a fuss about the liberties we are taking," said
Mollie, putting some extra sticks on the blaze. "Some persons never open
their parlors in the country."
"These people don't seem of that sort," said Amy. "At least, the parlor
was open enough when we closed the windows."
"And how it rains!" murmured Grace, with a little nervous shiver.
"Suppose the people come back in the middle of the night?" asked Mollie.
"They'll think we are burglars."
"We must leave a light burning," decided Betty, "and a note near it
explaining why we came in and that we are asleep upstairs. Then they
will know."
That was decided on as the best plan, and it was carried out. The girls
went to bed, but it was some time before they got to sleep, though
finally the steady fall of rain wooed them to slumber. No one entered
during the night, and the morning came, still retaining the rain.
"Will it ever clear?" asked Mollie, hopelessly.
"The wind is changing," spoke Betty. "I think we can soon start."
"But can we go away and leave the house alone?" asked Amy. "Ought we not
to stay until the owners come back?"
"How can we tell when they will come back?" demanded Grace. "Besides, I
must let my sister know why we were detained."
"I suppose we will have to go on," said Betty. "If the persons living
here didn't care about deserting their place we ought not to."
"But what will they think when they come in and see that someone has been
here?" asked Mollie.
"We must leave a note explaining, and also some money for the food
we took," decided Betty. "Or we can stop at the next house and tell
how it was."
They debated these two plans for some time, finally deciding on part of
both. That is, they would leave a note and a sum of money that they
figured would pay for what they had eaten. They made no deduction for
closing the windows against the rain. They would also stop at the
nearest house and explain matters to the residents there, asking them to
communicate with the occupants of the deserted house.
When this point had been reached, and when the note had been written, and
wrapped around the money, being placed in a conspicuous place in the
front hall, the girls were ready to leave.
The rain had slackened, and there was a promise of fair weather.
Breakfast had been partaken of, and the dishes washed. The house was as
nearly like it had been as was possible to leave it.
"Well, let's start," proposed Grace.
They went towards the front door, and as they opened it they saw
advancing up the walk a lady with a large umbrella, a large carpet bag,
wearing a large bonnet and enveloped in the folds of a large shawl. She
walked with determined steps and as she came on she glanced toward the
house. As she saw the four girls on the porch she quickened her pace.
"Girls, we're relieved," said Betty, in a low voice. "Here comes the
owner, or I'm much mistaken!"
CHAPTER XIX
A LITTLE LOST GIRL
"What are you doing here? Who are you? How long have you been here? Is
Mrs. Black in there?"
These questions were fairly shot at the girls, who stood in rather
embarrassed silence on the porch. The sun was now breaking through the
clouds in warm splendor, and they took this for a good omen.
"Well, why don't you answer?" demanded the rather aggressive woman. "I
can't see what you are doing here!"
She stuck her umbrella in the soft earth along the graveled walk.
"We--we came in to shut the windows," said Amy, gently.
A change came over the woman's face. She frowned--she smiled. She turned
about and looked toward the nearest house. Then she spoke.
"Do you mean to tell me," she demanded, "that after I called her on the
telephone, Martha Black didn't come over, shut my windows, lock up my
house, and feed the cat? Didn't she?"
"We don't know. I'm afraid we don't know Mrs. Black," answered Betty. She
was getting control of herself now. The aggressive woman had rather
startled her at first.
"She lives down there," and the owner of the deserted house pointed
toward the nearest residence.
"No one is here but us," said Betty. "We closed the windows, and we fed
the cat. We also fed ourselves, but we left the money to pay for it.
Shall I get it?"
The woman stared at her blankly.
"I--I'm afraid I don't understand," she returned, weakly.
"I'll explain," said Betty, and she did, telling how they had come in
for shelter from the storm, how they had found the windows open, how
they had closed up the place and had eaten and slept in it. Now they
were going away.
"Well if that doesn't beat all!" cried the woman, in wonder.
"We couldn't understand how no one was at home," went on Betty.
"Well, it's easy enough explained," said the woman. "I'm Mrs. Kate
Robertson. Yesterday afternoon I got a telephone message from Kirkville,
saying my husband, who works in the plaster mill there, was hurt. Of
course that flustered me. Hiram Boggs brought the message. Of course you
don't know him."
"No," answered Betty, as Mrs. Robertson paused for breath.
"Well, I was flustered, of course, naturally," went on the large lady. "I
just rushed out as I was, got into Hiram Bogg's rig--he drives good
horses, I will say that for him--I got in with him, just as I was, though
I will say I had all my housework done and was thinking what to get for
supper. I got in with Hiram, and made him drive me to the depot. I knew I
just had time to get the three-thirty-seven train. And I got it. And me
with only such things as I could grab up," she added, with a glance at
her attire, which, though old fashioned, was neat.
"On my way to the station," she resumed, "I stopped at the drug store,
telephoned to Martha Black, and asked her to run over and close up my
house, for it looked like a storm."
"It did rain," put in Mollie.
"I should say it did. And Martha never closed my house?" It was a
direct question.
"No, we did," said Betty. "Probably she forgot it."
"I'll have to see. Well, anyhow, when I got to my husband I found he
wasn't much hurt after all. Still I stayed over night with him, as there
wasn't a train back. And when I saw you girls on my porch I couldn't
think what had happened. Are you a Votes for Women crowd?"
"No," said Betty. "We're a walking club."
"No politics?"
"None whatever."
"All right. Now, then, I'll see why Martha didn't come over. I can't
understand."
"Perhaps this is she now," said Betty, as another woman was seen coming
up the walk.
"It is," said Mrs. Robertson. "That's Martha Black."
The two met. There was much talk, of which the girls caught some, and
then the explanation came. Mrs. Black had started to come over to Mrs.
Robertson's house to close the windows as she saw the rain, but, pausing
to attend to some household duties, she was a little late. Then she
looked over and saw the sashes shut down, and thought that Mrs. Robertson
had come back to attend to them herself. As the storm kept up, she did
not have a chance to call, and only on seeing Mrs. Robertson arrive did
she suspect anything wrong. Meanwhile the girls had been in charge, but
Mrs. Black was not aware of it.