The Nowadays Girls in the Adirondacks or, The deserted bungalow on Saranac Lake
girls and their chaperon decided on.
As they learned that the drive would not take long, they decided to
defer it until after lunch, provided no messages were received in
the meanwhile from Roy or his companion, urging their visit before
afternoon.
"It will do us good to see a little of the lake," Sylvia said.
Upper Saranac Lake is about eight miles in length, and lies in a most
picturesque section, dotted with other lakes and ponds, on which
boating of many sorts, from canoeing and motoring to travel in small
steamers, may be enjoyed. There was good fishing in the lake, the girls
were told.
"But we can come back and enjoy that after we have seen Roy," decided
Rose, and the others agreed with her.
They spent the morning in going about the hotel and the grounds,
venturing out a little way on the lake. It was a region of beauty, and
Sylvia's plan of having the Nowadays Club take the first outing in the
Adirondacks was voted an unqualified success.
"Better wait," advised the recipient of the impromptu motion of thanks.
"The vacation isn't nearly over yet. You may all be sorry you came."
Luncheon time came, and as no word was received from Roy or his
companion, Sylvia took heart, and began to hope that her brother's
indisposition was but a passing one.
"But it's just as well we came up," she said to her chums. "We intended
to, anyhow, and a day or two sooner doesn't make any difference to us.
I did intend to make the trip by boat; for the canoeing is said to be
ideal from Raquette Lake on."
"And we could have very much enjoyed a few more days at the Antlers,"
Hazel said. "But it is just perfect here. And they are going to have
some dances, too. We'll talk about them, though, when we know your
brother is better, Sylvia," she hastened to add.
"Oh, you mustn't let my family affairs put a damper on you girls!" was
the quick comment. "I can't have that!"
"Perhaps Roy himself will be well enough to come over to some of the
affairs," Rose suggested. "He is a lovely dancer."
"Well, you ought to know," said Hazel, significantly.
"Now, Baby, don't get sarcastic!" murmured Alice, soothingly.
But Rose did not seem to mind.
The drive to Lake Clear was entrancing. It was along a road that led
through the forest, where the trees met overhead in an arch of green.
The forest was as inviting as the lake had been, and the girls planned,
later, to spend a day or so walking along the woodland trails.
"Roy is so fond of the woods," Sylvia remarked. "When he knew he was to
come up here he brightened up at once, though he was in the depths of
despair over losing that chemical secret."
"Do you think he'll ever discover it again?" asked Hazel.
"I hope so. The doctor said he might if he could have perfect rest."
"Well, I can't imagine a more perfect place to rest than up here,"
added Rose.
"It's a bit lonesome," said Alice, with a glance at the dense woods on
either side of the waggon trail.
"It wouldn't be with the right party," Hazel asserted.
"Meaning?" questioned Sylvia, with a glance at her chum.
"Any one you like, my dear."
"Any one or any ones," declared Rose. "I notice Hazel believes there is
at least more companionship in numbers."
"I'm not a bit worse than you, my dear."
"Don't let's spoil the day by even that sort of a discussion," Sylvia
begged.
Mrs. Brownley was in front with the driver, and the girls occupied the
other two seats of the big carriage.
It was the height of the Adirondack season, and they saw many evidences
of campers and other summer folk enjoying themselves. It was a
delightful drive, and when Lake Clear was reached they started off on a
little side road toward Loneberg Camp.
Though it was called a camp, it was really a hotel of the smaller kind,
with enough comforts and conveniences to make it an ideal place to
spend a vacation, if one liked solitude, for it was well off in the
woods.
There were not many guests, but some young chaps on the porch looked
hopeful as the four pretty girls drove up. There was a noticeable air
of life about them, as they "spruced-up."
"Mr. Montray and Mr. Pursell," repeated the clerk, when Mrs. Brownley
had made inquiries at the desk. "Yes, they were here, but they left
this morning."
"They left this morning!" echoed Sylvia, blankly surprised.
"Yes, miss. It seems Mr. Pursell was expecting friends, and when they
did not come he and his companion left about ten o'clock."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Sylvia. "And to think that we might have been here
if I hadn't--well, there's no use in lamenting, I suppose. They'll be
back shortly, I expect. We'll wait for them."
"No, miss, I don't think they'll be back to-day," the clerk said.
"Not back to-day! Where did they go?"
"I heard Mr. Pursell say they were going to visit friends who have a
bungalow on Lower Saranac. Your brother, is he, miss?"
"Yes."
"Well, your brother and his friend took some baggage with them, and I
should say they were going to stay a week."
"A week!" cried Sylvia. "They said nothing to me about it. Was it--was
it rather sudden?" she faltered.
"Yes, I should say it was," the clerk admitted.
"And my brother, was he better?"
"Well, miss, no, to tell you the truth. And I think his friend did not
want him to leave this place. But Mr. Pursell insisted, and they went
away. However, I have a letter for you. Mr. Montray left it to be given
to you if you came. Probably that will explain."
He handed Sylvia a sealed envelope. She took it with a heart that beat
faster than usual, and with a vague sense of worriment as if a calamity
might happen at any moment. Why had Roy left so suddenly?
Sylvia did not like it.
