The Nowadays Girls in the Adirondacks or, The deserted bungalow on Saranac Lake
feed too much lubricant to the cylinders.
Then she filled a tiny wash basin in the cabin, and washed her hands
with violet-scented soap.
"I can't bear the smell of oil when I'm going to eat," she said, in
explanation.
"But you're not going to eat right away, my dear," said Sylvia. "We
aren't going to have lunch until we get to Osprey Island, and that
won't be until noon." For they had gone in rather a round-about way,
passing on the far side of Big Island to make the trip seem more worth
while.
"Oh, well, I'm ready for lunch whenever it's ready for me," Alice said,
as she pushed back the skin from the half-moons on her shapely fingers,
thus manicuring them, though they seldom needed it.
The girls took turns at the wheel, for each one was experienced in
this. The _Clytie_ was a perfect boat, and answered her helm well.
"It would have been nice if Natalie and her husband had come along,"
said Rose. "I do enjoy her so much."
"He's nice, too," added Alice.
"Of course."
"But it's nice to be by ourselves, once in a while," suggested Sylvia.
"I wonder how we are living up to our canons, girls?" she asked.
"You mean--up-to-dateness?" questioned Hazel.
"Exactly."
"Well, I think we can't be found fault with," was the opinion of Hazel.
"There is certainly nothing slow about this!"
"Oh, I didn't mean it that way," said Sylvia, hastily. "Speed isn't
everything."
"It is when one is motoring or boating," declared Hazel.
"A pity we couldn't run our cars up here," put in Alice, for there were
automobiles in the family of each of our friends--more than one in some
cases--and the girls were expert drivers.
"This is no place for cars," affirmed Sylvia. "Perhaps on our outing
next season we may go where we can use them."
"Or to some place where we can have a motor boat of our own," put in
Alice. "Wouldn't that be just lovely? To have a craft of our own, and
go on a long cruise!"
"It would," assented Rose. "But this is very nice, and remember that
this is our first outing. Do you intend to do this every year, Sylvia?"
she continued.
"If we can, yes. Of course we can't tell what new friends and
associations we may meet with when we start in at the different
colleges this fall, but I think we shall be able to keep to our
original plan, and have a 'get-together' session every summer to talk
over nowadays matters, and take our part in them."
"Bravo!" cried Hazel. "No new college friendship shall lure me away
from this, my first love--or, rather, my three best loves," and she
pointed her finger in turn at each of her chums.
"Is Saranac Lake like this?" asked Rose, and immediately she blushed.
"Oh, look at her!" cried Alice, tantalisingly. "She can't stop thinking
of Roy even now."
"I don't want to," answered Rose, more coolly than one would think from
the way she looked.
"Good!" Sylvia complimented her. "Dear Roy! I do hope he is making
progress. I ought to get a letter or telegram to-day. I expect it when
we get back."
"There are three Saranac Lakes," said Hazel, who had apparently been
"reading-up" on the subject. "They are Upper, Middle and Lower. But
none of them, at least to look at on the map, is as large as this one,
though Upper Saranac has a very long shore line, because it is so
cut up and twisted. There is about forty miles of shore line here at
Raquette."
"This lake suits me," murmured Alice, in lazy comfort.
"Oh, but I'm sure we'll find Saranac lovely," Hazel went on. "It's
about fifty miles from here, and they say there are more than sixty
other lakes and ponds which can be reached by short canoe trips from
Saranac, that is, the upper lake, which, of the three, is the one
nearest us."
"It must be pretty wet there," ventured Sylvia.
"It is, more water than land. I wish we could take the _Clytie_ up
there, but I don't suppose we can. Roy would appreciate this."
"No, it's hardly feasible. We couldn't carry her over land," Sylvia
said.
"Just where is Roy?" asked Hazel.
"At the Loneberg Camp, not far from Saranac Inn. Oh, I am so anxious to
see him," his sister went on, "and yet I don't want to get there too
soon, for if he is on the verge of recovery the doctor said it might
give him a setback to have the sudden joyful surprise of seeing us
girls."
"Yes, we're beautiful enough, collectively, if not individually, to
make a well youth faint, to say nothing of an invalid," declared Alice,
with dry humour.
"Well, let's enjoy life while we may," suggested Sylvia. "Poor Roy!"
and she sighed. "I hope he is having a good time."
But, had she only known it, Roy was having anything but a pleasant time
just then. He was not at all himself.
Osprey Island was reached in due season, and finding a secluded spot,
the girls moored their boat, went ashore and had lunch. Tea was made
over the alcohol stove on board, and they sat about in the shadowy
woods in delightful picnic fashion.
"Let's take a run over to Indian Point," suggested Hazel, when the
lunch was over, and they were thinking of starting back toward the
hotel.
"Shall we have time?" asked Sylvia, with a glance at the sun, which was
already well down in the west.
"Oh, it's only about a mile from here," pleaded Hazel, pointing off
to the west toward a body of land extending out into the lake, Indian
Point being the name given it.
"Well, all right," assented Sylvia. "We can make a quick run back. Come
on, let's start."
They went ashore at Indian Point, but they lingered longer than they
thought, for the sun was in a glory of red, golden, purple and violet
clouds when they went down to where they had left the boat.
"It will be quite dark when we get back," said Sylvia, "and we have to
dress for dinner and the dance."
