Part 4 (1/2)

But, though the motor girls tried to be merry, the little cloud of Freda's trouble overshadowed them all the way to Crystal Bay.

CHAPTER III

CRYSTAL BAY

”Here we are!”

”Where's the bungalow?”

”Me for that motor boat of Cora's!” cried Jack.

”No, you don't!” exclaimed his sister. ”Not till I try her first.”

They had alighted at the station, and there was the confusion that always follows engaging a carriage and seeing that the baggage has safely arrived. Cora found time to slip off for a minute and whisper words of cheer to Freda. Then she rejoined her chums, and made ready for the trip to the bungalow.

The boys, with a fine disregard of housekeeping responsibilities, were already making plans to go fis.h.i.+ng that afternoon, having spied a man who took out parties in his launch.

But finally order came out of chaos. The girls found themselves at their bungalow, surrounded by their belongings. The boys, after seeing that their possessions were piled in the tent, slipped on their oldest garments and began overhauling their fis.h.i.+ng tackle.

”Aren't you going to do anything toward getting a meal?” asked Cora of Jack, as she went over to the tent to borrow a corkscrew with which to open some olives.

”We thought maybe you'd ask us over,” he answered, craftily, as he adjusted a reel on his rod.

”Oh, Jack!” she cried. ”We can't! We've got so much to unpack.

Besides, we're only going to have a light lunch now.”

”A _light_ lunch! Excuse me. I know--crackers, pickles and olives.

Never! We'll go to the town delicatessen, sister mine!”

”Thank goodness there is one,” murmured Cora.

She hastened back to the bungalow. And then began a series of strenuous happenings.

Somehow trunks and suitcases were unpacked; somehow rooms were picked out, rejected, taken again, and finally settled on. Then, between the nibblings at the crackers and pickles Jack had despised, the girls settled down, and at last had time to admire the place they had selected for their Summer stay.

A woman had been engaged to open the bungalow for them, and she had provided most of the necessaries of life, aside from those the girls brought with them. Cora and her chums had been satisfied to have her attend to everything from buying food to providing an oil stove on which to cook it.

There were a number of conveniences at Crystal Bay. Stores were not out of reach, and supplies could be procured with little trouble. A trip across the bay brought one to the sh.o.r.es of a real village, with school house, post-office and other accessories of civilization. A trip down the bay opened into eel pots in August, bluefis.h.i.+ng in September and deep sea fis.h.i.+ng later on, when the Summer colonists had departed.

Very early in the morning after the arrival of the motor girls at Crystal Bay, house, tent and bungalow were deserted--it was all a matter of motor boat. Moored to the brand new dock, at Tangle Turn, a brand new motor craft heaved with the incoming waves and tugged at its ropes whenever a sufficiently strong motion of the water gave it excuse to attempt an escape.

This was the _Chelton_, the ”up-to-datest” little-big motor boat possible to own or acquire, according to the verdict of the young men from Chelton who had just now pa.s.sed judgment, and the wise decision of Cora and her girl friends who had actually bought the boat, after having taken a post-graduate course in catalogs and hardware periodicals, to say nothing of the countless interviews they had found it necessary to hold with salesmen and yacht agents.

They were all there, even Freda, who declared she ought to be busy with other matters, but that the call of the colony was too strong for her that one morning, at least.

”Of course we know how to run her,” insisted Cora to Ed, the latter having expressed doubt as to the girls' ability to manage so important a craft. ”Didn't we run the _Pet_?”

”Oh, yes, but this--this is a deep-sea boat,” Ed explained, ”and you might run yourselves away to other sh.o.r.es.”