CHAPTER I

E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Emmy, and the Project Gutenberg Online

Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)

Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this

file which includes the original illustrations.

See 32437-h.htm or 32437-h.zip:

(https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/32437/pg32437-images.html)

or

(https://www.gutenberg.org/files/32437/32437-h.zip)

Transcriber's note:

Text in bold face is enclosed by equal signs (=bold=).

Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).

THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT CHICAGO

Or

Winning Out Against Heavy Odds

by

LAURA DENT CRANE

Author of The Automobile Girls at Newport, The Automobile Girls

in the Berkshires, The Automobile Girls

Along the Hudson, etc.

Illustrated

[Illustration: "He's Here!" Cried Barbara.

_Frontispiece._]

Philadelphia

Henry Altemus Company

Copyright, 1912, by

Howard E. Altemus

Printed in the

United States of America

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. THE MAN IN SECTION THIRTEEN 7

II. THE MISSING PASSENGER 19

III. A DIZZY ROUND OF PLEASURE 32

IV. BATTLE OF THE BULLS AND BEARS 45

V. AN EMBARRASSING MOMENT 56

VI. THE WRECK OF MR. A. BUBBLE 68

VII. THE MYSTERY OF THE IRON GATES 75

VIII. EXPLORING THE SECRET PASSAGE 84

IX. IN AN INDIAN GRAVEYARD 96

X. MEETING A TREASURE HUNTER 106

XI. GIVING AN ATTIC PARTY 116

XII. A CURIOUS OLD JOURNAL 127

XIII. THE MYSTERY OF THE ATTIC 136

XIV. TOMMY TAKES A WILD RIDE 143

XV. AN AMAZING OCCURRENCE 154

XVI. BOB SOLVES ANOTHER MYSTERY 164

XVII. A LONG-REMEMBERED CHRISTMAS 178

XVIII. BAB'S EXCITING DISCOVERY 187

XIX. A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT 195

XX. CONCLUSION 204

The Automobile Girls at Chicago

CHAPTER I

THE MAN IN SECTION THIRTEEN

BARBARA THURSTON awakened with a violent start.

"Wha--a-at is it?" she muttered, then opened her eyes wide. In the

darkness of the Pullman berth she could see nothing at all save a faint

perpendicular line of light at the edges of the curtains that enclosed

the section.

"I--I wonder what made me wake up so suddenly?" Barbara put out a

groping hand. The hand came in contact with Mollie Thurston's face.

Mollie brushed it away, muttering irritably in her sleep. Then all at

once Barbara discovered what had awakened her. Close at hand she heard

the voices of two men. They were conversing in low, cautious tones.

"I tell you I'll crush him! I'll crush them both. I'll make beggars of

them!" declared one of the men in a slightly heightened tone.

The train had stopped, as Barbara realized at that moment. Otherwise she

might not have been able to hear the words so plainly. The girl

shuddered at the tone of the speaker's voice more than at the words

themselves. She drew the curtains aside a little and peered out. It was

then that she discovered by the light reflected from the adjoining

section that the berths next to her had not been made up. Two men were

sitting in the double seat within a few inches of where her head had

lain. She was unable to see the men, nor did Barbara recognize either of

the voices. Their conversation could be of no possible interest to her,

she told herself. Still for some reason that she did not stop to

analyze, the girl lay back with half-closed eyes, listening. She

listened not because she wanted to hear, but for the reason that she

could not well help overhearing the conversation in the adjoining

section.

At Barbara's side Mollie Thurston lay sleeping peacefully. As for

Barbara, she was now wholly awake, all thought of sleep having left her.

"You mean you will crush them financially?" suggested the second

speaker.

"Body and soul!"

"Do you mean to say that you would crush a human being--perhaps drive

him to do desperate things--merely to gratify your love of money and

power? Is that what you mean, Nat?"

"That is partly my meaning. Yes, I want power. Already they call me the

'Young Napoleon of Finance,' but that is not enough. Those men must be

driven to the wall, for in crushing them I shall be increasing my own

power as well as taking theirs from them. I'd crush them just the same

if I knew it to be my last conscious act on earth."

Barbara Thurston gazed into the darkness wide-eyed. She knew she was

listening to the resolve of a desperate man, though she had not the

slightest idea what might be his plans for accomplishing his purpose.

"Why do you hate them so?" questioned the second voice. "What have they

ever done to you?"

