THE CONVOY.
When the picnicers returned to Miss Vaughn’s they found Ethel and
Marjorie waiting for them on the porch. Lily rushed impetuously towards
her chum, anxious to find out immediately what she had been doing in her
absence; but Marjorie checked her with a glance towards Miss Vaughn.
“Did you have a good time?” asked Marjorie, carelessly, as if she and
Ethel had been at home all afternoon.
“We certainly did,” replied Lily, taking the hint. “And have you made
all your arrangements satisfactorily?”
“Yes,” answered the other. “We haven’t so much to buy as we had for our
trip out, because we’re not planning to do any camping.”
“What?” demanded Milton Crowell, in astonishment. “Then you have changed
your plans?”
Marjorie drew down the corners of her mouth in amusement at the young
man’s instant display of interest. Surely she was correct in her surmise
that this concern was not prompted by mere idle curiosity!
“Yes—the car would be too crowded if we loaded it up with equipment,”
she explained. “Besides Mrs. Hart is not keen about it, and we must
consider her wishes.”
“Naturally,” he agreed.
Lily put an abrupt end to this conversation by reminding the girls of
their need to retire early m view of the morrow’s strenuous program. In
reality, she wanted to be alone with Marjorie to see whether she would
reveal anything about her occupation during the afternoon. But both
Marjorie and Ethel refused to divulge the secret.
“You really expect some sort of midnight raid from the Crowells?” Lily
asked carelessly just for something to say.
“To tell you the truth, Lil,” replied Marjorie, “I don’t know what to
expect. Since we’re not going to camp out, I can’t see just how they can
work it. But I feel confident that they’ll try something.”
“Marj,” said the other girl, seriously, “I begin to think that it’s sort
of dangerous for you even to attempt the trip back. What if they’d shoot
you in a lonely place—?”
“Nonsense, Lil! We’ve got to take some risks. Think what it means to
us—to Daisy and Flos—and to the whole Girl Scout organization!”
“And as usual you’re ready to defy consequences!” retorted Lily.
“But we always came out all right before, and we surely will now!”
“But we always had the boys to help us,” objected Lily.
Marjorie stole a glance at Ethel, but said nothing.
“But perhaps nothing will happen,” put in Ethel, in amusement. “After
all, the whole thing is only a matter of conjecture.”
“Then since you persist in carrying out your plans,” announced Lily, “I
have decided to go along with you. You’ve got to pack me in somewhere!”
“No, no, Lily!” protested Marjorie vehemently. “We’d love to have you,
but you think that it’s dangerous and maybe you’re right. Remember
you’re an only child!”
“You’ve used that argument before!”
“And it’s still true!”
“Well, I’m going, anyhow. Now—listen to this: I haven’t made any
reservations to go on the train with the others!”
“What?” demanded Marjorie in surprise, realizing for the first time that
the girl was in earnest.
“No, I haven’t! So you have to take me along with you.”
The argument proved conclusive; Marjorie had no idea of subjecting her
chum to the weariness of a journey to the east alone. Accordingly, when
the party passed the following morning, Alice and Mrs. Remington were
the only ones left behind to return by rail.
The seven-passenger car in which they had travelled to the Pacific Coast
had been completely overhauled and pronounced by an expert to be in
perfect condition for the return trip. But this time not one of the
party, except possibly Mrs. Hart, looked forward to a smooth and
uneventful tour. Marjorie even wondered secretly whether they would not
all be a trifle disappointed if nothing did happen.
And yet when she thought it over she did not quite see how an attack
could be planned. The schedule had been carefully prepared so that there
need be no driving at night; each sunset was to find them at some inn or
hotel, and the car safely stored for the night in a garage. Whatever
took place would have to be planned for broad daylight, and there seemed
to be too much traffic to allow any measure of success. Nevertheless she
made up her mind to keep a sharp look-out for trouble.
In order to have a change of scenery the girls decided not to take the
Lincoln Highway, but to go home by another route. In her shopping tours
about San Francisco Marjorie had picked up a very complete book, in
which was printed not only a map of the trip, but a description of the
best hotels and inns along the way. She had made it a point to purchase
two copies, one of which she had marked for Miss Vaughn’s benefit. So,
if the Crowell boys chose, they could figure out approximately where the
party would be at each hour of every day. Lily had reprimanded her for
her daring, saying that she was only putting temptation into the young
men’s way and making things more dangerous for herself; but with her
usual spirit Marjorie had replied that she loved adventure.
