The Girl Scouts at Bellaire Part 2

"I think Grace is right," corrected Lalia. "That's Andy--see the arms swing!"

"If we could only get over to the club house to see the finish,"

suggested Lucille. "Oh, there are the Morgans in their car! They will give us a lift. Come on, girls, we can get to the avenue before they pa.s.s down," and giving an extra spurt to their already overstrained runners, the girls vied with the real contestants in the honors of marathon.

No need to ask for the lift in the Morgan car, for it seemed all Bellaire was making for the club house to see the finish of the Cross Country Run, and the girls piled on the big car exactly as girls do, when coming and going, to and from the ocean, in the height of bathing season.

"If our boys only hold out!" breathed Lalia. "We'll have the loveliest time at the club house, all our crowd are invited, and we may take our guests, of course," indicating the three visitors who were quite as eagerly interested in the race as were the local members of the party.

"We are starting pretty well," remarked Cleo, holding tightly to her support on the side of the auto. "We didn't expect to fall into a race first day!"

"Oh, vacation is always one grand frolic out here," responded Lucille, "and we always like to make a good start. Here we are," as the car followed the long line of autos threading their way in to the driveway, leading to the big, crowded club house on the emerald golf links.

By this time the runners were almost on their last lap, and cheering and shouting made the air vibrant with the joy of youth and the glory of healthful sport.

"Andy! Andy! Come on, Andy!" yelled the crowd.

"At-a-boy! At-a-boy!" came the shouts of youngsters who seemed to be suspended in the air, hanging on to everything they could grasp, with reckless risk to life and limb.

The club house orchestra had stopped its entertaining tunes, for guests cared no more for music, the scholaristic runs being of more than usual importance in deciding the season's championship.

"Bob! Go it, Bob!" went up a newly invigorated yell, as the runners turned from the broad field into a narrow stretch, that was outlined by the "tape" or finishing line.

"Oh!" screamed Cleo suddenly. "Look! That girl is directly in the way!" and just as she spoke the figure of a girl was seen to dart from somewhere directly into the first runner's path. She had raised her slim arms as if to stop him, and in the surprise of her sudden appearance Andy, who was well in the lead, stopped, staggered and then toppled over in a heap!

Instantly everything was in wild confusion. The crowds closed in around the finishing runners, so that from the cars or club house it was impossible to see more than a solid ma.s.s of persons.

"Is he dead?" boys were asking.

"Who was the ghost?" demanded others.

"She ought to be shot," insisted some of the academy boys.

"It was bad enough, to be on the last lap, but to have a ghost shoot out like that would finish any fellow's heart," declared the boy at Cleo's ear. "I hope they teach her a lesson."

"Grace!" Madaline exclaimed. "Did you see that dress? It was the same we saw on the queer girl who stared at us so! Maybe--she's crazy or something. I'm sure I could tell that was the same white dress with the black winders."

"Yes," declared Cleo to the other girls, "we saw her yesterday, and she was with the oddest-looking woman."

"Oh, I'll bet she's the girl they call Mary! Lives somewhere in the mountain, and has that funny old woman with her!" declared Lucille.

"If she isn't crazy she's very queer. And however did she get in that line without being seen?"

"Why, she just jumped from behind the hedge," said Angela Morgan, who was driving the car slowly out of the heavy traffic, "and I have seen her with that foreign woman down by the springs, always hunting flowers. They are a queer pair."

"Do you think the crowd will be rough with her?" asked Cleo anxiously.

"I never saw such eyes as that child looked out of. Like eyes that looked and couldn't see, sort of dazed," explained Cleo.

"Well, we can't hear who won or what happened until some of the crowd pa.s.ses out," said Lalia, "If Bob or Andy didn't win I'll be just sick in bed."

"And if anything happened to that queer little girl I'll have more than a mere collapse," added Madaline, who had been almost a silent spectator of the whole proceedings.

Just then there was a break in the line of cars, and directly in front of the Morgan machine dashed the little girl in her white dress, her two big braids flopping up and down on her slight shoulders.

And before anyone could reach the roadway, she had again slipped behind the dense hedge and was lost to view.

"Well, I never!" gasped Cleo.

