Part 10 (1/2)
”I've got it! Water in the carbureter!”
”Right-o!” confirmed Dray, in another moment. ”The spray mixed with the gas--dashed over into the air in-take valve. Moral, go slow, for water sometimes is fatal, even in a good cause!”
”Shame to spoil the race,” said Ed; ”we were just warming up.”
”It's all right,” commented Denny, ”and a good lesson. I never knew myself that too much speed would do the like of that. Well, I must be off doin' some ch.o.r.es. I've been a-galavantin' most of the day, and the fishes of Crystal Bay are not educated to come up to me door yet.
Thank you for the sport. It was fine,” he concluded, genially.
”Indeed you must come along again,” Cora urged. ”This was only a baby-trial. We will want to be going out on the deep soon; then you must come along.”
”Thank you, very kindly,” Denny called, as he started off. ”The deep is a bad place for young 'uns, I can tell you. Better stick around sh.o.r.e.”
”Tell us what is the matter, Lottie,” demanded Bess, for Lottie had not yet recovered her self-possession.
”Oh, I guess I had a chill,” she evaded, glancing at Cora.
”And the mere sight of a couple of strange men startled her,” Cora added. ”I have warned her there may be lots of strange men around Crystal Bay.”
”But not the same strange men every time,” Lottie put in. This gave a clue to her fright. The men who had secluded themselves under the Lonely Willow that morning had appeared again, this time in the vicinity of the girls' bungalow, now known as the ”Motely Mote.”
CHAPTER VII
IN THE MOTELY MOTE
”Do you young ladies realize that we have the cares of housekeeping on our shoulders?” asked Cora, from a ma.s.s of boxes and bags, not to mention trunks, in the alleged living room of the Mote.
”Oh, let us forget it--do,” begged Bess. ”I always hate the summertime when it brings dishes and things.”
”It's good for you,” affirmed Marita. Bess did know that hard work is considered ”good” for stout persons.
”Maybe, but it is not pleasant,” Bess answered, flinging herself upon the improvised couch, a matter of hammocks and blankets, still bearing baggage checks and tie-ropes.
”But our housekeeper has given notice,” announced Cora. ”And I don't wonder. Not one has been on time for a single meal since we arrived.
But I must say, I wish she had stayed until the stuff was all unpacked. It's dreadful on the hands,” and she looked at hers ruefully.
”Why not ask the boys to help?” asked Lottie, who was doing her best to press her damp clothes by stretching the most important of them over Belle's trunk, and holding them there with two suitcases. ”If I had not gotten these things wet I should have been glad to unpack, but if I leave them this way over night I shall never be able to wear them again.”
”If you knew the boys as well as we do,” Bess put in, ”you would know what their help means. They would insist upon trying on every article of clothing they unpacked; wouldn't they Cora?”
”Something like that, Bess, if they did unpack at all. But, seriously, if you will give me a little help to drag these empty trunks to the porch, I will tell you of a plan I have evolved. Of course we cannot remain this way without a chaperone.”
”Isn't it perfectly silly?” complained Belle. ”As if we were not all capable of taking care of ourselves.”
”Oh, I don't know about that,” objected Cora. ”I have noticed that in case of emergency, when some strange man happens to poke his nose in at the window, we are all rather glad to acknowledge we are mere babes.”
”And also when we meet them under willow trees,” Marita reminded the boastful ones. ”I am sure I agree with Cora that we need a chaperone, and perhaps a policeman or two.”