A DISMAL PROSPECT
Cheerfully chugging along was the _Clytie_. I say cheerfully, for the
rhythmical sounds of the exhaust, gentle enough in themselves thanks
to a good muffler, were accompanied by snatches of song from one or
another of the four girls who variously placed themselves about the
craft. Sylvia was at the wheel. Rose lolled on a locker near her,
regardless of the sun that was adding a tint of brown to the red in
her cheeks. Alice had sought the seclusion of the cabin for a time,
to readjust her wind-blown hair, and Hazel was boldly perched well up
in the bow, sitting tailor-fashion, like some modern figurehead. She
laughed gleefully when spray splashed up from the waves into her face.
"Oh, it is glorious! glorious!" she chanted in time to the throb of the
motor.
"Watch-girl, what of the outlook?" called Alice from the cabin. "Dost
see anything of that adventure yet?"
"No," answered Hazel. "I see a canoe with two young men in it
approaching, but they don't look at all romantic."
"Sheer off! Sheer off, Sylvia!" ordered Rose. "We are dedicated to
romance with a big R to-day. Nothing else will tempt us."
"I'd rather have a sandwich with a big S," said the steers-girl--or let
us be real feminists and say steersman.
"You did put the lunch aboard; didn't you?" asked Rose, a "horrible
suspicion gnawing at her vitals," as she confessed afterward.
"It is in the starboard locker," affirmed Sylvia.
"Right-O, my hearty!" sung out Hazel. "I saw you put it there!"
And so they chugged on, now and then saluting some other craft, canoe
or guide-boat, and an occasional motor boat, but the latter were rather
few. Steamers plied the waters of Raquette Lake, and they answered the
three tooting whistles of our girls in friendly salute.
"Alice, just look and see if the oil cups are full," begged Sylvia, as
they worked successfully through a little swell and wash raised by a
passing steamer. "I think the engine is getting too much, judging by
the odour of the exhaust. If they're more than half empty screw down
the feed a bit."
"Aye, aye, captain!" came the nautical return, and presently Alice, who
had inspected the engine, carried in a forward compartment, reported
that she had refilled the cups, and adjusted them so they would not
feed too much lubricant to the cylinders.
Then she filled a tiny wash basin in the cabin, and washed her hands
with violet-scented soap.
"I can't bear the smell of oil when I'm going to eat," she said, in
explanation.
"But you're not going to eat right away, my dear," said Sylvia. "We
aren't going to have lunch until we get to Osprey Island, and that
won't be until noon." For they had gone in rather a round-about way,
passing on the far side of Big Island to make the trip seem more worth
while.
"Oh, well, I'm ready for lunch whenever it's ready for me," Alice said,
as she pushed back the skin from the half-moons on her shapely fingers,
thus manicuring them, though they seldom needed it.
The girls took turns at the wheel, for each one was experienced in
this. The _Clytie_ was a perfect boat, and answered her helm well.
"It would have been nice if Natalie and her husband had come along,"
said Rose. "I do enjoy her so much."
"He's nice, too," added Alice.
"Of course."
"But it's nice to be by ourselves, once in a while," suggested Sylvia.
"I wonder how we are living up to our canons, girls?" she asked.
"You mean--up-to-dateness?" questioned Hazel.
"Exactly."
"Well, I think we can't be found fault with," was the opinion of Hazel.
"There is certainly nothing slow about this!"
"Oh, I didn't mean it that way," said Sylvia, hastily. "Speed isn't
everything."
"It is when one is motoring or boating," declared Hazel.
"A pity we couldn't run our cars up here," put in Alice, for there were
automobiles in the family of each of our friends--more than one in some
cases--and the girls were expert drivers.
"This is no place for cars," affirmed Sylvia. "Perhaps on our outing
next season we may go where we can use them."
"Or to some place where we can have a motor boat of our own," put in
Alice. "Wouldn't that be just lovely? To have a craft of our own, and
go on a long cruise!"
"It would," assented Rose. "But this is very nice, and remember that
this is our first outing. Do you intend to do this every year, Sylvia?"
she continued.
