The Nowadays Girls in the Adirondacks or, The deserted bungalow on Saranac Lake
"Oh, it isn't _that_ so much," Sylvia put in; "I think Aunt Theodora
wants a man along just for looks!"
"Once more, at your service," bowed Mr. Parson. Even Alice, who was,
perhaps, hypercritical, admitted that he was good-looking.
"Then let's make up a motor-boating party," proposed Natalie. "My
husband and I will be charmed to go with you girls. Can you run a boat?
Of course you can," she answered her own question promptly.
"We have," said Hazel, modestly. Indeed all four were experienced in
boats as well as in automobiles.
"Come down and see the _Clytie_," suggested Sylvia. "She's a beauty!"
CHAPTER XIII
BY THEMSELVES
The motor boat was made fast to a small private dock which stretched
out into Raquette Lake. Sitting in the craft, as the girls and their
newly wed friends, the Parson bride and groom, approached, was a man
of sour, not to say forbidding countenance. He was whittling a stick,
snipping the curling pieces of wood off with a formidable-looking
knife, and letting them fall into the placid waters of the lake, whence
they were blown away by little puffs of wind.
"Who is he?" asked Rose of Sylvia in a whisper as they came to the edge
of the dock and looked with longing eyes--all four of the Nowadays
Girls--at the boat.
"He's the skipper, caretaker, pilot, captain, whatever is the proper
title for a man in his capacity on a motor boat."
"He looks like Charon," murmured Alice.
"Hush! He'll hear you, and he's very sensitive," admonished Sylvia.
"Do you know him?" Hazel wanted to know.
"I've talked with him. Don't you dare call him Charon, Alice. He'll
begin inquiring who Mr. Charon was, and when we explain that he was
the dog-faced ferryman of the underworld, why then he'll up and act
mean. So don't make such allusions, if you are wise."
"Charon wasn't dog-faced," announced Hazel.
"Wasn't he? At any rate he wasn't a desirable acquaintance for a summer
motor-boat cruise, so kindly cease to remember."
"In other words--forget it!" exclaimed Rose.
"What _are_ you girls talking about?" demanded Natalie, with one of her
merry laughs.
"Oh, just nonsense!" said Sylvia. "But how do you like the boat?"
"It's a beauty!" exclaimed Alice, with sparkling eyes.
"And so complete!" declared Hazel. "May we really charter her?"
"I think it can be arranged," Sylvia answered. "We'll go aboard."
Meanwhile the sour-faced man was stolidly whittling away on the piece
of soft pine wood. He seemed to put a deal of vindictiveness into his
cuts and slashes, as though he were taking revenge on some enemy.
"Good morning," called Mistress Sylvia, with a bright and cheerful
smile, while her companions, including the bride and groom, formed a
little group back of her. "A beautiful day, isn't it?"
"For them as likes this weather," was the growled response, and the man
never looked up, but went on whittling. Rose saw that he was cutting
out a dagger--prophetic implement, perhaps.
"Oh, I think it's perfectly delightful," went on Sylvia.
"You do have such charming days up in the Adirondacks," added Alice,
determined to do what she could to help Sylvia chase away the gloom
from the dour one's countenance, for such, so Alice made a guess, was
the intent of her chum.
"The sunshine is--er--so--er--sunshiny!" said Rose, a bit lamely.
"And the water is so wet!" finished Hazel, with a frank laugh.
The man looked up, for the first time, and grunted:
"Ugh!"
"How are you this morning, Mr. Wrack?" went on Sylvia.
"Oh, 'bout as well as I'll ever be, I expect," he said, dismally.
"This bright sun hurts my eyes, and I'll be havin' hay-fever soon, I
expect, which is one reason why I like rainy days best. The dust from
the flowers don't fly so then, and I don't have to sneeze so often. But
now, havin' to stay here with this boat until the land knows when, I
don't know what will happen," and once more he cut savagely at the bit
of wood, making the shavings fly.
"That's what we came to see you about," said Sylvia, sweetly. "We are
thinking of hiring it."
"You be? Good!" The man seemed to undergo a Jekyll-Hyde transformation.
His face lost the sour look, and he straightened up, throwing the
half-completed dagger overboard. "I hope you do," he went on. "Since
the party that did engage her disappointed me I haven't known what to
turn my hand to. Will you really take her?"
"If we can come to terms," said Sylvia. "Our chaperon says we may plan
a motor-boat trip. I have told her of the _Clytie_, and now we have
come to see about it."
"Oh, I'll treat you right, lady. I'll treat you right!" exclaimed Mr.
Wrack. He seemed a different person.
It developed that he was not the owner of the craft, but had been
engaged to pilot it about Raquette Lake for a party of summer visitors,
who chartered the boat from the owner, who had engaged Mr. Wrack. But
the plans of the party could not be carried out, for a reason that
would not interest us, and there was the prospect of the boat's being
idle all summer.
"And I'd have been idle too," Mr. Wrack said, "for it's gettin' late in
the season to hire out a motor boat and pilot to any advantage. But if
you'll take her and me it won't be so bad. I'll make the price right.
Mr. Harrison, who owns the _Clytie_, left her to me after them other
folks backed out."
Sylvia and her girl chums were very practical if they were girls with
the latest ideas in regard to fashion, dances and other amusements.
They had liberal allowances, and they knew how to make them cover
their needs. So it was not long before they had struck a bargain with
Mr. Wrack. Aunt Theodora was again consulted and gave her consent, and
it was arranged that they were to have the entire use of the boat for
two weeks at least, and longer if they desired.
