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[Illustration: Run! Run for Your Lives!]
THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS ALONG THE HUDSON
Or
Fighting Fire in Sleepy Hollow
by
LAURA DENT CRANE
Author of The Automobile Girls at Newport, The Automobile
Girls in the Berkshires, Etc., Etc.
Illustrated
Philadelphia
Henry Altemus Company
Copyright, 1910, by Howard E. Altemus
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Unexpected Always Happens 7
II. Mr. Stuart Confides a Secret 16
III. Rocking Chair Adventures 25
IV. A Cry for Help 45
V. The Motor Cyclist 52
VI. A Forest Scrimmage 58
VII. A Night with the Gypsies 76
VIII. The Haunted Pool 83
IX. Ten Eyck Hall 94
X. An Attic Mystery 107
XI. José Has an Enemy 117
XII. Nosegays and Tennis 129
XIII. Cross Questions and Crooked Answers 141
XIV. In the Deep Woods 150
XV. The Hermit 158
XVI. A Surprise 168
XVII. Zerlina 180
XVIII. The Masquerade 189
XIX. A Recognition 195
XX. The Fire Brigade 203
XXI. Fighting the Fire 210
XXII. Explanations 220
XXIII. An Old Romance 227
XXIV. Good-bye To Ten Eyck Hall 235
XXV. Conclusion 253
THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS ALONG THE HUDSON
CHAPTER I--THE UNEXPECTED ALWAYS HAPPENS
"I think I'd make a pretty good housemaid," said Barbara, on her knees,
energetically polishing the floor of the cottage parlor.
"Only housemaids don't wear gloves and all-over aprons and mobcaps,"
replied Mollie.
"And they don't protect their skins from dust with cold cream," added
Barbara, teasingly. "Do they, Molliekins?"
"Oh well," replied Mollie, "duty and beauty rhyme, and every woman ought
to try and keep her looks, according to the beauty pages in all the
papers."
"Poor old Molliekins!" exclaimed her sister. "Crowsfeet and gray hair at
fifteen!"
"Going on sixteen," corrected Mollie, as she gave a finishing rub to the
mahogany center table, a relic of more prosperous days, and flourished
an old, oily stocking that made an excellent polisher. "But the papers
do say that automobiling is very harmful to the complexion and the face
should be protected by layers of cold cream and powder, and a veil on
top of that."
"I'm willing to take the chance," laughed Barbara, "if ever I get
another one."
"I suppose Ruth is so busy getting ready for her six weeks' trip abroad
that she won't have much time for her 'bubble' this August," observed
Mollie. "But, dear knows, we can't complain. There never was a rich girl
who knew how to make other people happy as well as she does. Sometimes I
think she is really a fairy princess, disguised as a human being, who is
just gratifying her desire to do nice things for girls like us."
"No, she is no fairy," commented Barbara. "That is why we love her so.
She is just a jolly, nice girl and as human as anybody. When she asked
us to go to Newport it was because she really wanted us. She has often
told me, since, that she had been planning the trip for months, but the
girls she knew were not exactly the kind who would have fallen into such
a scheme. Gladys Le Baron would never have done, you see, at that time,
because she always wanted Harry Townsend hanging about."
Harry Townsend, our readers will recall, appeared in a former volume of
this series, "The Automobile Girls at Newport." He was the famous youth
known to the police as "The Boy Raffles," whose mysterious thefts were
the puzzle of the society world. It was Barbara Thurston, by her grit
and intelligence, who finally brought the criminal to justice, though
not before Newport had been completely bewildered by a number of
inexplicable jewelry robberies.
Following the visit to Newport came another delightful trip to the
Berkshire Hills. The romantic rescue of a little girl whose birth had
been concealed from her rich white relatives by her Indian grandmother;
Mollie Thurston lost in an unexplored forest; the thrilling race between
an air ship and an automobile--these and other exciting adventures were
described in the second volume of the series entitled "The Automobile
Girls in the Berkshires."
"How hot it is!" continued Bab. "Suppose we have some lemonade. These
forest fire mists are really fine ashes and they make me quite thirsty."
She polished away vigorously while Mollie tripped off to make a cooling
drink in the spotless little kitchen. Except for the tinkle of ice
against glass the house was very still. Outside, not a breeze was
stirring, and the meadows were draped in a curious, smoky mist. The sun
hung like a red ball in the sky; the air was hot and heavy. The flowers
in the garden borders drooped their heads in spite of persistent and
frequent waterings. Three months' drought had almost made a desert of
Kingsbridge. The neat little scrap of a lawn was turning brown in
patches, like prematurely gray hair, Barbara said. Even the birds were
silent, and Mollie's cherished family of bantams, a hen, a rooster and
one chick, crouched listlessly in the shadow of the hedge.
Just then the stillness was broken by the distant crunch-crunch of an
automobile. But the girls were too intent on what they were doing to
take any notice until it stopped at their own front gate, and the sound
of gay laughter and voices floated up the walk. Mollie and Barbara
rushed together to the front porch.
"It's Ruth herself!" they cried in the same breath, running down the
steps without stopping to remove their long gingham aprons and dusting
caps. "And there's mother, too," exclaimed Mollie.
"And Mr. Stuart and Aunt Sallie, all complete!" cried Barbara.
In a moment the three girls were engaged in a sort of triangular embrace
while the others looked smilingly on.
"Well, young ladies," said Mr. Stuart, "are those automobile coats
you're wearing, and bonnets, too?"
"I think they would do pretty well for motoring," replied Barbara, "they
are specially made for keeping out the dust."
"They are just as cute as they can be," said loyal Ruth, who was too
tender-hearted to let her friends be teased.
