THE REGATTA
The two young men came on, apparently with the object of speaking to
the girls. Evidently they had purposely sought them out.
“Oh, it is Miss Nelson, and her friends from the _Gem_!” exclaimed Mr.
Stone, which might indicate that he had expected to meet some other
party of picnic lovers.
“I hope we are not intruding,” said Mr. Kennedy, “but we want to borrow
some salt, if you have any.”
Betty looked at them curiously. Was this a subterfuge—a means to an
acquaintance? Her manner stiffened a trifle, and she glanced at Aunt
Kate.
“You see we came off on a little picnic like yourselves,” explained Mr.
Stone, “and Bob, here, forgot the salt.”
“You told me you’d put it in yourself, Harry!” exclaimed the other,
“and of course I thought you did.”
“Well, be that as it may,” said his friend, “we have no salt. We heard
your voices over here and decided to be bold enough to ask for some. Do
you remember us, Miss Nelson?”
“Oh, yes.” Betty’s manner softened. The explanation was sufficient.
Clearly the young men had not resorted to this trick to scrape an
acquaintance with the girls.
“Is there anything else you’d like?” asked impulsive Mollie. “Grace has
plenty of candy, I think, and as for olives——” she tilted one empty
bottle, and smiled. Mr. Kennedy smiled back in a frank manner. Betty
decided that introductions would be in good form, since they had
learned that the young men were “perfectly proper.”
Names were exchanged, and Mr. Kennedy and his friend sat down on the
grass. They did not seem in any special hurry about the salt, now that
it was offered.
“We hope you haven’t changed your minds about the race and regatta,”
spoke Mr. Stone, after some generalities had been exchanged. “By the
way, I have the entry blanks for you,” and he passed the papers to
Betty, who accepted them with murmured thanks.
“We shall very likely enter both the pageant and the race,” she said.
“When do they take place?”
“The pageant will be held two nights hence. That will really open the
carnival. The boats, decorated as suit the fancies of the owners, will
form in line, and move about the lake, past the judges’ stand. There
will be prizes for the most beautifully decorated boat, the oddest, and
also the worst, if you understand me. I mean by the last that some
captains have decided to make their boats look like wrecks, striving
after queer effects.”
“I should not like that,” said Betty, decidedly. “But if there is time,
and we can do it, we might decorate?” and she looked at her chums
questioningly.
“Surely,” said Grace, and Mollie took the chance to whisper to her:
“Why don’t you start some questions?”
“I will—if I get a chance,” was the answer.
Betty was finding out more about the carnival when the start would be
made, the course and other details. The races would take place the day
after the boat parade.
“There will be canoe and rowing races, as well as tub and ‘upset’
events,” said Mr. Stone. “We are also planning to have a swimming and
diving contest the latter part of the regatta week, but I don’t suppose
you young ladies would care to enter that.”
“We all swim, and we have our bathing suits,” said Mollie,
indefinitely.
“Mollie dives beautifully!” exclaimed Amy.
“I do not—that is, I’m not an expert at it,” Mollie hastened to say.
“But I love diving.”
“Then why not enter?” asked Mr. Kennedy. “I am chairman of that
committee. I’ll put the names of you girls down, if you don’t mind. It
doesn’t commit you to anything.”
The girls had no formal objections.
“You are real out-door girls, I can see that!” complimented Mr. Stone.
“You must like life in the woods and on the lake.”
“Indeed they do,” spoke Aunt Kate. “They walked—I think it was two
hundred miles, just before coming on this cruise; didn’t you, Betty?”
“Yes, but we took it by easy stages,” evaded the Little Captain.
“That was fine!” exclaimed Mr. Kennedy. “Well, Harry, if we’re gong to
eat we’d better take our salt and go.”
“Won’t you have some of our sandwiches?” asked Mollie, impulsive as
usual. “We have more than we can eat,” for they had brought along a
most substantial lunch. Mollie looked at Betty and Aunt Kate. They
registered no objections.
“You are very good,” protested Mr. Kennedy, “but really we don’t want
to deprive you——”
“It will be no deprivation,” said Betty. “We will be glad not to have
them wasted——”
“Oh, then by all means let us be—the wastebaskets!” exclaimed Mr.
Stone, laughing.
“Oh, I didn’t mean just that,” and Betty blushed.
“I understand,” he replied, and Aunt Kate passed over a plate of
chicken sandwiches. Under cover of opening another bottle of olives,
Mollie whispered to Grace:
“Ask him some questions—start on motoring—ask if they ever motored near
Deepdale.”
“I will,” whispered Grace, and, as the two young men ate, she led the
topic of talk to automobiles.
“Do you motor?” she asked, looking directly at Mr. Stone. She was
certain now that at least he had been in the car that caused Prince to
run away.
“Oh, yes, often,” he answered. “Do you?”
“No, but I am very fond of horseback riding,” she said. She was certain
that Mr. Stone started.
“Indeed,” said he, “that is something I never cared about. Frankly, I
am afraid of horses. I saw one run away once, with a young lady, and——”
“Do you mean that time we were speeding up to get out of the storm?”
his friend interrupted, “and we hit a stone, swerved over toward the
animal, and nearly struck it?”
“Yes, that was the time,” answered Mr. Stone. Grace could hardly
refrain from crying out that she was on that same horse.
“I have always wondered who that girl was,” Mr. Stone went on, “and
some day I mean to go back to the scene of the accident, and see if I
can find out. I have an idea she blames us for her horse running away.
But it was an accident, pure and simple; wasn’t it, Bob?”
