Читать книгу The Outdoor Girls on a Hike - Stratemeyer Edward - Страница 7

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The young people sang again and yet again until they had exhausted their small repertoire.

Mr. Sibley sat back in his chair, the tips of his fingers pressed together, nodding with contentment.

When they stopped for lack of more material he smiled and got slowly from his chair.

“I’m glad you young folks can sing like that,” he said. “I’d begun to believe that all any of you cared for these days was jazz——”

“Oh, Dad, you know better than that!” Stella reproached him. “We love jazz, of course. How else could we dance? But this sort of thing,” with a gesture toward the scattered music, “is what we always come back to.”

“Good!” said Mr. Sibley gravely. “No very great harm can come to you as long as ‘that is the sort of thing you always come back to.’ Good night, you rogues. Now I’m going away so that you can turn on jazz. Good night.”

But somehow, the jazz had temporarily lost its charm. In response to a general request Clem Field tuned in to some fine organ music. To the poetry of a Bach fugue Stella alternately served refreshments and joined in a discussion of the proposed hiking trip.

Clem and Hal were inclined to be dubious when they heard of the plan, made by the girls only that afternoon. The incident of the gypsies as related to them by Irene—with all the trimmings that Irene could invent—only served to strengthen them in their belief that a hike of the sort the girls proposed was at best a hazardous undertaking.

“Five girls have no business hiking alone through all sorts of country,” said Clem. “I don’t like the idea at all.”

“But you see,” said Stella, as she passed the cake, “it isn’t as though it were just any group of girls starting out on any sort of hike. It’s the Outdoor Girls, you know, and there’s a difference.”

“Oh, of course,” said Hal, with elaborate scorn. “It’s a protection, I suppose, a sort of invisible armor. You should carry a banner with you. ‘We are the Outdoor Girls of Deepdale. Harm us at your peril.’”

“Might be a good idea, at that,” chuckled Irene. “They say advertizing always pays.”

When the party broke up at last, some two hours later, the determination of the girls to continue plans for the hike were not in the least affected by the out-spoken disapproval of the boys. If anything, they were the more determined to start as soon as the inevitable details could be arranged.

When Stella’s guests turned from her door, Clem offered to give them a lift home, an offer which was accepted by all but Hal and Carolyn.

“It’s such a heavenly night,” said the latter, “we think we’ll walk.”

Carolyn and Hal waved to Stella and to the gay crowd in Clem’s car, then turned down the dark street that led to Carolyn’s home.

The girl sighed, and Hal said quickly:

“Tired? Perhaps we should have gone in the car, after all.”

Carolyn shook her head.

“I’m not the least bit tired,” she said. “It’s lovely to be out in the fresh air. I feel as if I could walk for hours.”

“What is it, then?”

Carolyn hesitated, then said impetuously:

“I’m terribly worried, Hal. I hated to spoil the party, and so I pretended to forget all about that poor old man—Mr. Fennelson—and those things I left with him.”

“But you didn’t forget,” said Hal quickly. “I knew it, Carol, and I thought what a game little sport you were.”

A short silence fell between them while Carolyn looked up at the stars and thought of a packet containing precious things.

“There was a locket,” she said, in a hushed voice. “It was only a very little locket, Hal, but it was mother’s and there was a picture of her in it——”

Hal squeezed her hand in quick sympathy.

“Don’t get to thinking that those things are gone,” he admonished her. “In a day or two Fennelson may be able to check up on his goods. Then we’ll know definitely. The probability is,” he added, “that your things are safe.”

They had reached the house of Mr. Joe Cooper, where Carolyn lived. The girl paused at the foot of the steps and held out her hand to him.

“We’ll hope so,” she said. “And in the meantime, you will do all you can to find out for me, won’t you, Hal?”

The boy took her hand in a firm grip.

“I guess,” he said, “you know you can count on me, Carol—for anything.”

But the next day came and the next. Several days passed, and the proprietor of the Fennelson Curio Shop lay raving in delirium. It became increasingly uncertain whether the thief, or thieves, when caught, would be arraigned for just plain theft or murder.

Carolyn haunted the shop where the robbery had taken place. The heirlooms, left her by a mother now dead, had always seemed precious to her. Now that there was a possibility that they might be lost to her forever, they assumed a double importance.

The Fennelson store was guarded by detectives. Nothing could be added to or taken from the stock until the proprietor’s recovery.

“But if I could just glance over what things are left,” said poor Carolyn again and again, “I could tell at once whether my heirlooms were among them!”

