Читать книгу The Motor Girls at Lookout Beach: or, In Quest of the Runaways - Penrose Margaret - Страница 6

Springing to the back of one of the big field horses, Farmer Stevens responded to the frantic summons of the auto horn, and started with the pair up the hill to the assistance of Cora, and the righting of her car, that almost swung between the narrow ledge of land, and the great gulf of mountainous space that lay just beneath the banked up highway.

“Oh, I am so afraid that Cora is hurt,” wailed Belle. “We can’t see her, and she must have been tossed over into the tonneau of the car.”

“She was on the right hand forward seat,” gasped Bess, as both girls ran along to the spot where the Whirlwind was ditched, “but she may have sprung out to avoid being thrown down the gully.”

Although Bess was but a short distance behind Cora when the latter’s car met with the mishap, it now seemed a long space of roadway that lay between them. Of course Bess had to bring her car to a safe place, at the side of the thoroughfare, and Belle had to help some, so that it had taken a minute or two to do this, before they could run to Cora. In the meantime Mr. Stevens came along with his horses, and Hope, signalled by the tooting of the horn of the Flyaway, had called two of his hired men from the fields, so that the ditched auto and the danger to its driver met with ready assistance.

“Oh, if Cora should be – ” Then Belle checked herself. She had an unfortunate habit of predicting trouble.

Mr. Stevens left his horses by the rail fence through which the Whirlwind had passed without hesitation, and Bess was beside him just as he reached the big car.

“Oh, where is she!” wailed the girl, unable longer to restrain her fears.

There was the car, partly overturned but seemingly not damaged. Neither within nor without was there a sign of Cora!

“She must have been thrown down the embankment,” said the man anxiously. “She surely is not with the machine.”

Bess now joined Belle and ran to the edge of the cliff. Almost afraid to look, they peered over the brink.

“Where can she be?” breathed Belle, her hands clasped nervously.

“Cora! Cora, dear!” called Bess. “Where are you?”

“Here!” came what seemed to be a very faint reply.

“Where?” shouted the girls, now making their way down, step by step, over the perilous cliffs.

Farmer Stevens knew every inch of that hill. He often had to rescue from its uncertainties either a sheep or a young cow. He also knew that precisely where the machine was ditched, the hill shelved to a perfectly straight bank, so that instead of an incline the wall of earth actually seemed to run under the surface.

“If she went over there,” he told himself, “she never stopped until – she landed.”

“Oh, Cora!” called the girls again, “can’t you tell us where you are?”

“Look out there, young ladies,” cautioned Mr. Stevens, “or you may go down – double quick!”

Hope was scaling the rocks like a wild creature. The two hired men were almost jumping from cliff to cliff making straight for the clump of hemlock trees at the very edge of the stream, that, in its quiet way, defied the great hill above it.

“Here she is!” called Hope. “Here in the – bed of hemlock!”

To Bess and Belle, not acquainted with the peculiarities of the flat-branched evergreen, finding Cora in “a bed of hemlock” was rather a startling discovery, but to Hope – what nest could have been safer! Cora had fallen over the cliff into the soft branches of a tree that jutted out from the shelving earth.

“Are you hurt?” asked the girl from the farm, looking up into the branch of the big green tree.

“I don’t know – I don’t think so, but I feel queer. I must get down,” Cora managed to say.

By this time the others had reached the spot. Bess and Belle were almost hysterical lest Cora should lose her hold and again fall to a more dangerous landing. But the hired men stationed themselves under the tree, and, with their strong arms netted beneath the giant evergreen, they waited for Mr. Stevens to give an order.

“All ready?” asked Mr. Stevens.

“Yes, sir,” replied the men.

“Young lady, can you get free of the branches?” he called to Cora.

“I am directly over a great hole,” she answered timidly, “and I am afraid I cannot hold on another minute.”

“Then drop,” said the farmer. “We will catch you. Don’t be afraid. You can’t escape the arms of Sam and Frank!”

“Oh, if she should go to the bottom,” wailed Belle, covering her face with her trembling hands and uttering sighs and sobs. Bess was more courageous, but equally frightened.

Sam and Frank stood like human statues. Clasped hand to wrist, their sunburned arms looked strong and secure.

Presently there was a fluttering in the leaves – a slide through the branches and Cora dropped – down on the human net of arms, safe, and seemingly sound, but too weak to recover herself at once from the strange position.

Gently as could a woman, these farm hands lowered their burden to the soft bed of moss at their feet. Belle and Bess leaned over the quiet form, while Hope hurried to the stream below for some water, which she quickly brought in the strong cup improvised from her stiffened sunbonnet.

“This is spring water,” she said. “Swallow a few mouthsfull.”

Cora opened her lips and sipped from the strange cup. Then she turned and tried to rise, growing stronger each instant, and determined to “pull herself together.”

“Wasn’t it silly?” she asked, finally.

“Wasn’t it awful! Are you much hurt?” inquired Belle, fanning Cora with her motor hood.

“Not a bit – that I can tell,” she answered. “That natural – hammock – was a miracle.”

She attempted to rise, but fell back rather suddenly.

“I’ve got a twist somewhere,” she said. “I think my shoulder is sprained.”

Without waiting to be asked to do so Frank, the younger of the farm hands, put his arm about Cora’s waist, and brought her to her feet.

“Oh, thank you,” she stammered rather shyly. “I am sure you have helped me wonderfully. I don’t know how to thank you – all.”

“You can stand, eh?” asked Mr. Stevens, satisfaction showing in his voice, and ruddy face.

“I suppose you feel – that I should have taken your offer for the horses?” she remarked with confusion.

“Well, there is always a first time,” he replied, “but since you are no worse off you must not complain. Guess the boys had better lift you to the road. Then we will see if you can run your car.”

Again, in that straightforward way, peculiar to those who know when they’re right and then go ahead, the “boys” simply picked Cora up, she putting her arms over their shoulders, and while the three other girls wended their way over the cliff, Cora was carried safely back to the spot where still lay the helpless Whirlwind.