Читать книгу Beverly Gray's Quest - Clair Blank - Страница 7

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The breezes from Lake Michigan swept the Boulevard with a cooling effect that was delicious after the long, hot drive. Lenora, leaning at a perilous angle from the window of the car, snapped the shutter of her camera triumphantly as they passed the Art Museum.

“Got it!”

In the roadster behind Shirley’s car in the line of traffic Boyd tooted the horn gaily. The two cars had kept together since their occupants’ meeting in the “haunted” house. At night they had stopped at the same hotels and had explored together any spots of interest they could find.

“Look at the boats on the lake!” Shirley exclaimed.

“Let’s go for a boat ride,” Lenora proposed. “I am so hot and dusty a ride on the lake would be just the thing!”

“I second the motion,” Beverly agreed.

“Suppose we find our hotel first and get settled,” Shirley proposed.

“It might be wise to have dinner, too,” Lenora conceded.

“Food again!” Shirley shook her head. “What do you say, Beverly?”

“It’s all right with me,” Beverly nodded.

Chicago was familiar to the girls since they had been there before. Nevertheless they took a keen delight in sightseeing under Gordon’s and Boyd’s guidance, and Lenora took innumerable pictures which were sent with a story Beverly wrote to Charlie Blaine in the Tribune office in New York.

They tried to crowd everything possible into one day in Chicago. On the morning of the second day they bade farewell to their friends and headed the car westward.

It was a lovely day, warm as midsummer but with the colors of approaching autumn. No clouds marred the blanket of blue sky and the wind was only a gentle whisper.

“You know,” Lenora remarked with a sigh, “I would make a wonderful hobo. The open road calls me. Ah, to do nothing but travel——”

“In box cars,” interrupted Shirley, “with no full course dinners or stylish clothes——”

“You always look at the worst side,” Lenora accused.

“I am only being practical,” Shirley defended.

“Think how romantic the wandering, nomadic life would be. No work——”

“It is more romantic to have flowers and silverware on the table than to eat right out of the can,” Shirley laughed. “Don’t you agree, Beverly?”

“I certainly do,” Beverly smiled. “Isn’t it about time for lunch? While we eat we can study the map and decide where we will spend the night.”

“I want to stay in a tourist cabin,” Lenora decided. She flung her arms wide. “I crave the rugged life of wide open spaces.”

“Rugged!” Shirley echoed, winking at Beverly. “We’ll see what we can do.”

They were entering a small town and decided to stop at a drugstore for luncheon. They spread their map out on the table to plan a stopover for the night. At this, the druggist and his assistant began to offer advice. A customer came into the store and he, too, came over to join the discussion. As a result, their lunch took them an hour longer than they had anticipated and they had to hurry to make their destination before nightfall.

“Ye Old Rustic Cabins” came into sight just as the sun dipped behind the horizon. Six little two-room log cabins, each with a bright red roof and white curtains at the windows, nestled cozily in a green valley.

“Aren’t they cute?” Lenora exclaimed. “Let’s take the one on the end.”

Shirley drove off the highway and stopped before the largest cabin, evidently the home of the proprietor. A gray-haired, wiry little man came out to the car and greeted them with a friendly nod. Arrangements were soon completed and the girls installed in Lenora’s choice of the small cabins.

“There doesn’t seem to be anyone else in any of the other cabins,” Shirley reported, coming in with the last suitcase.

“Then we can really be alone,” Lenora said. “Girls! Come look! A real stone fireplace. They even furnish the wood and matches!”

There were two rooms, each with a large double bed. Lenora decided on a room all to herself and Beverly and Shirley shared the other.

Darkness came very rapidly, it seemed to the girls, and rather than sit in the glare of the bare electric bulb suspended from the ceiling, they yielded to Lenora’s desire and built a fire in the fireplace. In the warm, flickering glow of this they sat and planned the next day’s journey. At last, when the fire had died to smouldering embers, they went to bed and silence settled within the cabin.