The first speaker paused a few seconds before replying, then in a voice

tense with suppressed emotion he answered slowly:

"Hate them? That isn't exactly the word, but it will answer. I hate ----

---- because he turned me out when I was making my start. Turned me out

into the street, Jim. Do you understand? Turned me out without a dollar

in my pocket when I was trying to make something of myself. I hate the

other man because he is working with him. They are pulling together and

they must go down together. Let them down me if they can. I'll make

beggars of both of them!"

"Oh!" exclaimed Barbara Thurston in a tone that plainly must have

reached the two men.

The terrible threat had struck her almost with the effect of a blow. A

name had been mentioned that stirred her to instant alertness, a name

almost as familiar to the girl as her own.

"What was that?" demanded the voice that had uttered the terrible

threats.

"Someone dreaming."

"Let them dream. As for me, I never sleep these days. I leave that to

others. Jim, you watch me. I'll be a king of finance yet. I'll be the

Napoleon in reality before I have done. And what is more, those men will

never know where their opposition comes from until after the blow has

fallen. I'll see to it that they know then, however. Watch me, but keep

silent. Not a word, not a breath of what I have told you. I've said too

much, but I had to talk to some one I could trust. Now I'm all right

again."

"Never fear, Nat."

"And I'll give you a tip, boy. Buy wheat."

Bab could not catch all of the sentence. She caught the word "wheat,"

but a word ahead of that she missed.

"Thank you, I never gamble," replied the second man. "I'm sure to lose

if I do, so I have always steered clear of speculation. But I'm sorry

for the Old Man if you are after him. I'm sorry for anyone that you

visit your displeasure upon. I should hate to have you get after my

scalp."

"What's--who's talking in this berth?" demanded Mollie, sitting up

suddenly.

"Sh-h-h!" warned Barbara, laying a restraining hand on her sister's

lips. "It isn't in this berth. It's in the next one. Go to sleep."

"Is--is Grace asleep?"

"Yes. Be quiet."

Grace Carter, the girls' companion, occupied the berth above them. As no

sound had been heard from that quarter it was reasonable to suppose that

Grace had not been awakened by the conversation of the two men.

Barbara was trembling violently. She was profoundly affected by what she

had overheard. Yet while she had heard a name mentioned and a threat

made against the owner of that name, she was in the dark as to the

meaning of the threat--she did not understand what it was that this man

proposed to do. Her ears were now strained to catch every word uttered

on the other side of the partition.

"I shall watch the market with interest, Nat," the second speaker was

saying. "I don't say that I approve of your way of getting revenge, but

that is your own affair. Remember, however, that people who play with

fire are sooner or later sure to be singed."

The other man laughed.

"My feathers were singed a long time ago, Jim," he said.

"Well, here's where I get off. Good luck, old man, and good night."

The train had moved forward slowly, halting at a station a short

distance from the last stop. The man who had made the threats

accompanied his friend to the door of the car, then instead of returning

to the seat he had occupied with his friend, he seated himself opposite

the section occupied by the girls.

Bab, determined to know who the man was, peered cautiously between the

curtains.

"It's the man in section thirteen!" she exclaimed. Then she realized

that she had expressed her thought aloud.

The man wheeled sharply, his face hardening, his eyes narrowed to mere

slits as he gazed questioningly about him. He saw no one, for Barbara

had quickly withdrawn her head, holding the curtains firmly so that he

should observe no movement of them. The girl had learned that which she

was so curious to know. She now knew the man who had uttered the

threats. He had occupied the section opposite to her all during the

previous afternoon, though she did not recall having heard him speak nor

did she know his name. The man across the aisle reached for his bag,

from which he selected a package of papers. These he regarded

thoughtfully for a full minute, after which he opened the package,

taking several documents, returning the rest to the bag. Then after

drawing his cigar case from the bag, he rose and strode rapidly toward

the rear of the car, where the smoking compartment was located.

"So that's the man. I'm glad I know what I do, even though I do not know

what it is all about. I must ask Mr. Stuart about that man," mused

Barbara. Consulting her watch, she found that it was nearly one o'clock

in the morning. The girl shivered, snuggled into her blankets and fell

asleep. It was December and the air was chill. Barbara had not been

asleep long when she was awakened by a violent jolt, then a bumping that

shook her until her teeth chattered. The sleeping car swayed giddily

from side to side as it moved slowly forward with a grinding, crunching

sound. Then the car gave a lurch that hurled Bab violently against her

sister.

Mollie uttered a little cry of alarm. Bab threw her arms about her,

hugging Mollie in a tight embrace to save her sister from being thrown

against the side of the car. As yet Bab had not had time to think of

what was occurring outside. But now she began vaguely to realize that

the Pullman car had left the rails. An accident had occurred. Shouts and

cries of alarm from various parts of the car testified to the terror of

other passengers who were being buffeted about by the rocking sleeper.