"If we can, yes. Of course we can't tell what new friends and
associations we may meet with when we start in at the different
colleges this fall, but I think we shall be able to keep to our
original plan, and have a 'get-together' session every summer to talk
over nowadays matters, and take our part in them."
"Bravo!" cried Hazel. "No new college friendship shall lure me away
from this, my first love--or, rather, my three best loves," and she
pointed her finger in turn at each of her chums.
"Is Saranac Lake like this?" asked Rose, and immediately she blushed.
"Oh, look at her!" cried Alice, tantalisingly. "She can't stop thinking
of Roy even now."
"I don't want to," answered Rose, more coolly than one would think from
the way she looked.
"Good!" Sylvia complimented her. "Dear Roy! I do hope he is making
progress. I ought to get a letter or telegram to-day. I expect it when
we get back."
"There are three Saranac Lakes," said Hazel, who had apparently been
"reading-up" on the subject. "They are Upper, Middle and Lower. But
none of them, at least to look at on the map, is as large as this one,
though Upper Saranac has a very long shore line, because it is so
cut up and twisted. There is about forty miles of shore line here at
Raquette."
"This lake suits me," murmured Alice, in lazy comfort.
"Oh, but I'm sure we'll find Saranac lovely," Hazel went on. "It's
about fifty miles from here, and they say there are more than sixty
other lakes and ponds which can be reached by short canoe trips from
Saranac, that is, the upper lake, which, of the three, is the one
nearest us."
"It must be pretty wet there," ventured Sylvia.
"It is, more water than land. I wish we could take the _Clytie_ up
there, but I don't suppose we can. Roy would appreciate this."
"No, it's hardly feasible. We couldn't carry her over land," Sylvia
said.
"Just where is Roy?" asked Hazel.
"At the Loneberg Camp, not far from Saranac Inn. Oh, I am so anxious to
see him," his sister went on, "and yet I don't want to get there too
soon, for if he is on the verge of recovery the doctor said it might
give him a setback to have the sudden joyful surprise of seeing us
girls."
"Yes, we're beautiful enough, collectively, if not individually, to
make a well youth faint, to say nothing of an invalid," declared Alice,
with dry humour.
"Well, let's enjoy life while we may," suggested Sylvia. "Poor Roy!"
and she sighed. "I hope he is having a good time."
But, had she only known it, Roy was having anything but a pleasant time
just then. He was not at all himself.
Osprey Island was reached in due season, and finding a secluded spot,
the girls moored their boat, went ashore and had lunch. Tea was made
over the alcohol stove on board, and they sat about in the shadowy
woods in delightful picnic fashion.
"Let's take a run over to Indian Point," suggested Hazel, when the
lunch was over, and they were thinking of starting back toward the
hotel.
"Shall we have time?" asked Sylvia, with a glance at the sun, which was
already well down in the west.
"Oh, it's only about a mile from here," pleaded Hazel, pointing off
to the west toward a body of land extending out into the lake, Indian
Point being the name given it.
"Well, all right," assented Sylvia. "We can make a quick run back. Come
on, let's start."
They went ashore at Indian Point, but they lingered longer than they
thought, for the sun was in a glory of red, golden, purple and violet
clouds when they went down to where they had left the boat.
"It will be quite dark when we get back," said Sylvia, "and we have to
dress for dinner and the dance."
"And I'm not going to miss that dance for _anything_!" declared Alice.
"That tall fellow has a new step in the fox trot that is simply
delightful. Let's hurry."
But that was easier said than done, for when Sylvia stepped into the
craft, and confidently shoved over the self-starter, there was only a
groaning protest and the motor did not respond.
"Oh, I do hope we don't have to start by hand!" sighed Alice. "It is
such a heavy engine."
"Well, it looks as though we should," said Sylvia, grimly, when, after
several trials, the motor still refused to start. Clearly, or, rather,
unclearly, something was wrong. It was not a very cheerful prospect. In
fact it was most dismal, with night coming on, the girls some distance
from their hotel, alone and with a "cranky," not to say unstartable,
motor boat.