“It certainly was. You see it was this way,” he explained, and Grace
felt sure they would ask her why she was so pale, for the blood had
left her cheeks on hearing that the young men were really those she had
suspected. “Harry, here, and myself,” went on Mr. Kennedy, “had been
out for a little run, to transact some business. We were on a country
road, and a storm was coming up. We put on speed, because we did not
want to get wet, and I had to be at a telegraph office at a certain
time to complete a deal by wire.
“Just ahead of us was a girl on a white horse. The animal seemed
frightened at the storm, and just as we came racing past our car struck
a stone, and was jolted right over toward the animal. I am not sure but
what we hit it. Anyhow the horse bolted. The girl looked able to manage
it, and as it was absolutely necessary for us to keep on, we did so.”
“I looked back, and I thought I saw the horse stumble with the girl,”
put in Mr. Stone, “but I was not sure, and then the rain came pelting
down, and the road was so bad that it took both of us to manage the
car. We were late, too. But we meant to go back and see if any accident
happened.”
“Only when we got to the telegraph office,” supplied his friend, “we
were at once called to New York in haste, and so many things have come
up since that we never got the chance. Tell me,” he said earnestly,
“you girls live in Deepdale. This happened not far from there. Did you
ever hear of a girl on a white horse being seriously hurt?”
Grace made a motion to her chums to keep silent about the whole affair,
and let her answer. She had her reasons.
“There was no report of any girl being seriously hurt at the time you
mention,” she said, a trifle coolly, “but a little child was knocked
down by a horse—a white horse. It may have been the one you scared.”
“But unintentionally—unintentionally! I hope you believe that!” said
Mr. Stone earnestly.
“Oh—yes—of course,” and Grace’s voice was not quite so cold now. She
could readily understand that the accident could have happened in just
that way, and it was beginning to look so. Certainly, not knowing the
girls, the young man could have no object in deceiving them,
“A little child knocked down, you say!” exclaimed Mr. Kennedy. “I hope
it was not badly hurt. Who was it?”
“My——” began Mollie, and she was on the point of saying it was her
sister Dodo, when from the lake there sounded the cry of:
“Fire! Fire! Fire!”
Then came a sharp explosion. Everyone arose, and Mr. Kennedy exclaimed
excitedly:
“That must be an explosion on a motor boat. Come on, Harry. We may he
needed!”
They rushed through the bushes toward the place whence the alarm came,
the girls following as fast as they could.
“Don’t let him know it was I, or that it was your sister who was hurt!”
Grace cautioned her chums. “I am going to write to papa, and he can
make an investigation. Their explanation sounds all right, but they may
have the papers after all. I’m going to write to-day.”
“I would,” advised Aunt Kate.” “It may amount to nothing, but it can do
no harm to let your father know. And I think it wise not to let these
young men know that you were in that runaway. If they really were not
careless, as it seemed at first, you can tell them later, when you see
how the investigation by Mr. Ford turns out.”
“That will be best,” spoke Betty. “Oh, see, it is a boat on fire!”
They had reached a place where they could see a small motor boat, not
far from shore, wrapped in a pall of black smoke, through which could
be observed flickering flames.
“There—he’s jumped!” cried Mollie, as a figure leaped from the burning
craft. “He’s safe, anyhow.”
“There go Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Stone in their boat!” exclaimed Grace, as
the slender racing craft shot out from shore.
Whatever may have been the faults of the young men as motorists, they
knew how to act promptly in this case. As they passed the man who had
leaped from the burning boat they tossed him a life preserver.
Then, nearing the burning boat, they halted their own, and began using
a chemical extinguisher—the only safe thing save sand with which to
fight a gasoline blaze. The fire did not have a chance to get much
headway, and it was soon out, another boat coming up and lending aid.
The man who had jumped was taken aboard this second boat, and his own,
rather charred but not seriously damaged, was towed to shore. Later the
girls learned that there had been some gasoline which leaked from his
tank. He had been repairing his motor, which had stalled, when a spark
from the electric wire set fire to the gasoline. There was a slight
explosion, followed by the fire.
“And it came just in time to stop me from telling what might have
spoiled your plans, Grace,” said Mollie, when they went back to gather
up their lunch baskets.
“Well, I haven’t any plans. I am going to let father or Will make them,
after I send the information,” she answered, “But I think it best to
let the two young men remain in ignorance, for a while.”
“Oh, I do, too!” exclaimed Betty. “They will probably not refer to it
again, being so busy over the regatta.”
There was a busy time for the girls, too. They finally decided to
convert the _Gem_, as nearly as possible under the circumstances, into
a Venetian gondola. By building a light wooden framework about it, and
tacking on muslin, this could be done without too much labor. Betty
engaged the help of a man and boy, and with the girls to aid the work
was soon well under way.
The girls saw little of Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Stone—save passing
glimpses—after the picnic. Grace telephoned to her father, who promised
to at once look into the matter.
“I do hope we win a prize!” exclaimed Mollie, on the evening of the
regatta. “The _Gem_ looks lovely!”
“Yes, I think it is rather nice,” admitted Betty.
The muslin, drawn tightly over the temporary frame, had been painted
until in the dark the boat bore a striking resemblance to a gondola,
even to the odd prow in front. It was arranged that Grace should stand
at the stern with a long oar, or what was to pass for it, while Betty
would run the motor and do the real steering. Mollie, Amy, and Aunt
Kate were to be passengers. Mollie borrowed a guitar and there was to
be music and singing as they took part in the water pageant.
“Well, it’s time to start,” announced Betty after supper. “We’ll light
the Chinese lanterns after we get to our place in line,” for the boats
were to be illuminated.
The _Gem_ started off, being in the midst of many craft, all more or
less decorated, that were to take part in the affair.