THE START THAT CAME TO GRIEF
"Who do you think it is, Harriet?"
Harriet Burrell whispered something in the ear of the guardian. Again
Miss Elting shook her head, this time with decision.
"Wrong, this time. There isn't the slightest resemblance that I could
observe. I thought of that, too. But let's not bother our heads about
it any further. We have things of greater importance to consider this
evening, and, besides, we must go to bed soon; we are to make an early
start in the morning, you know."
Harriet shook her brown head slowly. She was positive that she was
right in her identification of the visitor, Collins. She determined to
ask some questions at the first opportunity. This she did on the
following morning, inquiring of the hotel clerk about the man who had
so strangely called on Miss Elting. The clerk said he had never heard
of the man. In the preparations that followed Harriet forgot about the
caller. Grubb had a carry-all at the hotel before they had finished
their breakfast. The equipment for the party occupied little room.
Janus had consulted with Miss Elting about the food supplies, and these
were packed in the smallest possible space, with the exception of a few
packages for their use before they got into the mountains.
The drive to the point where they would leave the wagon would occupy
the greater part of the day. The girls looked forward to that day's
journey with keen anticipation. They started out decorously and
quietly, for the inhabitants of the village were early risers and the
girls did not wish to attract unpleasant attention to themselves. Once
they were well out of the village, however, the Meadow-Brook Girls'
spirits bubbled forth in song, shout and merry laughter. The air was
crisp and cool until the sun came up, then it grew warm.
Janus, sitting up by the driver, was almost sternly silent. Miss
Elting, in the light of the previous evening's interview, regarded him
from time to time with inquiring eyes. She could not believe what her
caller had told her of their guide. Janus was plainly an honest,
well-intentioned man. Of this she had been reassured that morning in
an interview with the proprietor of the Compton House.
At noon, their appetites sharpened by the bracing air and the fact that
they had eaten an early breakfast, the party made a halt. The horses
were unhitched and allowed to graze beside the road. The guide built a
fire, Harriet and Jane in the meantime getting out something for their
luncheon, which was to be a cooked one instead of a "cold bite."
Hazel, Jane and Margery spread a blanket on the ground, while Tommy sat
on a rail fence, offering expert advice but declining to assist in the
preparations.
It was a merry meal. Even Janus was forced to smile now and then, the
driver making no effort to conceal his amusement over the bright
sallies of the Meadow-Brook Girls.
"Come! We must be going, unless you want to camp beside the road
to-night," urged the guide. The girls had finished their luncheon and
were strolling about the field.
"Why, we haven't thettled our dinner yet," complained Tommy.
"You'll have it well settled in less than an hour. The road from here
on is rough," returned Janus. "You'll be wanting another meal before
the sun is three hours from the hills."
"We want to pick some wild flowers," called Margery.
"Girls, don't delay us! The driver wishes to get back home to-night
and we must reach the camping place in which Mr. Grubb has planned for
us to spend the night," warned the guardian.
"Yes, we've got to hike right along," agreed Janus. "Hook up those
nags and be on the way, Jim," he added, speaking to the driver.
It was only a short time until they were on the way again. The country
was becoming more sparsely settled, the hills more rugged and the
forests more numerous. Here and there slabs of granite might be seen
cropping up through the soil; in the distance, now and then, they were
able to catch glimpses of the bare ridges of the mountains toward which
they were journeying.
"Those mountains," explained the guide, "are called 'The Roof of New
England.' There's not much of any timber on top, but on the sides you
will find some spruce, yellow pine and hemlock. It's all granite a
little way under the subsoil; and over the subsoil grows moss. Among
these mosses and the roots of the trees almost every important stream
in New England takes its rise, and some of them grow to be quite decent
rivers. You ladies live in this state, don't you?"
Miss Elting nodded.
"I am afraid we never realized what a beautiful state New Hampshire is
until we began looking about a little," answered Harriet Burrell.
"There are too many thtoneth," objected Tommy. "I thhall be afraid of
thtubbing my toeth all the time."
"Lift your feet and you won't," suggested Margaret, with a smile.
"Buthter, I didn't athk for your advithe," retorted Tommy.
"There are the foothills," interrupted the guide, "and there is
Chocorua. Isn't she a beauty?"
This was the girls' first real glimpse of the White Mountains.
Chocorua loomed high in the air, reminding them of pictures they had
seen of ancient temples, except that this was higher than any temple
they had ever seen pictured. Its gray domes, flanked by the other tops
of the neighboring range, stood out clearly defined.
"Three thousand five hundred feet above sea level," the guide informed
them, waving a hand toward Chocorua. "Doesn't look that high, does it?"
"Have we got to climb up there?" questioned Margery.
"We are going to. We do not have to if we don't want to," replied
Hazel.
"Oh, dear, I'm too tired to go on," whined Margery.
"I knew Buthter could never climb a mountain," observed Tommy, with a
hopeless shake of her little tow-head. "But never mind, Buthter, you
can thtay here and wait until we come back. It will only be a few
weekth and you won't be tho very lonely. Of courthe, you will mith me
a great deal."
"Don't worry yourself over me," snapped, Buster. "I can climb as well
as you. But if I did stay behind, you can make up your mind I wouldn't
miss you."
