The Nowadays Girls in the Adirondacks or, The deserted bungalow on Saranac Lake
Pull hard, boys," he called to his companion and the chef, who was also
taking his "spell" at the oars of the light guide-boats.
But it was evident to the girls themselves that they were not going
to escape the storm. To the low and deep rumblings in the west, there
succeeded louder-voiced mutterings of some unseen god of the weather.
The black clouds were slashed open now and then by vivid streaks of
lightning, rose-tinted and pink, and again of a flashing electric
blue-green in colour.
"We're going to get it!" murmured one of the men.
The girls looked anxiously toward the shores of Seventh Lake, on which
they then were. The water was about a mile in width here, and they were
in the middle.
"We'd better put in!" called the leading boatman to the others. "I
thought we could make Henderson's, but we can't! Lively now!"
It became darker and darker. The thunder was coming more and more
frequently, and the darkness that had suddenly fallen over the
brightness of the day was relieved at intervals by the hissing
lightning.
"Here it comes!" cried one of the guides.
An instant later the lake seemed to boil with the violence of the
rainfall. The girls and Mrs. Brownley, having been warned in time, had
put on mackintoshes, but the men scorned anything like that, and did
not stop to don any extra garments.
They pulled desperately for the shore, and reached it in the midst of a
driving downpour.
"Over this way," directed the leading guide, as the boats grated on the
shore. "There's a shack around here somewhere."
He led the way, and a little later they all stood under a rude shelter
that was sufficiently water-tight to keep off most of the rain. The
things in the boats had been covered with pieces of canvas.
"Oh!" screamed Rose as a particularly vivid flash and a crash of
thunder came almost together. "That struck near here!"
"I guess it did, miss," was the cool answer of the guide called Jimmie.
"Did it hit a house?" asked Alice.
"No, some tree I reckon," said the guide who had been addressed as
Jake. "Lots of times trees get struck up here. We don't mind it much."
"Shall we be able to go on?" asked Mrs. Brownley, anxiously.
"Well, if this rain lets up we can, easy, or we could manage to keep
goin' in the boats, anyhow, if you didn't mind it," Jake answered.
"I think it will be better to wait," suggested Sylvia. "I don't like
being on the lake in an open boat during a storm."
"Nor I," added Hazel.
"But it doesn't seem as though it would ever stop," broke in Alice,
dubiously. "It's raining harder than ever."
"What shall we do if we can't go on?" Rose wanted to know.
"Well, we'll have to stay here--camp out or do something," Sylvia
said. "You spoke of a camp, or something, near here?" she went on
questioningly to Jimmie.
"Yes, miss. There's a good cabin not far from here. It's hired out to
parties, and it's well furnished. If that isn't in use you can stay
there if you don't want to go on."
"But what about places to sleep, and things to eat?" asked Mrs.
Brownley.
"That's all provided, lady. There's grub--that is, food--at the cabin,
and plenty of beds, such as they are. Not feathers, of course, but----"
"Oh, we don't in the least mind roughing it," put in Sylvia. "In fact,
I think it would be rather jolly than otherwise."
"So do I!" exclaimed Alice. And as Hazel also joined in, there was
nothing for Rose to do but agree. And so, as the rain showed no signs
of slackening, it was decided to spend the night out in the little
cabin, to which the guides offered to lead the party. And a little
later they set off through the woods in the downpour.
CHAPTER XI
TROUBLE
"Why, this isn't half bad!"
"No, indeed! I think it's real cosy!"
"And what a lovely open fireplace!"
"A fire wouldn't be at all out of the way now. I'm thoroughly drenched,
girls!"
Our four friends thus expressed themselves in turn as they stood in the
little log cabin to which the guides had conducted them through the
storm. They could hear the rain beating down on the slab roof, hear it
pattering on the leaves of the trees that surrounded the place, and
they listened to the sigh of the wind as it lashed itself to fury in a
semblance of a hurricane.
"It's better than I expected, my dears," said Mrs. Brownley, after a
quick survey of the small bedrooms opening from the main apartment.
"Then we'll stay here to-night," decided Sylvia. "That is, if we may?"
she added to the guides.
"Oh, yes," said Jimmie, quickly. "You see, we have charge of this
place--me and my partner. We let it out when any one wants it, and it's
lucky it didn't happen to be engaged just now. You can stay here and
welcome."
"We'll pay the usual price, of course," said Sylvia, quickly, "and be
glad of the opportunity. You spoke of something to eat?" she went on.
"Yes, I guess it's pretty well stocked with canned stuff. We might
catch a few fish, even if it does rain. We can bring up your things
from the boats, and the bunks are made up fresh."
"That's a comfort," sighed the chaperon. "We'll stay here, girls. And
be glad of the opportunity. It will be an experience."
"But won't they worry at the Antlers?" asked Rose, referring to the
hotel where they had engaged rooms for their stay at Raquette Lake.
"They expect us, and know we are coming up the lake. If we don't
arrive----"
"I guess I can manage to telephone 'em by nightfall," put in one of the
guides. "I'll tell 'em you are storm-bound."
"Then it will be all right," Rose remarked, with a sigh of relief. She
really could not bear to think of going on the lake in the storm.