"And I'm not going to miss that dance for _anything_!" declared Alice.
"That tall fellow has a new step in the fox trot that is simply
delightful. Let's hurry."
But that was easier said than done, for when Sylvia stepped into the
craft, and confidently shoved over the self-starter, there was only a
groaning protest and the motor did not respond.
"Oh, I do hope we don't have to start by hand!" sighed Alice. "It is
such a heavy engine."
"Well, it looks as though we should," said Sylvia, grimly, when, after
several trials, the motor still refused to start. Clearly, or, rather,
unclearly, something was wrong. It was not a very cheerful prospect. In
fact it was most dismal, with night coming on, the girls some distance
from their hotel, alone and with a "cranky," not to say unstartable,
motor boat.
CHAPTER XV
A LONELY NIGHT
"Can't you make it work?" asked Hazel, when Sylvia had spent some time
over the self-starter.
"I can't," was the answer, and Sylvia tried to keep from her voice any
trace of anxiety or peevishness. But really she was tired and nervous.
"Let me try," suggested Alice, who was quite strong. "If I can't make
the starter work I can turn the flywheel over by hand."
The self-starter operated on a storage battery, something like the
mechanism of an automobile, but not as easily. But while the starter
itself whirred around, the gears meshing in those of the flywheel with
which it was connected by a jack shaft, there was no response in the
motor itself.
"There doesn't seem to be a spark," said Sylvia, as she watched the
effect of Alice's operations.
"Yes, there's a spark all right," declared Rose, who had her eyes on
one of the patent spark plugs that had an upper chamber in which an
auxiliary jump spark could be seen leaping from one platinum point to
the other. "The spark is there, but it doesn't seem to fire the charge
in the cylinder. Maybe there's no gasoline."
"Oh, yes, there is. I tested the tank only a few minutes ago," Sylvia
said.
"Perhaps it's the carburetor," suggested Hazel, after a pause.
"Don't you dare say that!" cried Rose. "Once you start to change that
adjustment it's all up with us. We'll be here for the night."
"Don't!" begged Baby, with an apprehensive glance at the now
fast-darkening woods. They were on a lonely part of Indian Point.
"Oh, we'll get off somehow," Sylvia declared. "I wonder if there are
any men about on whom we could call for help. I hate to think of trying
to start the motor by hand."
"And that's what we'll have to do, soon," declared Alice. "The storage
battery is almost run down."
This was only too true, since they had used much of the energy in
trying to make the auxiliary motor of the self-starter do its work. And
without the main motor running no more electricity would be available
to recharge the storage cells.
"Well, here goes for a little gymnasium work," Alice said, rolling up
her sleeves.
"I'll see if there's a man, or, perhaps, some campers about,"
volunteered Sylvia, "then I'll come back and take my share."
Again and again Alice, in the rather cramped quarters in which the
motor was housed, tried to start it. But though she could disconnect
the self-starter gears, and turn over the flywheel, there was no
answering explosion even then.
"It's the ignition," declared Sylvia, who came back in the gathering
twilight to report that she could find no one to help in the
comparatively short distance she went away from the others.
"Maybe it will start on the batteries," suggested Hazel.
"We've tried that," declared Alice.
"Well, try again," urged Sylvia. "We must do something. This is a
terribly lonesome place, and I, for one, don't want to have to stay
here all night!"
"I should say not, most decidedly!" exclaimed Hazel. "I--I'll _swim_
back before I'll do that."
"Well, we certainly won't walk," said Rose, with determination. "We
_could_ manage to sleep aboard the _Clytie_!" she went on. "We could
take a stone for an anchor, and shove the boat out in the lake, away
from the shore."
"You seem to have it all thought out," commented Hazel. "Why away from
the shore?"
"Then no--er--no snakes could crawl aboard!"
"Don't!" begged Alice, looking up with grimy face and hands from her
labor over the motor. She wore gloves, but they did not much protect
her, as they were splitting at the seams.
"Oh, we'll get off some time," Sylvia said. "Here, let me have a try,
Alice."
She took her place at the wheel and worked hard and faithfully. But
though the motor coughed, sneezed and gave other evidences of senile
decay, there was no healthy "wuff!" of a genuine explosion.
"There! That sounded like something!" cried Rose, suddenly, following a
continued whirling about of the flywheel on the part of Sylvia.
"What sounded like something?" demanded Hazel.
"As if one of the cylinders had voted to go to work. Let me relieve
you, Sylvia."
"No, if there's a hopeful sign, the best thing to do is to keep on
before the cylinder gets cold."
Again she worked at the motor, and then, to the joy of the girls, it
suddenly started off with a succession of heavy throbs as though it
had intended to do so all the while, but had waited until sufficiently
coaxed.
"There!" cried Sylvia, in relieved tones as she stretched out on a
cushioned locker to ease the pain in her back. "Let her run now until
she gets good and warm before throwing in the clutch."
"What was the matter?" asked Rose.
"Don't ask me, my dear. I think it was the timer, but I don't want to
make any rash assertions for fear some other part of the mechanism will
feel slighted and refuse to work until its claims have been recognised.
So don't ask me."
"But it's working now!" Rose cried. "We'll get back in time for----"
"The dance!" finished Alice. "Shall I throw in the clutch now, Sylvia?"
"Yes, we'll take a chance."
There was a grinding, groaning and squealing sound as the clutch