"Stop squabbling, girls," laughed Harriet. "Neither one of you could
get along without the other."
The granite domes soon faded in the waning light. The driver urged on
his horses. The carry-all bumped over the uneven road, swaying giddily
from side to side, the girls clinging tightly to the sides of the
wagon, fearing that they might be thrown out. Darkness shut out pretty
much everything at an early hour. Janus decided that they had better
wait for supper till they reached the "Shelter," a cabin part way up
the side of the mountain, where tourists halted for a rest or to stay
over night when intending to climb the mountain. It was not expected
that there would be any save themselves there on this occasion.
The road grew so uneven that the driver became a little uneasy. He
finally declared that he did not dare to try following the trail up to
the Shelter that night; that either he would put them down at the foot
of the mountain or make camp there until the following morning, when he
would continue the journey up the mountain to the shelter.
Janus consulted with Miss Elting. He said they could walk to the
Shelter in a couple of hours, provided the girls were hard enough to
stand the climb. The guardian assured him that they were equal to
anything in the walking line. It was, therefore, settled that the
driver should take them to the foot of the mountain, whence they would
make their way on foot to the stopping place for the night, thus
beginning their tramp at the base of the mountain.
"How much farther have we to go?" questioned Harriet.
"A mile farther on we pass over a long, covered bridge. The road takes
a sharp bend beyond that. The foot of the mountain lies less than a
mile from the end of the bridge. We shall soon be there," answered
Janus. The girls burst forth into song. Janus had to shout to make
himself heard when he spoke to the driver. The horses were traveling
at a lively pace. They did not enjoy the disturbance behind them, and
their driver, having wrapped the reins about his arms to give him
greater purchase, was pulling sturdily, his feet braced against the
dashboard of the carry-all.
"Here's the bridge," cried the guide.
A lantern had been lighted and hung from the rear axle of the
carry-all. But this did little more than cast weird, flickering
shadows ahead. It certainly did not light up the road ahead of there.
In the dense darkness the bridge was not visible to the eyes of the
Meadow-Brook Girls.
"The bridge ith coming. Low bridge!" piped Tommy.
"Be quiet; I fear we are making the driver's work difficult," warned
Miss Elting.
"Oh, but isn't this the fine ride?" cried Crazy Jane. "It's almost
like being in my own darlin' automobile with the landscape slipping
past on a greased track. Now, what if one of the horses should fall
down? Wouldn't we be tumbled into a goose pile!" chuckled Jane.
"Oh, thave me!" cried Tommy.
"Don't suggest anything so awful," begged Margery.
"Oh! What's that!" exclaimed Harriet.
The others did not know to what she referred, but they felt a sudden
jolt as the vehicle lurched to the side of the road, then back again.
"What is it?" demanded Hazel.
"The horses have taken fright," answered the guardian calmly. "Be
careful that you do not excite them further."
"Are--are the hortheth running away?" stammered Tommy.
"Not yet," reassured Harriet.
"Don't be frightened," called back the guide encouragingly. "Jim can
hold any hosses that ever chewed a bit. We'll be on the bridge in a
minute; then they can thrash all they want to. Look out!"
There followed a crash, a breaking, splintering sound as the right rear
wheel of the carry-all swerved into the side of the covered bridge a
few inches from the outer end. The wheel put a hole through the siding
of the bridge. It was fortunate for the carry-all that the wheel had
not swerved a second earlier. Had it done so, the carry-all must have
been wrecked on the stout post at the outer end of the long bridge.
What had so startled the horses none of the occupants of the carry-all
knew. The driver knew that they had had a narrow escape from being
hurled down an embankment. It was a bad place for horses to take
fright. He had managed, however, to pick the team up by the reins and
set them down in the middle of the road, where they remained but a few
seconds before they were swerving to one side again, then they began
leaping and galloping through the long, covered bridge.
Once more a rear wheel raked the boards. The girls cried out, fearing
that they would be hurled through the siding and down into the river.
They were clinging to the sides of the vehicle, gripping them firmly
with their hands.
"Don't lose your presence of mind, girls," cried Miss Elting. "I think
the driver has the animals under control now." She was obliged to
shout in order to make herself heard.
The roar of the carry-all on the floor of the bridge was terrifying.
As the vehicle rolled over the loose planks of the bridge floor the
sound was almost as if a Gatling gun were being fired, accompanied by a
crash, now and then, as the wagon was hurled against the side of the
bridge.
"Oh, what a mess!" shouted Jane McCarthy. "Are we near the other end,
or has the miserable old bridge turned around since we started? The
horses are now going faster than ever, and we'll be going at the same
rapid gait a few moments from now, or maybe seconds----"
Crash!
The carry-all once more struck the side. Then something else occurred.
There was a sudden stoppage of the horses, accompanied by the sound of
breaking woodwork. It was as if the bridge were collapsing. The
Meadow-Brook Girls were piled in a heap at the forward end of the
vehicle, then hurled straight over the dashboard and on over the
horses, amid shouts and screams. There seemed to be no end to the
crashing and screaming for some moments; then a sudden silence settled
over the darkened structure, broken only by the frightened neigh of a
horse.