All at once the forward end of the car appeared to plunge down head

first, as it were. The two girls were tumbled into one end of their

berth where for a few agonizing seconds both were nearly standing on

their heads.

Mollie screamed again.

"Don't!" commanded Barbara sharply in a half-smothered voice, holding

her sister even more tightly than before.

"We're going over!" cried Mollie.

Barbara had managed to straighten out and was now bracing herself with

all her might. She had thus far made no effort to get out into the

aisle. She was a girl quick to think and act in an emergency. She had

reasoned that they would be safer in their berth than out of it, for

they could not be buffeted about so much in the narrow berth as they

might be in the aisle where they could hear the thud of bags and other

articles falling from the various berths or being hurled from one side

to the other of the car.

The lights suddenly went out. Fortunately the train had not been moving

very fast when the accident occurred. Now it gave a sudden, sickening

lurch and lay over on its side to the accompaniment of crashing glass as

the windows were burst in and renewed cries of fear came from the

passengers.

The broad windows of the Thurston girls' berth burst in, sending a

shower of glass over them. Both received bruises as well as slight cuts

from the broken glass that had showered over them, though Barbara had

borne the brunt of the shock, managing to keep her own body between

Mollie and danger.

"Are we killed? Are we killed?" moaned Mollie.

"No. We are all right," soothed Bab with a confidence that she did not

feel. "Quick! Get on your clothes if you can find them. Here, put this

on. Don't try to dress completely, but just throw about you whatever you

can find."

While urging her sister to action, Bab was hunting feverishly for their

belongings. She thrust the first clothing she could find into the hands

of the trembling Mollie, then wrapped the younger girl in a blanket.

"I want my shoes," cried Mollie.

Barbara thrust two shoes into the girl's hands. One was Mollie's shoe,

the other Barbara's, but she could not be particular under the

circumstances.

Now a new danger threatened. Bab was certain that she could smell smoke.

She fairly dragged Mollie from the berth into the aisle that was now

tilted at an angle.

"Hurry! Get to the upper end of the car as fast as you can. The other

passengers are out I do believe."

"Oh, I can't! Help me, Bab."

"Help yourself. I must look after Grace."

"Grace!" groaned Mollie, a sudden and new fit of trembling seizing upon

her until her legs threatened to collapse under her.

Barbara gave her a violent push.

"Climb up the aisle. Support yourself by the seats. You will be able to

get through all right. I'll follow you just as soon as I can find Grace.

She may have gotten out, but I don't believe she has."

"Is--is--do you think she is dead?" gasped Mollie.

"Hurry!" urged Barbara, as the smell of smoke smote her nostrils more

strongly than before. "Grace!" she called, as soon as she saw that

Mollie had begun climbing.

There was no answer. Barbara was hurrying into such of her clothing as

she was able to find. The intense darkness of the car made any

systematic effort to dress impossible.

"Grace! Oh, Grace!"

Still no answer. Bab observed by the light that now filtered through the

broken windows of section number thirteen on the opposite side of the

aisle, that that section was empty. The car itself appeared to be empty.

At least the cries had died out, though outside the car there was a

great uproar. Barbara climbed into the upper berth occupied by Grace

Carter, who lay silent, unheeding Barbara's voice.

"Oh, Grace! Grace!" begged Barbara, throwing her arms about her friend.

"Answer me."

There was no response. A bar of moonlight shone through the broken

window of section number thirteen, falling directly on the pallid face

of the unconscious girl. Barbara shook her, calling upon her friend to

answer, but Grace neither spoke nor stirred.

"Is there any one left in here?" called a voice from the other end of

the car.

"Yes, yes; come here quickly and help me," cried Barbara.

Instead of coming to her assistance, the owner of the voice appeared to

turn back and go out again. Barbara was now chafing the hands and face

of the motionless girl in the upper berth.

"Oh, she's dead, she's dead. What shall I do?" gasped Bab.

With a suddenly formed resolution, she clasped her arms about Grace and

with considerable difficulty--for Grace was now a dead weight--dragged

the unconscious girl from her berth into the aisle. Bab did not pause

for an instant. Handling her friend as tenderly as possible, she began

working her way up the steep aisle, making but slow progress, one arm

about Grace Carter, the other pulling herself and her heavy burden along

by grasping the backs of the seats and the partitions between such of

the berths as were made up.

The Automobile Girls at Chicago; Or, Winning Out Against Heavy Odds · 第 1 / 20 章