"But where on earth did you come from, Ruth?" asked Mollie. "We were
just talking about you a moment ago. We thought, of course, you were
still in Denver, and lo and behold! you appear in person in
Kingsbridge."
"Well, papa had a call East," replied Ruth, bubbling with suppressed
joy, "and I had a call, too. Papa's was business and mine was--well,
just to call on you." By that time they had reached the cool,
half-darkened little parlor whose bare floor and mahogany furniture
reflected their faces in the recently polished surfaces.
"Oho!" cried Mr. Stuart. "I see now where Queen Mab and her fairies have
been working in their pinafores and caps."
"Take them off now, girlies," said Mrs. Thurston, "and get a pitcher of
ice water. I know our friends must be thirsty after their dusty ride."
But Mollie, who had already disappeared, came back in a few minutes
bearing a large tray of glasses and a tall glass pitcher against whose
sides cracked ice tinkled musically.
"That's the most delightful sound I've heard to-day," exclaimed Mr.
Stuart, and even Aunt Sallie took a second glass without much urging.
"Where is our little Indian Princess from the Berkshire Hills?" asked
Mr. Stuart suddenly. "One of my reasons for coming East was to see
Eunice. Ruth says she is the prettiest, little brown bird that ever flew
down from a mountain to live in a gilded cage. What have you done with
her, Mrs. Thurston?"
"I have had to give her up, Mr. Stuart," Mrs. Thurston replied, sadly.
"And I was beginning to love Eunice like one of my own children. You
cannot guess how quickly she learned the ways of our home. She soon
forgot the old, wild mountain life and her Indian grandmother's
teaching. But just now and then, if one of us was the least bit cross
with her, she would run away to the woods; and then only Mollie, whom
she always loved best, could bring her home again."
"Oh, how I hated to have her leave us!" Mollie declared. "But after the
one winter with mother, Eunice's rich uncle, Mr. Latham, came here to
see her. He was so charmed with her beauty and shy lovely manners that
he took her back to his home in the Berkshires to spend the summer with
him. This fall Mr. Latham is going to put Eunice in a girl's boarding
school in Boston, so that she can be nearer his place at Lenox. He wants
to be able to see her oftener. The dream of little Eunice's life is to
some day ask 'The Automobile Girls' to visit her."
"Well, girls," said Ruth, as they moved toward the front porch, leaving
their three elders to chat in the parlor, "I suppose you know I've got
something in my mind again."
"No, honor bright, we don't," declared Barbara. "Isn't Europe about as
much as you can support at one time?"
"But Europe doesn't happen until next month, children, and after
finishing his business in the East, papa is going to be kept very busy
for at least a month in the West. In the meantime Aunt Sallie and I have
no place to go but out, and nothing to do but play around until it's
time to sail. And so, honored friends, I'm again thrown upon your
company for as long a time as you can endure my presence. And this is
the plan that's been working in my head all the way on the train: What
do you say to a lovely motor trip up along the Hudson to Sleepy Hollow?
Don't you think it would be fine? Grace can go, and we'll have our same
old happy crowd. It's really only one day's trip to Tarrytown, where we
will stop for as long as we like, and from there we can motor about the
country and see some of the fine estates. It is a historic place, you
know, girls, full of romance and old stories and legends. We can even
motor up into the hills if we like."
"It would be too perfect!" cried the other two girls.
"I'm just in the mood for adventures, anyway," declared Barbara. "I've
been feeling it coming over me for a week."
"When are we going?" asked Mollie.
"Well, why not to-morrow," replied Ruth, "while the spirit moves us?"
"O joy, O bliss, O rapture unconfined!" sang Mollie, dancing up and down
the porch in her delight.
"You see, there is no special getting ready to do," went on Ruth. "The
chauffeur will go over 'Mr. A. Bubble,' this afternoon, and put him in
good shape. He's been acting excellently well for such a hardworking old
party. I mean 'A. Bubble,' of course."
"Does mother know yet, Ruth?" asked Barbara, with a sudden misgiving.
"Oh, yes, she knows all about it. Papa and I laid the whole plan before
her when we picked her up in the village. She was agreeable to
everything, but of course she would be. She is such a dear! Aunt Sallie
was the only one who was a bit backward about coming forward. She seemed
to think that the forest fires would devour us if we dared venture
outside of New York. But, of course, they are only in the mountains and
there is no danger from them. It took me an age to gain her consent. If
she has any more time to think about it she may back out at the eleventh
hour."
"Is it all settled, girls?" called Mr. Stuart's voice through the open
window.
"Oh, yes," chorused three gay voices at once.
"Well, I think we'd better be going up to the hotel, then," cried Miss
Sallie. "If I'm to be suffocated by smoke and cinders I think I shall
need all the rest I can get beforehand."
"But, dearest Aunt Sallie," said Ruth, patting her aunt's peach-blossom
cheek, "the fires are nowhere near Sleepy Hollow. They are miles off in
the mountains. And truly, in your heart, I believe you like these little
auto jaunts better than any of us."
"Not at all," replied the inflexible Miss Stuart. "I am much too old and
rheumatic for such nonsense."
Whereupon she jumped nimbly into the car.
The others all laughed. They understood Miss Sallie pretty well by this
time. "She has a stern exterior, but a very melting interior," Barbara
used to say of her.
"Don't fail to be ready by ten, girls," called Ruth as she followed her
aunt, while Mr. Stuart was offering his adieux to Mrs. Thurston.
"But, Bab," whispered Mollie, as the automobile disappeared around a
curve in the road, "what about the forest fires?"
"Sh-h!" said Barbara, with, a finger on her lip.
And they followed their mother into the house.