A LONELY PLACE
From Saranac Inn, down through Upper Saranac Lake, to a point where
the turn could be made, to go through the middle body of water to
the lower, is, perhaps, seven miles. The remainder of the trip, up
past Eagle Island in Lower Saranac, and to the point where Professor
Russman's bungalow was located, was about ten miles more, so the
Nowadays Girls had a motor-boat trip of nearly seventeen miles to make.
Under ordinary circumstances, and in waters more open, the journey
would have been only a matter of a few hours at most. But from the very
start it seemed that Fate was against our friends.
Not that anything very serious occurred, but a series of small, but
annoying, delays ensued from the very beginning.
In the first place, the girls were so tired, after their trip to Lake
Clear, their preparations of the night and their previous exertions,
that they all slept late. Even Mrs. Brownley did not arise at her usual
time, and the consequence was they all assembled at the very latest
breakfast, and looked at one another rather strangely.
"This isn't a very good augury," said Sylvia. "But I was _so_ tired and
sleepy."
"So was I," said Alice.
"I'm hardly awake yet," confessed Hazel.
"Nor I," admitted Rose. "But we must hurry."
They did--to the extent of making a hasty breakfast. Then it developed
that their motor-boat man was not on hand ready for them. They had
gotten their luggage together and gone down to the dock, only to see
the _Balsam_, which was the name of the craft they had engaged, tied
disconsolately to the float, with her engine partly dismantled.
"Why, what does this mean?" demanded Sylvia, rather indignantly.
A small boy was the only person in sight from whom it seemed possible
to get any information. He seemed to be there for that purpose, for he
asked:
"Are you the party that's going to Lower Saranac?"
"Yes," Mrs. Brownley said, "but where is Mr. Wherry?" and she looked
around for the man from whom she had engaged the boat.
"He's sorry, lady," said the boy, and then he seemed overcome with
confusion. "He--he's----"
"Sorry? Sorry for what?" demanded Sylvia, brusquely.
"He's sorry he can't go."
"Can't go!" It was a protesting chorus.
"No'm. He can't go till he gits his engine fixed. Suthin's the matter
of it."
"Oh!" and Sylvia uttered a sigh of relief. "Then it isn't anything
serious."
"Huh! You'd think so if you heard Hank Wherry talk about it. But then
he makes a awful fuss over lots of things. He told me to stay here
until you folks come and tell you he'd be back as soon as he could.
He's gone off to get a bolt, or suthin' t' fix the engine."
"Oh, then he'll be back soon?" asked Hazel.
"I don't know how soon. Hank Wherry ain't much on hurryin'."
"Oh, why didn't I make inquiries about him and his boat before I
engaged it!" exclaimed Mrs. Brownley. "Now there isn't another craft we
can get, I suppose."
There was not, it developed, all the others available having gone to
fill other engagements.
"Never mind," said Sylvia. "We have plenty of time. It isn't such a
long trip, and even if we don't get there until late afternoon it
will be all right. We shall have to remain all night, anyhow; perhaps
longer."
The boy seemed to want to say something more, but hardly knew how to
proceed.
"Well, what is it?" asked Rose, taking pity on his embarrassment.
"He--he said--Hank said, maybe if I stayed here and told you what I did
tell you that you--that maybe--that you'd give me a nickel," the boy
stammered.
"Of course!" Sylvia exclaimed, opening her purse. "Here is a quarter
for you."
The boy's face shone with delight at this unexpected windfall of wealth.
"Do you know where Mr. Wherry went?" asked Mrs. Brownley.
"No'm, I don't. But maybe I could find him for you," he volunteered,
as he partly opened a brown hand and gazed at the shining coin clasped
tightly in it.
"I wish you would," Sylvia said. "Tell him we are in a hurry to make a
start. We are late, but he is later."
"The late Mr. Hank Wherry," murmured Hazel.
The boy started off, and the girls found a shady place on the little
pier to wait for their boatman. The _Balsam's_ engine had been partly
dismantled.
"He'll never be able to start to-day," said Alice.
"Oh, there isn't so much to do," Sylvia said, gazing with an
experienced eye at the machinery. "He's taken out the carburetor. I'd
rather have him repair it now than after we get started."
The other girls agreed with her.
They were just getting nervously impatient for the return of their
boatman, when they descried him hurrying back.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting," he apologised. "But I was giving the
motor a trial run, getting ready for you, when the carburetor began
making trouble, and I knew I'd have to have it fixed. But we can run
all the better now, and we'll make up for lost time."
"I hope so," said Mrs. Brownley. "How long will you be now?"
"Not more than half an hour."