In about a half-hour Beverly heard a “Pssst!” from the next room. She smiled but did not answer. After a moment it came again.

“Are you asleep?” Lenora asked in a loud whisper.

“How can we sleep?” Shirley retorted. “What do you want?”

“Do you hear that noise?” Lenora asked.

“Crickets,” Beverly supplied.

“Do they do that all night?” Lenora demanded.

“Yes,” Shirley said with a giggle, “they do that all night.”

“How are we going to get any sleep?” Lenora demanded. “Isn’t there any way to stop them?”

“Go to sleep and forget about them,” Shirley advised. “Good night.”

There was silence while Lenora thought over the problem of the crickets. Then:

“Beverly! Shirley! Did you hear that?”

“What is it this time?” Shirley asked with a sigh.

“Someone is trying to get in,” Lenora hissed. “Hear him?”

“Imagination!” Shirley said, retreating again under the covers.

“I don’t hear anything,” added Beverly.

“There is someone at the door,” Lenora insisted. “M—maybe it is an animal. A wolf, maybe. Or a bear.”

“It is probably just a little termite making himself at home in the ceiling,” Shirley mumbled sleepily.

“Suppose it is a bear and he chews the tires off your car,” Lenora continued.

“A bear!” Shirley scoffed. “You’re dreaming.”

“But there is something out there,” Lenora insisted.

“I’ll go and see,” Beverly offered, “or we’ll never get any sleep.”

“If you need help just scream,” Lenora said.

Beverly opened the door and stood there silently for a moment. The air was cool and fragrant. She could see hundreds of stars overhead and the white, deserted ribbon of highway beyond the section of green lawn. There was no sound of any kind. She left the door open and walked out to the car. There was no sign of life. She went back to report that all was well.

She had been in bed about five minutes when there was a scramble in the next room and Lenora let out a scream. Beverly and Shirley leaped from bed while sounds of a struggle and Lenora’s piercing screams continued. They ran into their friend’s room and, stumbling in the darkness, Beverly found the overhead light.

In the sudden glare the girls blinked and Lenora let out another shriek. From her one hand dangled a gray squirrel, squirming in fright while she clutched his bushy tail.

Lenora let go and the squirrel darted into the dark region under the bed. Beverly opened the door and the small creature scampered out into the night. Behind him he left chaos. Shirley was convulsed with laughter; Lenora was grinning foolishly and carefully caressing one injured finger; Beverly laughingly got out the first-aid kit.

“He probably came in when I opened the door to look for Lenora’s bear,” Beverly offered.

“Perhaps he had a store of nuts in the chimney,” added Shirley.

“I don’t see why he had to pick on my bed and wave his tail in my face,” Lenora said frowning. “What did I ever do to him that he had to scare me so?”

“Every time I think of you holding that poor squirrel by the tail——” Shirley collapsed in a gale of laughter.

“Poor squirrel, nothing!” Lenora retorted. “He bit me.”

“And you wanted the wild, primitive life,” Shirley giggled. “Wait until the girls at home hear about this!”

“It ought to be good for a Sunday feature article in the Tribune,” added Beverly, eyes twinkling.

“If either of you dare to breathe a word of this,” Lenora threatened, “I’ll—I’ll—well, I’ll think of something,” she added darkly.

They were on their way early the next morning. Each day seemed to bring something new. They traveled highways shaded and green, and some flat and dusty in the white glare of the sun. They grew travel-stained and weary. Sometimes their eyes ached from watching the ribbon of road unfold endlessly before them. At other times they came upon cool green spots and lingered dreamily to watch ducks on a pond or cows grazing peacefully in a wide meadow. They were seeing their America—the homes, the factories, the throbbing cities and peaceful farms, the might and richness of their native land—and their hearts swelled with pride at being a part of it.