"I'll make a fire on the hearth," the chef said, and while he busied
himself at that the other two guides set off to bring up the baggage
from the boats. Mrs. Brownley and the girls proceeded to make
themselves comfortable, and to wait for the blaze to dry some of their
damp garments and their shoes.
Tramping along the wet and soggy trail, burdened with the baggage
from the boats, the guides came back to the cabin. But it was a more
cheerful place than when they had left it, for now a fire was merrily
crackling on the hearth, and the faces of the girls and that of Mrs.
Brownley had lost much of the worried, nervous look. They were quite
content to spend the forthcoming night where they were.
A hasty search through the cabin had revealed a sufficient quantity of
food, together with what was left from luncheon, to make an evening
meal and breakfast. Then, too, the discovery that the place contained
several "cute" little bunks, with inviting sheets and plenty of
coverings, added to the feeling of comfort.
The guides had announced that there was another shanty nearby where
they were in the habit of sleeping when stopping in the woods overnight
with a party that occupied the main cabin. They would use the annex on
this occasion.
And so, with supplies from their baggage to draw on, and with the
prospect of a meal whenever they wanted it, our friends resigned
themselves to the situation. And it was not such an unpleasant
situation, after all. In fact it was really cosy to listen to the
crackle of the fire on the hearth, and contrast it with the patter of
the rain outside.
Clearly it would have been out of the question to have gone on in the
storm in open boats. This they all decided when one of the guides went
out to find the nearest telephone to communicate with the Antlers. He
managed to discover one after an hour or two.
By this time an early supper had been served, and the girls and Aunt
Theodora prepared to spend the evening as best they could in the cabin,
for it was out of the question to do anything else than sit around and
talk.
They found some old magazines, but the lights were none of the best for
reading, so they gave that up, and sat in front of the blaze, seeing
pictures in the flames, and telling fortunes.
The guides had retired to their own cabin, not far away, and from
it, now and then, could be heard guffaws of laughter which served to
relieve the quietness of the woods, that was broken, otherwise, by only
the patter of the rain.
It was close to midnight when the girls went to their beds, for they
did not feel sleepy, and preferred sitting up to tossing restlessly on
the narrow bunks. They occupied three rooms, Rose and Sylvia being in
one, Hazel and Alice in another and Mrs. Brownley in the third, all
opening from the main apartment, or living-room, of the cabin.
Just who first heard the call and the following rap on the door is
uncertain. They all seemed to awaken at the same time, and Sylvia
demanded:
"What is it? Who's there?"
"What's the matter?" asked Rose, nervously.
"Some one outside knocking and calling," said Sylvia. "Listen, Rose!"
There came a pounding on the door, and a voice called:
"Open and let us in. We're in trouble!"
"Trouble?" voiced Sylvia, half frightened.
"Yes, we've lost our way. There are ladies here!"
"Oh, do let us in!" besought a tearful voice that was unmistakably
feminine.
"What--what shall we do?" faltered Rose.
"Wait a minute!" came in the calm tones of Mrs. Brownley.
CHAPTER XII
THE MOTOR BOAT
The chaperon, who had hastily donned a dressing-gown and warm slippers,
made her way to the locked and barred door.
"What is it?" she turned to ask Sylvia, who, too, had arisen, and
hastily garbed herself in whatever was nearest to hand.
"Some one knocked, and----"
She was interrupted by the very thing she was explaining--a rap on the
stout slab door.
"Is any one here?" a voice demanded. "We see a light, and there is a
lady here--two ladies and----"
"Oh, please let me in!" begged a half-sobbing voice. "I am wet through,
we are lost and--and----"
"One moment," Aunt Theodora said, firmly. "Let the ladies advance, and
the gentlemen retreat."
It was as though she had said: "Advance, friend, and give the
countersign!"
"Henry, you go away," said a voice on the other side of the door.
"Suzanne and I will go in."
"But what is to become of me?" was the answer. "What will Ritz and I do
in this wilderness?"
"We shall settle that later," went on the woman's voice. "Go away. I
understand why they do not want you to be in sight when they open the
door. There are ladies in there!"
"Oh!" There was a world of comprehension in his exclamation.
"I'm going to open the door," said Mrs. Brownley. "You ladies are
welcome to such shelter as we have. How many of you are there?"
"Two women and two men," a feminine voice answered.
"The two men will have to go elsewhere. We have only ladies in here,"
said the chaperon, as she fumbled with the fastenings of the door.
Under the watching eyes of her own four young ladies, she swung
back the door. A gust of rainy wind entered, blowing ashes from the
half-dying fire all about. From the darkness, into the mellow glow of
the hearth-blaze and the gleam from the night-light, stepped two women
from whom dripped much water. One appeared to be the mistress, the
other a maid, and the former, fairly staggering in, let fall a light
valise while, throwing up her arms in a tragic gesture, she exclaimed:
"Oh, what a honeymoon!"
For a moment Mrs. Brownley, and the girls as well, had a wild suspicion
that they had admitted a lunatic, for the woman's appearance was
sufficiently wild. But a second glance served to show that the disorder
of her hair and clothing was due to the storm, against which she had
evidently been struggling for some time.
Her companion stepped farther into the light, and Mrs. Brownley quickly
closed the door. The maid, for such she evidently was, had a larger