Tabitha's Vacation Part 30

"A joke? I can't see any joke about that!" spluttered Jessie indignantly. "Did you think we wanted to go for a forty-mile auto ride on empty stomachs? I'm as hungry as a bear this minute."

"I am awfully sorry," cried Myra penitently, sobering at the realization of just what would be the outcome of her joke. "I meant to set them two hours ahead, so you would all get up at daybreak and be ready long before the autos came."

"Just like you!" they exclaimed, half amused, half provoked. "What are you going to do about it now?"

"What can we do? The autos are here already with the rest of the people. There are the Carsons and here comes Miss Pomeroy."

"And there is Tabitha's father in his new machine."

"Yes, and mine," said Myra. "My! won't he be mad to think we aren't even dressed? If there is one thing above another that he abominates, it is having to wait for a woman to get ready to go somewhere. Well, I suppose I'll have to break the news to him. Then after you have all gone home again, won't I get the d.i.c.kens?"

"Hold on!" cried Tabitha, as Myra started for the door. "There is no need of that, is there? I've got a brilliant inspiration. Didn't you say when you investigated the larder last night that your aunt must have baked just a-purpose for our visit?"

"Yes, words to that effect. There is a whole crock full of doughnuts and another of cookies. She must have had baking day just before she decided to take her little trip. But why?"

"We'll just fill our pockets----"

"Haven't any!"

"Well, our hands, then, and eat our breakfast on the sly."

"On the _fly_ you mean," said Gwynne, sarcastically.

"To be exact, yes. Or perhaps it would be better to pretend that we just found the supplies as we were about to leave the house. That will be the truth, so far as the most of us are concerned. Won't it?"

"But cookies and doughnuts are pretty slim fare for hungry bodies,"

grumbled Vera, tugging at an unruly collar.

"Better than nothing," said Bessie cheerfully. "Dinner will taste all the better."

"But we aren't ready," objected Julia, slipping the last hairpin in the heavy coil at the back of her head. "My shoes aren't b.u.t.toned yet, and I can't scare up a hook in the whole outfit."

"Bring 'em in your hand, then," suggested Gwynne. "I'm ready now, and I elect myself commissary general to distribute the rations as you pa.s.s out. Who'll be first in line? Gather up your bedding, Jessie, and stack it in the corner, else Myra's aunt will think tramps camped here instead of civilized human beings. Now, are you all clothed and in your right minds? Then, Grace, poke your head out of the window and announce to the audience that we will be out in a minute. Where are your hats and coats? Yes, Kate, there'll be time for you to wash your face if you haven't been able to do so before. Look pleasant, please!

No one must suspect that we've had no breakfast; but in my mind's eye, I can see this bunch stowing away their dinner three or four hours from now. Hope they serve it as soon as we get there. Do you suppose there will be enough to go around? How far did you say it was, Myra? Forty miles?"

Laughing and joking, the dozen hungry, breakfastless girls hurried into their coats and veils, seized their pitifully small allotment of doughnuts and cookies, and boisterously climbed aboard the autos waiting for them.

"Only ten minutes late by actual count," Mr. Haskell complimented them, as the merry crowd poured out of the door.

"Well, well, that's doing fine! How did it happen?"

"It's all Myra's fault," began Vera plaintively, but Myra, fearful that she was about to be betrayed, hastily asked, "Where is the dinner, Dad?

Didn't mother tell you to bring----"

"Some stuffed squabs, fruit and cake? Yes, she did; and it's packed in that trunk hitched onto the step there. You'll have to sit on it, I guess. There doesn't seem to be quite room enough to accommodate all the crowd."

This arrangement just suited Myra, who loved to romp like her brothers; so she gleefully perched on top of the long, flat chest strapped on one side of the auto, and the procession slowly set out on its long journey.

"My! but it's a beautiful day," sighed Tabitha at length, her eyes wandering from the fog-wet landscape below to the sky above, where the blue was already chasing away the gray, as the sun struggled up behind the eastern hills.

"Didn't I tell you so?" crowed Gwynne, regretfully studying the last bite of a doughnut before popping it into her mouth. "It doesn't rain in California. Is this the river we cross eighteen times, Myra, in order to reach your ranch?"

"Only eight," mumbled Myra, with her mouth full of cookie crumbs.

"This is it. Allow me to introduce you to the great----"

"Great!" echoed Tabitha, looking down at the shallow, sluggish stream with critical eyes. "Is it _really_ a river? Looks to me like the little puddles we used to sail boats in after a heavy rain-storm back home when I was a little tot."