The girls wasted very little time in stopovers at any of the points they visited. They had not planned a direct route across the country, preferring to deviate and see the spots which interested them, yet linger not too long in any one place. It meant many more miles of driving, but it meant more interesting experiences and adventures, too.

Their first important goal was Yellowstone Park.

“I want to see the bears,” Lenora had told them firmly.

“We want the bears to see you,” Beverly returned mischievously.

“But for goodness’ sake, don’t try holding one of them by the tail as you did that squirrel,” Shirley giggled.

“Miss Parker,” Lenora said coldly, “I shall ignore you.”

At last on a cool sunny morning they entered Cody, Wyoming. They lunched leisurely and got their first glimpse of actual western scenes. They visited Buffalo Bill’s home and took pictures of the statue erected to his memory. Then they started the drive over the thrilling Cody Road, past the Shoshone Dam, through the Shoshone National Forest and the Stone Cliffs, where Lenora’s imagination was put to active use in picking out fanciful figures formed by the stone. They passed great snow-dotted mountains, wide, flower-filled rolling meadows, more and more impressed with the beauty of the country.

They drove up to the Canyon Hotel just as the sun was setting. After getting settled and having dinner in the huge dining room, the girls wrote post cards to their friends at home. Later they took a bus trip to the bear feeding grounds where they watched grizzly bears and black bears, some with clumsy little cubs at their side, amble out of the forest to partake of the bits of food placed by the rangers. When it grew dark the girls returned to the hotel to enjoy the music in the lounge. It was there that Lenora got her brilliant idea.

“Let’s take the sunrise trip to Mount Washburn.”

“Sunrise?” Shirley inquired skeptically.

“We leave here at four o’clock in the morning,” Lenora continued enthusiastically. “We’ll see the sunrise from the top of the mountain and see some big-horned sheep——”

“Can you guarantee a sunrise?” Beverly wanted to know.

“Yes,” added Shirley, “suppose it rains?”

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” Lenora chided. “Let’s go. We can have two breakfasts if we do.”

“All right, but wait until you have to get up at three in the morning!” Shirley warned.

That gave Lenora pause for a moment. However, she tossed her head in disdain.

“I guess I can do it if you can.”

When it came time to crawl out of bed in the dark, early morning it was Lenora who did the grunting and groaning, despite her words. They had doughnuts and hot chocolate in the spotless kitchen, and afterward climbed into their bus and were whisked away in the grayness of the morning.

It was cold on the mountain top, but they went into the snug little ranger cabin for warmth and chatted pleasantly with the forest man. The sun, when it appeared over the edge of the world, was a glory of gold and red. Lenora, her precious camera loaded with color film, was busy all the while.

The girls returned to the hotel for breakfast and donned slacks for a hike to the bottom of the canyon. It was a two-mile walk from the hotel to the lodge where began the trail which led to the bottom of the waterfall. The descent was easily accomplished and they stood in the spray of the falls towering above them and marveled at the swift flow of water and the rainbow formed in the mist by the sun’s rays. The walls of the canyon rose around them, great rocky cliffs, a myriad of blending colors. They lingered there, loath to leave the rushing water and beauty of the spot.

They took the climb back to the rim of the canyon in easy stages, stopping often to rest and admire the view. By the time they reached the hotel again they were hot and tired and more than ready for luncheon.

Immediately after lunch they left for Old Faithful, driving over wide, smooth roads, now and then catching glimpses of deer and bear in the woods.

They stopped briefly at Norris Geyser Basin and then at the Fountain Paint Pots to marvel at the geysers and the boiling springs.

The rugged, dark wood of the Old Faithful Inn was a contrast to the light juniper wood of the Canyon Hotel and, the girls felt, more symbolic of the west they had hoped to find.

