Читать книгу The Motor Girls at Lookout Beach: or, In Quest of the Runaways - Penrose Margaret - Страница 5

“Mother will be so disappointed not to get her berries,” remarked Bess, as she and Belle, in their little Flyaway, got out on the road, following Cora.

“But Cora did wonderfully well, I think,” replied the sister, “to get the better of that horrid woman. She was going to sell two crates, and she only actually sold the crate which she insisted Andy should pay for. It takes Cora – she is a born leader.”

“It certainly was diplomatic,” agreed Bess, “and I suppose we can come out to-morrow for the others. Mother was not particular about having them done up at once. But weren’t those girls queer? And how stage-like little Nellie looked with those fierce dogs at her side, and the boys standing around her? I declare I think that would make a play.”

“Better try your hand at it,” suggested Belle. “I always thought you had some hidden talent. It may now be discovered.”

“And do you think the girls are going to do something desperate?” asked Bess, throwing in more speed, and brushing along at a lively rate over the broad country road.

“I am sure they are going to do something very unusual, but whether it may be desperate, or simply foolish, would be impossible to surmise with any degree of certainty,” replied the judicious Belle. “I fancy they intend to – leave the strawberry patch, at least.”

Cora turned, and called to Bess to look out for the “Thank-you-ma’ams” that were so plentifully scattered over the hill they had just come upon. Some were deep and long, she said, and with the ever-increasing grade might stall an overworked engine. Following the advice, Bess changed to low gear, and crawled up and down the hills, after the pace set by Cora.

One very steep hill confronted them. The engines of both cars were fairly “gasping for breath,” and Cora, knowing that the hot radiators could cook anything from cabbage to pork and beans, realized that it was not wise to start up the hill until the engines had been cooled off. Consequently the cars stopped near a spring house at the roadside, and the girls alighted to get a refreshing drink. The door was unlocked, and a clear, clean glass stood on a small shelf, just inside the low building.

“Did you ever see anything so delightful?” exclaimed Belle, while Cora dipped the glass in the square, cement-lined pool, and brought it up filled with the coolest, and most sparkling water imaginable.

“And was it just built for – roadsters?” asked Bess, taking the proffered drink.

“Oh, no indeed,” said Cora with a laugh. “These spring houses are the farm refrigerators. In this, every evening, I suppose many, many quarts of milk are put to cool for the creamery. I have often seen a spring house just filled with the big milk cans.”

“Oh,” answered Bess, intelligently. “That’s a good idea. Just think how much money we could save on ice if we had a spring house.”

“Maybe if we had one, you would be able to cool off sometimes,” remarked her sister teasingly. “You look as if you needed a dip this very minute.”

The red cheeks of Bess certainly did look overheated, and the way she plied her handkerchief betrayed her discomfort.

“An internal dip will do nicely, thank you,” answered the girl. “I don’t see that I am any warmer than the rest of you.”

“Here comes a girl from the house,” said Cora, as down the path a girl, in generous sunbonnet, and overgenerous apron, was seen to approach.

“Do they wear their sunbonnets to bed?” asked Belle. “I am sure there is no sun now.”

“Father will be down in a minute with the team,” called out the girl, much to the surprise of the motor girls.

“Mercy!” exclaimed Belle, “are we going to be arrested?”

“I think not,” replied Cora; “however, we are trespassing, though I did think farmer folks very – liberal, especially with their spring water.”

“The girl is smiling like a ‘basket of chips,’” said Bess, almost in a whisper. “It is not likely that she is angry with us at all.”

“Did you get a nice drink?” asked the strange girl, with unmistakable friendliness.

“Oh, yes, thank you very much,” spoke up Cora, “but I am afraid we are trespassing.”

“Not at all,” said the girl. “My name is Hope – Hope Stevens,” she said, in the most delightfully simple manner. “I always like to introduce myself – ’specially to young girls.”

“We are very glad to know you, Hope,” said Cora. “This is Miss Bess Robinson, this Miss Belle Robinson, and I am Cora Kimball.”

“Oh, I know who you are now,” declared Hope. “They call you the Motor Girls.”

“I am afraid they do,” agreed Bess. “But then we are just plain girls as well – our motors do not make us – we try to make them – go!”

“That is what father said when he saw you come over yonder hill, when he left the field to get the team. Do you know he makes more money hauling folks with automobiles up this hill, than he does on the farm? He always stops his work and gets the team ready when he sees an auto stuck out here.”

“Oh, that is what he intended to do,” said Cora. “Well, it was very good of him to be so prompt, but we are always able to make our own hills – I don’t really think we will need him.”

“Lots of folks think that way,” said Hope. “But, of course, you ought to know – best. Do you think you can get up the hill?”

“Yes. You see these are practically new machines,” explained Cora, “and we have been taught to run them carefully.”

“Pa says that girls are more careful than men,” added Hope, and Belle kept her eyes on the pretty face beneath the bonnet. She thought she had never seen such dimples, and such splendidly marked brows.

“There comes pa now,” went on the girl. “He will be – ”

“Disappointed, of course. It was too bad for him to leave the fields,” said Cora.

“Well, the rest won’t hurt his poor back,” ventured Hope. “Pa works harder than any of the hired men, and these are very bad hills to farm.”

“Are you ready, young ladies?” called the man from the road, as he backed the sturdy team of horses up close to the Whirlwind. “I guess this little machine can hitch behind t’other.”

“Really, we do not think we will need any help,” said Cora, rather confused. “We always take hills without trouble.”

“Never been up this one though,” declared the farmer, with a shake of his broad-brimmed hat. “I reckon you’ll not be able to fly over the top.”

“It’s awfully good of you,” put in Bess. “But suppose we try? You see we do not want to break our records.”

“Plucky, all right,” the man commented. “Well, go ahead, and I’ll stop to chat with Hope. If you get stuck just give me five quick toots, and I’ll be there.”

The girls thanked him profusely, and after cranking up both the Flyaway and the Whirlwind, said good-bye to Hope and her father, and started off, both machines on low gear.

“It is steep,” remarked Belle to Bess. “Perhaps it would have been well to have taken his offer.”

“All right?” asked Cora from ahead, as she looked back.

“Thus far,” replied Bess, clutching the wheel with nervous energy, and slightly retarding the spark.

Suddenly the Whirlwind stopped – but only for an instant, for directly the big four-cylinder car began to back down the steep grade, while Bess and Belle shouted in terror for Cora to turn into the gutter!

Not knowing how deep and dangerous this gutter was, Cora directed the runaway machine well into the side, vainly trying to make the brakes hold.

The next moment there was a crash!

The Whirlwind, with Cora in the car, was ditched – turned over on its side!

Bess tooted the horn of the Flyaway frantically!

Then she was able to bring her car to a standstill, and run to Cora’s assistance.