"We'll have to find that woodland fairy some day," declared Lucille, and just then they heard that Bob had won the race.

CHAPTER IV

THE EAGLE'S FEATHER

It took but a few days for the visitors to become so well acquainted in their surroundings that even the generous a.s.sistance of Lalia and Lucille was no longer necessary at "the steering wheel." The diversity of scenery in Bellaire furnished such a contrast to that of Flosston that every day unfolded new wonders, and more interesting exploits.

But it was the mystery of the queer little girl, who frightened Andy MacMurry out of his race, and who had met the girls on their arrival in Bellaire, that furnished the real peak to their mountain interest and adventure. They were determined to hunt her out and unravel the mystery.

"The strange part of it is," said Cleo, as she and her chums were making a schedule for next day in the faithful little note books provided by Madaline at the beginning of their trip, "the very queer part of it is," she continued, "how the girl pops out of nowhere at almost any time, and she seems to disappear just when one thinks she is well within reach."

"Yes," added Grace, "I heard the drug store boy say this morning that a girl named Mary from Second Mountain was getting medicines without leaving any name, and under the new law some drugs, not poisons either, have to be signed for. And Dave, that's the druggist's name, said he supposed now she wouldn't come any more, because when he told her that, she gave him a look like a scared owl. I guess he means an owl looks without seeing, because that's the way our mystery girl looks."

"But she isn't blind," commented Cleo, "for I saw her look straight at us the day we came."

"And now, because we are determined to run her down I suppose it will be ages before we get a glimpse of her again," Grace complained, impatient for the promised excitement. "I asked the druggist if he knew her, and he laughed sort of queer, and said someone in the family must be a root and herb fiend, for she bought the queerest old dried roots and foreign herbs, that no one else ever called for. They even had to send to New York to get some of her orders filled. What do you suppose anyone wants old dried up roots for?"

"You can well guess that old Turkish woman, or whatever she is, can do woozy things with 'yarbs,'" said Cleo, giving the provincial p.r.o.nunciation to the word "herbs." Then they noted the chime in the hall calling the hour for lights out, and consequently folded their note books to comply with the rules. "But just suppose she is feeding them to Mary! Oh, maybe that's what's the matter with her!" and Cleo bounced from the divan over to the desk to make one last note in the day's records. "There! I shall be sure to remember it was I who--originated that. I'm sure it is going to be part of our plot!"

"And I guess," ventured Grace, "that they get the roots--for--well, for hair tonic," she floundered. "Roots ought to be good for bald heads!"

"Hair roots would be, of course," put in Madaline, excusing a yawn, "but I never saw them advertised."

"When I go in business I shall advertise real hair roots, planted on bald heads. Satisfaction guaranteed or money refunded," quoted Grace.

"Anyone may have marvelous hair by applying Madame Gracia's hair roots," added Cleo. "Just rub it on and watch it sprout! Well, we will go over Second Mountain to-morrow morning, as Aunt Audrey is away, and we will be left entirely to ourselves. But I must not forget very first thing to write to mother. You know she and dad are going West next week, and I may spend the entire summer with Aunt Audrey. You girls are to stay as long as you like, for Flosston Mill magnates, including both your fathers, may have to come to New York for headquarters, and then all our families will leave Pennsylvania."

"Isn't that glorious!" Grace exclaimed. "I think it's a perfectly splendid idea to have all our dads in the one firm. They can't do anything to separate us," and she gave Cleo an appreciative hug.

"Don't forget to dress in uniform to-morrow," Cleo reminded her chums.

"We have had enough vacation from scouting I think. I'm really sick for my old, practical self."

"Well, I renew my pledge every day, of course," Madaline declared.

"But I do feel lonely for my nice, tidy uniform. Do you suppose we shall attract attention around here?"

"No, indeed," answered Cleo. "I saw a group of girls yesterday in scout uniform. I suppose there is a troop here. But we don't have to look it up unless we get still more lonely. Well, good night, girlies.

I am going to try the new dream pillow. Isn't it darling?" and she pressed her cheek to the tiny heart-shaped down pillow, with its embroidered motto case, the latest remembrance from her loving mother.