CHAPTER XXV
MAKING PLANS
While her girl friends looked on wonderingly, and while Mrs. Brownley
conversed in low tones with the hotel clerk, Sylvia tore open the
envelope that had been handed her. It bore her name, but she noted
in a flash that it was written in a scrawl, and not in the usually
neat, though character-indicating, chirography of Harry Montray. For
Sylvia had had several letters from him regarding her brother since
the trouble had come to him, and she had always admired the firm
handwriting of the young man who had proved such a friend to Roy.
"He must have written this in a hurry," was Sylvia's thought as she
took from the torn envelope the single sheet of paper.
And as she glanced at the signature, making sure, first of all, that it
was Harry's, the vague sense of foreboding increased.
Why had Roy left the camp-hotel so suddenly? Why had he not been
content to stay at Loneberg until he had recovered? Whence his sudden
determination to go some distance off and visit friends in a bungalow?
And who were the friends?
These were questions Sylvia hastily asked herself before she read the
letter so strangely left for her. But perhaps a perusal of it would
settle them. She read:
"DEAR MISS PURSELL.
"Please excuse the appearance of this note, as I have but a moment
to write it in, and must do it when Roy does not see me. I am
leaving it with the clerk, in the hope that you will soon come and
claim it.
"I regret to inform you that Roy, after showing every indication
of recovery (except for a few relapses of which I informed you),
has taken a sudden turn for the worse to-day--the day when he and
I expected you. He now insists on going to visit some friends who
have a bungalow on the eastern shore of Lower Saranac Lake. Nothing
I can say or do will get that notion out of his head. I do not know
what to do about it, save humour him.
"The name of these friends is Russman. Mr. Russman is a German
whom, it seems, Roy met while at college, and also later, after he
came to our firm. Mr. Russman is a chemist, and Roy has a notion
he can help him in recalling the details of the lost formula. I do
not know whether that is fancy or fact. At any rate, Roy insists on
going to see Mr. Russman, and, of course, I must go with him.
"We are starting at once, and will drive as best we can across
country. The roads are not good, and it would be much better to go
by water, up through Middle Saranac, but Roy will not listen to
that.
"I am writing this as he is packing. I will do the best I can for
him, but I think it will be wise, when you get this, to come to Mr.
Russman's bungalow as soon as you can."
There followed directions for reaching it.
"Roy only heard the other day," the letter went on, "of the
presence of Mr. Russman in this vicinity, and he at once became
more nervous than before. The forgetting of the chemical formula
seemed more than ever to prey on his mind. That is why I sent you
word that he was not as well as he had been. But perhaps this trip
may do him good, especially if it is followed by a visit from you
and your friends. If I may, without giving offence, I will say
that I think if Miss Rose Bancroft were to come Roy would greatly
appreciate it."
"I must show Rose that," Sylvia mentally resolved.
"So we are leaving at once," the missive concluded, "and I hope
you will follow as soon as you can. But if it is late when you get
this, you had better postpone your trip until to-morrow. Come by
water, if possible, and come straight to the bungalow. I will be
there with Roy.
"With the best of wishes, I remain,
"Yours faithfully,
"HARRY MONTRAY."
Sylvia drew a long breath as she finished the letter.
"Oh, I hope it isn't bad news!" exclaimed Hazel.
"Is there anything we can do?" asked Alice.
"Where is Roy?" inquired Rose, unable longer to keep back the question
that was fairly burning on her lips.
"At the Russman bungalow, on Lower Saranac," slowly answered Sylvia.
"Oh, dear! I don't know what to do!"
"Tell me all about it, and let me advise you," said Mrs. Brownley.
The letter was read to the chaperon and the girls, and Rose was given
her own special message. She received it, as may well be imagined,
blushingly.
"I will go to him!" she exclaimed. "Can we start now, Sylvia?"
"I'm afraid not," was the answer. "Harry--Mr. Montray--advises against
starting too late. And we certainly would hardly be able to take the
road through the wood at this hour."
"But what can we do?" asked Alice.
"I think we had better arrange to stay here for the night, or, better
perhaps," said Mrs. Brownley, "go back to Saranac Inn. We can start
from there in the morning, hire a motor boat if we can get one, and go
through Middle Saranac Lake to Lower, and then on to the bungalow."
There was a moment of silence while Sylvia and the girls considered
this plan. Then Sylvia said:
"I think that will be the best. It seems hard not to go to Roy at
once, but we must consider the best for all of us. It would not do to
get lost in the woods. So we will delay our start until morning."
"And shall we stay here to-night?" asked Rose.
"I think we had better go back to Saranac," suggested Mrs. Brownley.
"Probably there are not accommodations enough here for all of us, and
besides, if we go to Lower Saranac we may have to stay some time, and
will want our luggage."
"I'm sorry, but I couldn't put you all up," said the clerk of the
camp-hotel. "There are, of course, the rooms Mr. Pursell and Mr.
Montray had, but----"
"Thank you, we will go back to the Inn, and start from there in the
morning," Sylvia decided. "We have no baggage with us."
Thus it was decided, and the man with the horses was directed to get
ready for the return trip. Sylvia and the others of her party had tea
at the camp, and the clerk told them more details of the going away of