RISKY BUSINESS
“And now to cross the river!” said Amy.
“Out of the frying pan into the fire,” laughed Nell. “We just succeed in
getting out of the river, and we immediately make plans for getting into
it again.”
“Does seem rather foolish, doesn’t it?” agreed Jessie. “However, we can
only hope that the river bottom isn’t mud all the way.”
“It is not,” Miss Alling assured her, as the boys unfastened the rope
that bound the two cars together. “As the stream becomes more shallow
the river bed becomes more pebbly. I really think we won’t have any
trouble getting across.”
The knots in the rope that had bound the two cars together had been
drawn taut by the strain upon them and the unfastening of the knots
required time and patience. Miss Alling insisted that the rope should
not be cut.
“We never can tell when we may need the rope again,” she reminded them.
“Better spend a little extra time just now than lose a good deal later
on.”
At last the final knot was untied, the rope stowed away in the tonneau
awaiting the next emergency, and they were ready for the start. In the
meantime Darry had gone back and posted a warning on the road leading to
the broken bridge.
“Where do we go from here, boys—or rather, Aunt Em?” queried Burd, as
the boys climbed back into the roadster. “We let you take the lead
before, and I suppose we shall have to again. Though I don’t know
whether we should,” he added judicially, “after the place you led us
to.”
“Better here than into the river,” retorted Miss Alling, and stepped on
the starter.
It was necessary for them to proceed at a snail’s pace, for, though
there were traces of an old wagon road following the banks of the stream
at this point, the woodland was dense with vines and undergrowth, and
the road was fairly overgrown with rank grass and bushes.
It seemed an endless time to the impatient girls before Miss Alling
stopped the car and, pointing out toward the stream, declared that she
was confident they would be able to cross it at that point.
They got out to have a closer look at the water, and Darry, having
stopped his car a few feet behind them, joined them with Fol and Burd.
“All set for the big act?” asked Darry, and Miss Alling nodded
thoughtfully. They had reached the water, and at the point where the
stream encroached upon the shore it was only a few inches deep. Also,
the bottom was, as Miss Alling had prophesied, hard and dotted with
small boulders and rocks.
“Pretty rough going, but a good sight better than mud, at that,” was
Fol’s verdict. “I vote we get started.”
“But how do you know the stream is fordable at this point?” asked Darry.
Miss Alling had started back toward the cars, evidently intent upon
following Fol’s suggestion without delay, but at Darry’s question she
turned and looked at him squarely.
“My dear boy, I _don’t_ know,” she told him. “The world is full of
gambles. This is one of them.”
“I don’t want to gamble,” wailed Amy, as they followed Aunt Emma. “I
only want to live. Jessie, I give you my word I feel ten perfectly good
years of my life slipping away.”
“I have heard that people actually do die of fright sometimes,” said
Jessie, cheerfully, and Amy shot her a reproachful glance.
“Mean old thing,” she said. “I don’t believe you are frightened in the
least, Jessie Norwood.”
“Why should I be?” returned Jessie, with a laugh. “It isn’t as though we
hadn’t been close to drowning before. Barry’s yacht, the _Marigold_, for
instance.”
“Well, just because we nearly drowned once isn’t to say that I ought to
enjoy it the second time,” grumbled Amy. The next moment she gripped
Jessie’s arm. Miss Alling had turned the car and had headed it straight
toward the river.
“Here goes,” sang out Nell. “Hold your hats, everybody!”
The water swished about the wheels as the car pushed forward, and Amy’s
grip upon her chum tightened.
“In just about a minute we are due to stumble into a hole,” she said,
and Jessie giggled.
“Cars don’t stumble,” she said. “They plunge. If you are not careful I
will tell Miss Seymour on you.”
“O-oh, there we go!” gasped Amy, shutting her eyes as the water swished
up higher about the wheels. “Let me know when it reaches my chin. I
shan’t die without a struggle.”
“Silly, open your eyes,” laughed Jessie. “If you think you can drown in
two feet of water, go ahead.”
Luckily for them, the opposite shore was not steep, and the big car took
the ascent with ease. Miss Alling stopped the car long enough to make
sure that the boys were following them safely, then turned about and
headed back through the woods toward the roadway.
They were again on an old road running through the woods, but it was one
seldom used and was filled with stumps and creeping vines, and they were
once more forced to proceed at a crawl. But with the river successfully
crossed, the girls did not chafe so much at the slow pace and were
pleasantly surprised when at last the highway appeared through the
trees.
Once upon this highway, they waited for the roadster to catch up to
them. Somebody suggested that they have lunch before they went any
further. The broken bridge had delayed them more than they realized, and
Darry found upon consulting his watch that it was long past lunch time.
Miss Alling, however, insisted that they continue on for a few miles in
an attempt to make up the time they had lost.
“We have a long way to go yet,” she reminded them. “And the last part of
the trip is by far the harder. We turn off from the main highway several
miles away from Forest Lodge, and the lake road is steep and rocky. I
have no notion,” she ended decidedly, “of taking that road after dark.”
The young folks reluctantly consented to go on although the basket lunch
which Alma, the Norwood’s cook, had packed with dainties, was the cause
of much yearning speculation on the part of the girls and boys. The
lunch was one Alma had insisted on their taking along, saying there was
no telling what a motor car might do or when it would get them to their
journey’s end.
The next hour passed uneventfully, and Miss Alling, as though to make up
for every second of wasted time, burned up mile upon mile of smooth road
beneath the wheels of her powerful car.
They came at last to a road marked: Detour—Road Closed for Repairs.
Miss Alling stopped the car so swiftly that the girls were thrown
forward in their seats. As Amy afterward remarked, nothing save the
luggage kept her and Jessie from being tossed over the heads of the two
in front.
Their chaperone regarded the annoying sign with furrowed brow.
“I know this detour,” she said, with a sigh. “It means a half dozen
miles out of our way on a most disagreeable stretch of road. Now we
surely will be late reaching Forest Lodge!”
“Well, if we are going to be late, anyway, we might as well eat,”
suggested Jessie, and Darry, who, with Fol and Burd, had strolled up to
inspect the sign, seconded the suggestion with extreme heartiness. The
others joined in and made such a clamor that for the sake of peace their
chaperone was forced to give in.
Besides, as she admitted later between bites of a chicken sandwich, she
had been actually famished herself.
After the hamper had been emptied and they were on their way once more,
the boys and girls found out that Aunt Emma had not exaggerated when she
classed the detour as a most disagreeable stretch of road. It was all of
that, as Burd remarked, and “then some.”
They came at last to a village, a straggling, shabby little place with
one main street, a shabby motion picture theater, and a few
uninviting-looking stores.
“This is Gibbonsville, and it marks the end of the detour,” said Miss
Alling. “Just beyond here we come upon the lake road again.”
“That is lucky,” said Amy. “One more mile of that road, and I shouldn’t
have had a tight tooth in my head.” Her voice died off vaguely. She had
started forward in her seat, her gaze suddenly fixed and staring.
“What is it?” cried Jessie.
“There is that girl! The one who gave me the counterfeit bill!”