But by the time that two days had passed without the slightest accident
to disturb their progress, and the Girl Scouts had left the state of
California, Marjorie herself began to doubt whether there would be any
excitement. On that very day, however, they met with the first
noteworthy experience.
It was a hot day; the sun was shining brightly and the road upon which
they were travelling was hard and dry. The girls looked in vain for
shade; as far as they could see in the distance there was no promise of
relief.
“No wonder there are so few cars,” remarked Ethel, listlessly. “If I had
my choice, I’d rather stay at home today too.”
“There must be at least one behind us somewhere,” muttered Marjorie, in
a tone too low for anyone else to hear. “The boys aren’t far away.”
“No,” replied Ethel. “I think, by the way, that they must have stayed at
that hotel across the street from us last night. I think I caught a
glimpse of them on the porch when we drove away.”
“No doubt you did. Doesn’t it seem funny not to wait for them, and speak
to them?”
“It must be torture for poor John Hadley!” teased Ethel. “You certainly
can be cruel, Marj—”
“Hush, Ethel!” remonstrated the other. “You’ll let the cat out of the
bag.”
“I wonder,” remarked Lily, loud enough for the whole party to hear,
“whether we wouldn’t dare turn aside here at the next crossroad. This
seems to be shady, and the guide-book says that it is all right, and not
out of our way.”
“I’m doubtful of detours,” laughed Marjorie. “Our experience before
wasn’t so good.”
“Oh, there can’t be anything like that,” said Lily. “Unless you hate to
leave the beaten track, I don’t see why we shouldn’t.”
“I’ll take a chance!” agreed Marjorie, turning into the crossroad.
Just as the guide-book stated, the route did prove more attractive; but,
as Marjorie for some unknown reason suspected, a surprise awaited them.
Hardly had they proceeded half a mile before two armed men on horseback
suddenly appeared from the brushwood on the side of the road.
“I knew it!” whispered Marjorie, her eyes alight with expectancy. “The
Crowells!”
“Never!” whispered Ethel. “They’re too old, even to be bribed—”
“We demand a search!” thundered the larger of the two men, peering from
under his wide hat right into the startled eyes of the scouts. “Everyone
get out, please!”
“A search for what?” faltered Mrs. Hart, her voice trembling with
emotion.
“For booze! We are sheriffs of the state of Nevada!”
“Let’s see your badge!” challenged Marjorie, fearlessly.
Both men immediately pushed back their coats in amusement, and, to the
consternation of all the scouts, displayed their silver stars. Lily
gasped in wonder, and Marjorie informally broke into a laugh. It was
Mrs. Hart who had to remind them that they must make haste to comply
with the command.
“We really don’t expect to find bootleggers among young ladies,”
apologized the milder of the two officers, “but it’s a rule to search
everybody.”
“Oh, we don’t mind a bit!” replied Marjorie. “We’re so thankful that
you’re not bandits or thieves. You see we’re used to meeting such people
on our way.”
“What?” demanded both officers at once. “We thought that these roads
were safe for motorists,” added one.
“Safe for everybody but us, it seems,” explained Marjorie. “On our way
out we were robbed of money and food and clothing and a car—”
“At different times?”
“Yes.”
“And by different persons?”
“That we don’t know,” answered Marjorie. “We never caught anybody.”
“I should say that you need a detective—or a body-guard,” remarked the
officer, as he indicated that the scouts should get into the car.
“I guess we have one,” muttered Marjorie to herself; for, just as she
started her engine, a touring car with two young men passed the car. To
the amazement of all but Marjorie and Ethel the girls recognized Jack
Wilkinson and John Hadley!
“Am I dreaming?” gasped Lily, “or were they really Jack and John?”
Marjorie and Ethel both laughed heartily.
“The very same,” replied the latter.
“But how—?” began Daisy.
Marjorie put her finger over her lips, in warning to the girls not to
ask any enlightening questions before Mrs. Hart. The girls took the
hint, and though they were sincerely puzzled, kept quiet.
“Don’t forget Chicago!” remarked Ethel, enigmatically.
“But why Chicago?” demanded Lily.
“Because John happened to be there on business,” Marjorie explained, “so
Jack went with him, both expecting to use their vacations for a lake
trip. John wrote me from there.”
“Thank Heaven!” cried Lily, settling back into her seat with a sigh of
relief. For in her subtle manner, Marjorie had conveyed to the girls
that they now had protectors.