But again Fate stepped in and disappointed the girls. For Mr. Wherry
was over an hour making the adjustments. So it was nearly noon when the
start was made from the dock near the Inn.
"Well, she is making good time," observed Sylvia, as they finally
chugged off in the _Balsam_.
"Oh, yes, miss. We'll be there in good season now. I'm sorry to have
delayed you, but I'll get you there in plenty of time."
It was the best that could be done under the circumstances, and there
seemed no help for it. Certainly the motor boat was at last running
well. The Nowadays Girls knew enough about machinery to decide that.
"The carburetor has been giving me trouble right along," said the
pilot, "and so I put on a new one."
They were passing through Upper Saranac, and the scene on every hand
was one of beauty. The day was a perfect one of warm sunshine, and the
waters of the lake sparkled invitingly. In the distance were the cool
woods, the unbroken forest stretching away on every side.
Here and there were other craft containing gay parties of summer
visitors. Now and then snatches of song floated across the water.
Sylvia and her chums were all in better spirits now that they were
actually on their way to see Roy. But in spite of the sunshine, and the
feeling of exhilaration that came from swiftly passing over the water,
Sylvia could not shake off a sense of foreboding.
[Illustration: SYLVIA AND HER CHUMS WERE ALL IN BETTER SPIRITS NOW THAT
THEY WERE ACTUALLY ON THEIR WAY TO SEE ROY.]
"It's foolish, I know," she said to herself. "But I feel just as though
something were going to happen. Pshaw! I mustn't worry! I must be
bright and cheerful for Roy's sake. He'll need cheering up, I think."
They ate their lunch on the boat, for they had brought a substantial
one with them. Sylvia offered to steer while Mr. Wherry ate some of the
sandwiches they offered him from their store.
"No, I'd better keep the wheel," he said. "I can steer with one hand
and eat with the other. We'll be in uncertain waters soon."
This did not tend to reassure the girls, who had been made a little
nervous by the delay of the morning.
"Are we likely to--to have trouble?" asked Alice.
"Oh, well, nothing so much, miss," was the answer. "We may run aground
here and there, that's all. But I'll do my best."
"Well, don't run aground so hard that you can't run off again," begged
Sylvia.
The afternoon was half gone when they started on the passage through
Saranac River, connecting the middle lake with the lower body of water.
The stream, while perfectly adapted for canoes, was, at this season,
because of an unusually dry month, not so good for motor boats.
There were certain low places and sandbars.
"But I guess we'll get over it all right," said Mr. Wherry. "I'll run
slow, and----"
The words were fairly jarred out of his mouth, for the boat ran into
something and slowed up so suddenly that the engine was almost jarred
from the bed-beams. With a quick motion Sylvia leaned over and pulled
out the electrical switch, thus stopping the motor.
"Stuck!" exclaimed Mr. Wherry. "I didn't think we were near that bar.
And we're not!" he added, with something of triumph in his tone.
"There's the one I was looking out for up ahead there. This is a new
one that we're fast on."
That was, however, little consolation for the girls.
"Can't we get off?" asked Hazel, anxiously.
The others waited rather apprehensively for an answer.
"Oh, I reckon I can pole us off," was the reply.
Mr. Wherry began to remove his shoes and stockings.
"Is he--is he going to swim?" asked Rose.
"No, I'm only going to wade," he answered for himself. "I reckon if I
get out and push I can shove her off. Now if you'll all come in the
stern you'll raise her nose out of the mud."
He climbed over the side into the water. The girls and Mrs. Brownley
moved toward the stern, thereby elevating the bow, and after some
rather strenuous work Mr. Wherry succeeded in freeing the craft from
the bar.
Then they went on again, but the running aground had delayed them, so
that the afternoon was fast waning as they emerged into Lower Saranac
Lake proper.
"But now we're all right," the boatman said. "It's good water from now
on to the upper end. We'll have no more trouble."
Nor did they, at least just then. The _Balsam_ chugged on her way
serenely, and the girls had hopes of arriving at their destination
while there was yet some daylight left.
But Fate had not yet finished with them. Mr. Wherry, it appeared, was
not so well acquainted with the location of the Russman bungalow as he
had thought. He went to the wrong landing and, after stopping to make
inquiries, started off again.
It was now dusk.
"I wish we were there," said Rose, with a nervous, shivery glance over
her shoulder. "It's lonesome up here."
It was indeed, for the dense forest came down to the very edge of the
lake, and there were no camps or cottages to be seen.
"We'll be there in five minutes now," said Mr. Wherry. "It is lonesome,
but then some folks like that up here in the Adirondacks."
The _Balsam_ chugged on, while the darkness seemed to shut down like a
pall over everything.