The Motor Girls at Lookout Beach Part 8

"Not a bit--that I can tell," she answered. "That natural--hammock--was a miracle."

She attempted to rise, but fell back rather suddenly.

"I've got a twist somewhere," she said. "I think my shoulder is sprained."

Without waiting to be asked to do so Frank, the younger of the farm hands, put his arm about Cora's waist, and brought her to her feet.

"Oh, thank you," she stammered rather shyly. "I am sure you have helped me wonderfully. I don't know how to thank you--all."

"You can stand, eh?" asked Mr. Stevens, satisfaction showing in his voice, and ruddy face.

"I suppose you feel--that I should have taken your offer for the horses?" she remarked with confusion.

"Well, there is always a first time," he replied, "but since you are no worse off you must not complain. Guess the boys had better lift you to the road. Then we will see if you can run your car."

Again, in that straightforward way, peculiar to those who know when they're right and then go ahead, the "boys" simply picked Cora up, she putting her arms over their shoulders, and while the three other girls wended their way over the cliff, Cora was carried safely back to the spot where still lay the helpless _Whirlwind_.

CHAPTER VII

THE CLUE AT THE SPRING HOUSE

Just how Cora did manage to run her car into Chelton, with a stiffened wrist and a twisted shoulder, she was not able to explain afterward to the anxious ones at home. Belle rode with her, and was sufficiently familiar with the machine to take a hand at the wheel now and then, but it was Cora who drove the _Whirlwind_, in spite of that.

It was now two days since the eventful afternoon at the strawberry patch, and the girls were ready again to make the trip to Squaton, in quest of the crate of berries promised to Mrs. Robinson.

Jack argued that his sister was not strong enough to run her car with ease, so he insisted on going along. Then, when his friends, Ed Foster and Walter Pennington, heard of this they declared it was a trick of Jack's to "do them out of a run with the motor girls," and they promptly arranged to go along also.

Ed rode with Walter, in the latter's runabout, and the twins were, of course, together in the _Flyaway_, while Cora was beside Jack in the _Whirlwind_, for, although the girls were speedily turning into the years that would make them young ladies, they still maintained the decorum of riding "girls with girls" and "boys with boys," except on very rare occasions.

As they rode along, an old stone house, set far back from the highway, attracted Jack's attention.

"Let's stop here," he suggested, "and look over the place. I'll bet it has an open fire place with a crane and fixings, for cooking."

Word was pa.s.sed to those in the other cars, and all were glad to stop, for the afternoon was delightful, and the ride to Squaton rather short.

As no path marked the gra.s.s that led to the old house it was evident that no one had lately occupied it. The boys ran on ahead to make sure that no ghosts or other "demons" might be lurking within the moldy place, while Cora, Bess and Belle stopped to pick some particularly pretty forget-me-nots, from near the spring that trickled along through the neglected place.

Just back of the house, over the spring, the boys discovered the inevitable house for cooling milk, and here they delayed to drink from their pocket cups.

"What's in the other side?" asked Walter, peering through the broken boards into a second room or shed, for the shack was divided into two parts.

"More spring, I suppose," replied Jack, taking his third drink from the small cup.

Walter and Ed had finished drinking just as the girls came up, and Jack attended to their various degrees of thirst for pure spring water.

"What a quaint old place," remarked Belle. "What's in the other little house?"

"We are just about to find out," said Jack. "The other fellows couldn't wait, and are in there now."

Hurrying out, they all entered, through the battered door, into the "other side."

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Ed. "What does this mean?"

"I also declare, 'what does this mean?'" added Jack, picking up from a queer sort of wooden platform in the place, the unmistakable blue bonnet of a child or young girl.

"And this!" exclaimed Cora, picking up a hat. "This is--Nellie's hat!

Nellie from the strawberry patch!"

"They have run away!" gasped Bess, without further investigation, "and here are the remains of their lunch!" The fragments of a very meager meal--some crusts of dry bread--and an empty strawberry box, told the story. "Surely this had been the lunch of the runaways."

"They must have slept here," went on Cora. "Poor little dears! What a shame! How frightened they must have been to sleep in such a place."

"When you young ladies get through with the allegory, I hope you will give us the libretto," interrupted Jack. "Who may be the fair maids who have slept in this shack, and eaten the bread of freedom?"

"Why, the girls from the strawberry patch, of course," said Bess, as if that explained everything.

"Why 'of course,'" said Jack mockingly.

"Certainly, of course," put in Ed, in the same tone of voice.

"And, to be sure, of course," went on Walter, provokingly.

"Why, we didn't tell you, did we?" spoke Cora finally. Then she did tell as much as she thought it wise to divulge about Nellie and Rose.

This information "caused a stir," (as Jack put it) among the boys.

Instantly they began up-turning stones, pulling down boards, and doing all sorts of foolish things searching for the runaways. But no other evidences were unearthed of the stay of the two girls in the spring house.

"I hope they hear us," called Jack, finally, raising his voice almost to a shout. "I must find Rose," he called. "Rose is all the world to me! My own little garden flower without a thorn----"

Walter interrupted with: "I must see Nellie home! Nellie! Nellie!

Pretty little Nellie!"

"Do be quiet," begged Cora, "you will arouse the ghosts in the old house."

"Let's," suggested Walter. "Haven't seen a ghost in an age, and a ghost would be just pie for us in this place."

"Please don't," almost sobbed Belle. "I am really awfully creepy in here."

Seeing that she was actually nervous, the girls went outside, but the boys were not yet satisfied with their investigations.

"What on earth is this rig-a-my-gig for?" asked Walter, indicating the big sloping circular platform which occupied nearly all the s.p.a.ce in the shack. It was on a pivot and could be turned around.

"Why, that's--let me see, that's----" but Jack couldn't just say what it was.

"I know," exclaimed Ed, suddenly. "That's a treadmill."