“Can’t be done, Miss.” The detective, though kindly, was firm. “What’s fair for one, is fair for all. If we let you have your way we would probably have half of Deepdale rummaging over Fennelson’s stock.”

“I’m not ‘half of Deepdale,’” Carolyn protested faintly. But the detective continued to shake his head and Carolyn walked away, discouraged.

Meanwhile, the Outdoor Girls went on with their plans for the hike. There were parental objections to be overruled; but this hurdle once taken successfully, they turned a totally deaf ear to the continued objections of Clem Field and Hal Duckworth.

They had one ally on their side, and this was Dick Blossom. Dick stoutly maintained his faith that the Outdoor Girls were amply able to look out for themselves.

“I don’t believe there is any more danger to them than there would be to five boys starting out on the same adventure,” he said. “The girls have proved often enough that they don’t need any one to think for them in case of an emergency. Why not leave them alone?”

“What a comfort you are, Dick,” Meg and Lota chorused.

Dick gave them a mystified look and shook his head.

“You not only look alike,” he complained, “but you even talk together. Now, I ask you! how is a poor fellow to know?”

Plans for the hike were at last matured to such an extent that the girls considered it safe to set the date of departure.

“Day after to-morrow, if it’s a nice day,” Stella announced, and her comrades shouted with glee.

“Two more sunrises will see us on our way,” sang Lota.

“There is just one thing we haven’t decided definitely, yet,” Stella continued. “That is the matter of baggage. Lota and Carolyn still insist that we shall need more clean things than we can carry in our knapsacks. The rest of us don’t care to be burdened with too much dunnage. Now, what shall we do?”

“As you say,” returned Irene promptly. “You are the leader, Stella, and, as far as I’m concerned, what you say goes.”

The others echoed the sentiment, though Carolyn and Lota looked a bit doubtful.

“Well,” said Stella, “if you really want my opinion, I think that the lighter we travel, the better it will be for us. We shan’t need any heavy camping outfit because we intend to stop at some hotel or farmhouse every night. We will carry a camp kit along with us and a few provisions. We can replenish when we pass through villages on our way.”

“Day after to-morrow is too far away,” sighed Lota. “I don’t know how I am going to wait that long!”

“We’ll have room in our packs for several changes of clothing,” Stella continued, with a smile for Lota. “And if we feel a crying need for clean things, there will always be brooks and streams along the way——”

“Where we can do a little dab of washing and hang things up on the bushes to dry,” finished Carolyn. “The way you tell it, Stella, makes it sound fascinatingly hoboish. Was I the one who spoke of luggage? Perish the thought!”

So another question—the last of any importance—was settled with satisfaction to every one. There was nothing left now but to wait for the day of the start.

This dawned clear and bright, with a cool breeze to temper the sun’s heat.

“Ideal! A day made to order,” said Meg, as she regarded the pleasant prospect from the window of her bedroom. “Hurry up, Lo. We mustn’t keep the others waiting!”

They had agreed the day before to meet at Farmers’ Tavern, an old deserted house on the edge of the woods.

“It’s a sort of central point for all of us,” Stella had pointed out “and as good a place as any to start from. We’ll meet there at nine o’clock sharp. Don’t any of you dare be late!”

The girls remembered that admonition when they were all gathered at the rendezvous—with the exception of Stella herself!

“She reminds us to be on time—and then turns up late,” remarked Lota.

“It’s one thing to preach, and another to practice,” returned Irene flippantly. “Anyway,” with a chuckle, “here come the boys.”

“Hal and Dick,” counted Carolyn. “But I don’t see Clem. I wonder if he isn’t going to get here to see us off.”

“Much you care,” said Irene mischieviously, “as long as Hal Duckworth is among those present!”

There was a burst of merry greetings as the boys reached them.

Hal went directly to Carolyn’s side—a fact which did not pass unremarked by the mischievous eyes of Miss Irene Moore.

“Straight as a homing pigeon,” she murmured, quite loud enough for Carolyn to hear.

“Listen, Carol,” said Hal, “I’ve word of Fennelson——”

“Yes?” breathed Carolyn. “What, Hal?”

“Nothing much yet. But the old chap is getting better. His recovery will probably be slow, but the authorities hope that they will be able to get some badly needed information from him before long.”

Before Carolyn could reply a motor car swept about a curve in the road and came to a stop within a few feet of them. Clem was in the driver’s seat with Stella beside him.

Stella jumped to the ground and ran toward them.

“Sorry to be late,” she called. “But it was all Clem’s fault. He told me to wait for him. I——”

Hal came forward suddenly and caught her wrist.

“What have you got here?” he demanded.