The Parsons were included in this bargain, and as they were to remain
at Raquette Lake until late fall they had an option on the craft after
our friends should have finished with her.
"And you go with the boat," said Sylvia to the sour-faced man, sour
no longer now that he realised he would have employment. He did not
even mention hay-fever, and he looked at the sun occasionally. "What I
mean," went on Sylvia, "is that you'll run the boat for us when we want
you to, and when we don't, we'll run it ourselves."
"Can you?" asked the pilot, doubtingly.
"Try us and see!" exclaimed Alice.
"Let's go for a run in her," suggested Hazel.
And so they started off. The girls' admiration for the _Clytie_
increased as they made a closer inspection.
"She certainly is a beauty!" declared Rose.
"Indeed, yes!" agreed Sylvia. "Self-starter, reverse gear, double
ignition system, weedless propeller, electric lights and lots of room."
"Why, we could sleep here and cook here," added Alice.
There was a half-cabin, with bunks that made seats during the day.
There was also a little alcohol stove and a tiny galley fitted with a
small collection of cooking utensils.
"She was built to allow folks to spend a night or two out in her," said
Mr. Wrack, as he sat at the wheel.
"Let me steer," begged Sylvia, and, having explained some of the
peculiarities of the lake, and what danger-spots to avoid, the pilot
did so. The _Clytie_ was of very light draught, to enable her to go in
shallow water.
By turns the four girls operated the boat around the sunny waters of
the lake, running over to Big Island and back again. Mr. Parson also
showed that he knew how to handle the craft, but Natalie showed no
desire to do so.
"I'd be sure to turn the wheel the wrong way, and send you all to the
bottom," she declared.
"The bottom isn't far off right here," observed Mr. Wrack. "It's mighty
shallow hereabouts."
The Nowadays Girls proved that they could manage a boat, to the not
unexacting requirements of the pilot, after which he "took it easy" and
let them do as they liked. They soon mastered the mechanical details.
A day or so after having chartered the _Clytie_, during which time Mrs.
Brownley had made several trips about the lake, Sylvia proposed that
she and her chums, with the Parsons, go for a trip by themselves--that
is, without Mr. Wrack.
He was satisfied to allow this, as he realised that the girls were
expert enough to look after themselves. So the trip--an all-day one,
lunch to be taken on Osprey Island--was planned.
But at the last minute Aunt Theodora developed a headache, which, she
well knew, would not be benefited by going out on the water in the sun.
"Oh, isn't it too bad!" exclaimed Sylvia. "Then----"
"Yes, you may go, my dears," said their kindly chaperon. "I know you
can look after yourselves, and it's broad daylight. There are many
craft on the lake, too. Just run along and have a good time. I'll be
all right. I'll just lie down and rest."
And when Sylvia went to call for the Parsons, Natalie had most
unaccountably forgotten the engagement, and she and her husband had
gone off together in a canoe.
"Well, did you ever!" exclaimed Rose.
"Let's go by ourselves," suggested Hazel.
"We could get Mr. Wrack," said Alice, hesitatingly.
"No, I told him we wouldn't need him, and he went over to Forked Lake
to see some friends. So if we go, we'll have to go by ourselves."
"Then let's go that way--just ourselves!" proposed Alice. "We have the
boat, the lunch and everything. Let's go, and perhaps we may have an
adventure!"
CHAPTER XIV
A DISMAL PROSPECT
Cheerfully chugging along was the _Clytie_. I say cheerfully, for the
rhythmical sounds of the exhaust, gentle enough in themselves thanks
to a good muffler, were accompanied by snatches of song from one or
another of the four girls who variously placed themselves about the
craft. Sylvia was at the wheel. Rose lolled on a locker near her,
regardless of the sun that was adding a tint of brown to the red in
her cheeks. Alice had sought the seclusion of the cabin for a time,
to readjust her wind-blown hair, and Hazel was boldly perched well up
in the bow, sitting tailor-fashion, like some modern figurehead. She
laughed gleefully when spray splashed up from the waves into her face.
"Oh, it is glorious! glorious!" she chanted in time to the throb of the
motor.
"Watch-girl, what of the outlook?" called Alice from the cabin. "Dost
see anything of that adventure yet?"
"No," answered Hazel. "I see a canoe with two young men in it
approaching, but they don't look at all romantic."
"Sheer off! Sheer off, Sylvia!" ordered Rose. "We are dedicated to
romance with a big R to-day. Nothing else will tempt us."
"I'd rather have a sandwich with a big S," said the steers-girl--or let
us be real feminists and say steersman.
"You did put the lunch aboard; didn't you?" asked Rose, a "horrible
suspicion gnawing at her vitals," as she confessed afterward.
"It is in the starboard locker," affirmed Sylvia.
"Right-O, my hearty!" sung out Hazel. "I saw you put it there!"
And so they chugged on, now and then saluting some other craft, canoe
or guide-boat, and an occasional motor boat, but the latter were rather
few. Steamers plied the waters of Raquette Lake, and they answered the
three tooting whistles of our girls in friendly salute.
"Alice, just look and see if the oil cups are full," begged Sylvia, as
they worked successfully through a little swell and wash raised by a
passing steamer. "I think the engine is getting too much, judging by
the odour of the exhaust. If they're more than half empty screw down
the feed a bit."
"Aye, aye, captain!" came the nautical return, and presently Alice, who
had inspected the engine, carried in a forward compartment, reported
that she had refilled the cups, and adjusted them so they would not