"It isn't very awe-inspiring now, is it? But you should see it in the spring after the rains. It certainly can play havoc then. Changes its channel every two or three years, and causes all sorts of damage. What is the matter ahead there?" Their auto had slowed down suddenly, and now came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the road. "What has happened, Dad?"

"Carson's auto is stuck in the mud."

"Mud?"

"Well, the river-bed, if that suits you any better. I'll get out and see if I can help them----"

"No need; they've started up again," said Tabitha, waving her hand at Carrie and wishing that she had been fortunate enough to get a seat in Mr. Carson's machine.

The delayed procession started onward again, and without further difficulty crossed the muddy river-bed and sped swiftly away down the smooth road on the other side. But that same river had to be reckoned with seven more times, and each time at least one of the cars sank in the treacherous mud and had to be dug out.

"Well, thank fortune, this is the last time we cross!" breathed Myra, as they approached the winding river for the eighth time. "Ours is the only auto that hasn't stuck fast so far. Let her out, Dad, and we'll be on the other bank in a jiffy. I never knew the river to be so high at this season of the year."

"Knock on wood, Myra, knock on wood!" cried Gwynne in mock alarm. "Too late, we've stuck fast! Why on earth couldn't you wait until we had safely reached the other side before you commenced bragging?"

"Huh! You superst.i.tious duck, did you think we could escape? Oh, pshaw, we're out! Not even the fun of having to be helped across like the others were! Well, never mind, Mr. Catt's machine is sure to stick again. It has every time so far. There, didn't I tell you? Hurrah!

Watch your father puff, Kitty. Ain't he a sight? Get out your shovel, Mr. Catt!"

Myra was excitedly dancing on the lid of the luncheon-filled chest, as she hung precariously over the back of the tonneau, and bawled her remarks at the unfortunate occupants of the auto behind them, which seemed to sink deeper and deeper in the mire with every effort to dig her out.

"Fasten this rope to your car and we'll try dragging you out," finally suggested the ponderous Mr. Haskell, clambering heavily down from his seat at the wheel and going to the aid of his unlucky neighbor, who was not yet much skilled in the art of running an automobile. So they tied the two cars together with a heavy rope, and tried to drag the captive machine loose, but without success.

"Let me drive," suggested Myra, after they had tugged in vain for several minutes, "and you get out and pull on the rope, too."

"What good will that do?" growled her father crossly. "If sixty horse power won't budge the thing, do you suppose man's puny strength will?"

Nevertheless, he crawled out of his seat once more, and seized the great rope dangling between the two cars. Mr. Catt, resigning his wheel to the driver of the next machine in line, followed Mr. Haskell's example, and with three or four of the other men of the party, they added their strength to that of the machine, and pulled with all their might. Myra, at the wheel, was in her element, and putting on full power, she gave the lever a vicious jerk. The car leaped forward like a thing alive, and bounded up the opposite bank at break-neck speed.

"Ah!" she cried in triumph, "I knew I could get her started. I'm a bird!"

"Oh, Daddy," shrieked Tabitha's voice from the rear seat. "Let go, oh, let go! Mr. Haskell, you'll be killed!"

"Myra, you chump!" hissed Gwynne in her ear. "Shut that thing off!

The rope's bu'sted and you are dragging our precious men folks uphill."

Myra glanced hastily behind her, reversed the wheel, and as the car came to a standstill, she sprawled across the seat, doubled up with merriment, half hysterical. "Oh, didn't they look funny hanging onto that rope? What fools some mortals be! Why didn't they let go? Bet Dad's got his nose skinned good, for when I looked back, he was plowing up the road on his head. Is he hurt? I don't dast to ask! Mr. Catt, your clothes are pretty dusty."

"Dusty I'll admit, but not very pretty," he smiled grimly, as he wiped the perspiration from his grimy face. "However, you got the car out of the rut, so perhaps we can proceed on our way now."

"Then it might be wise if I resigned my seat to the chauffeur before I am requested," chuckled Myra, still laughing immoderately at thought of her father's undignified att.i.tude as he was dragged through the dust, clinging desperately to the frayed end of the broken rope. So she scrambled nimbly to her place on the running board, and there Mr.

Haskell found her sitting prim and decorous when he had finally recovered his breath and made himself sufficiently presentable to face the rest of the party.