They wasted little time indoors, for they were anxious to see Old Faithful in action. They had to wait several minutes for the geyser to perform, but when it did, they felt again wonder at the works of nature. The spouting white water and steam against the vivid blue sky was a scene they would always remember. That night, with the bright arc light playing on the geyser, it seemed even more impressive—a giant white fountain in the blackness of night, dimming even the glow of the stars in the milky way overhead.

The next morning they rose early to go horseback riding. The small, alert cow ponies, gentle and surefooted, trotted lightly over the narrow trails. Through pine-scented woods, cool and shadowed, across trickling, narrow streams, they rode to the foot of Mystic Falls, a swift mountain stream tumbling down a rocky bed. The beauty of the surrounding country was breathtaking—the coolness and silence, the narrow mountain trails and flat plains, the colorful wild flowers and the occasional twitter of birds mingled with the thud, thud of their ponies’ hoofs.

“Ypeee!” Lenora yelled suddenly, breaking the silence.

Her horse reared and plunged ahead, startled. When she had quieted him she trotted meekly back into the single file of riders.

“I was only practicing to be a cow girl,” she grinned.

“You’d make a right smart one, Ma’am,” their cowboy guide laughed.

“You sounded more like a wild Indian,” Shirley added.

That evening they attended an illustrated lecture in the open air amphitheater in back of the ranger station and went to bed early in preparation for their long drive the next day.

It was a cool, clear morning when they left Old Faithful and headed westward. They came to a spot where workmen had been busy cutting down trees to clear a parking area for automobiles. Lenora insisted that Shirley stop the car so that she could obtain a pine cone from the fallen tree, arguing that it was not defacing the beauty of the park since the tree was already destroyed.

Shirley stopped the car and the three girls got out. Lenora, a candy bar in one hand, was busily seeking a choice pine cone when she heard a stir in the underbrush and looked up to see a big black bear advancing toward her. The bear stood squarely in Lenora’s path, blocking her retreat to the car and her friends. His nose wiggled inquisitively and his paws dabbed at the air. He squatted on his haunches, his eyes on Lenora.

“Beverly! Shirley!” The blonde girl shrieked. “Look at the bear!” Tales the ranger had told them the previous night ran through Lenora’s head. It was not a common occurrence for bears to attack people without some provocation but it had been known to happen.

“You look at him,” Shirley giggled unfeelingly, a few yards away. “He has his eye on you.”

“Do something,” Lenora cried. “I don’t like the gleam in his eye.”

“He is looking at your candy,” Beverly called.

“Do you suppose he is vicious?” Lenora wanted to know.

“Animals are always unpredictable,” was Shirley’s comforting rejoinder. “He might take it into his head to kiss you or he might decide to take a piece out of you.”

“I refuse to be a box lunch for any bear,” Lenora announced firmly. “Go away, Mr. Bruin!”

The bear sat calmly where he was, his sleepy eyes fixed on Lenora, his pink tongue now and then licking his lips as if in anticipation.

“Where’s a ranger?” Lenora demanded. “I want a ranger.”

“We’ll wait for you in the car,” Shirley said as she and Beverly made their escape and settled down gleefully in the automobile to watch proceedings.

“Don’t forget,” Shirley called. “It is dangerous to feed the bears!”

“It isn’t my idea—it’s his!” Lenora retorted. “Go away, Mr. Bear!”

“We’ll have to take a picture of this,” Shirley giggled to Beverly, reaching into the back seat for Lenora’s camera.

Unknown to her, they took several pictures of Lenora looking askance at the bear and trying to get past him to the car.

At last the bear, as if tired of waiting, shuffled to the side of the road, rose on his hind legs and proceeded to rub his back against a tree trunk, his front feet pawing the air while he scratched.

Lenora sprinted for the car and dived into the back seat at the same moment Shirley started the motor.

“Saved by a flea!” Lenora sighed. “Do bears have fleas?”

“How should we know?” Beverly laughed. “Have you had enough of bears?”

“He would have made a beautiful rug,” was Lenora’s dreamy reply.