The Nowadays Girls in the Adirondacks or, The deserted bungalow on Saranac Lake
and she was just then engaged in the process of shuffling her
stockinged feet along a strip of carpet in the middle of the tent.
"It was the only way to bring back the circulation and get them warm,"
she explained afterward.
"The hesitation? It's a onestep!" declared Hazel, as she peered from
their tent into the lighted and partly-open one where the boys were
engaged in some mysterious rite.
"Yes, that's what they're doing," she continued, peering over Sylvia's
shoulder. "I wonder which one has my shoes?"
"As if it made any difference," mocked Alice.
"Doesn't it make a difference with whom one dances?" asked Hazel.
"If you call that a dance!" said Alice.
"It is one--by proxy," suggested Sylvia. "Oh, the silly boys!"
The Knight of the Overturned Canoe and his chums had offered to dry
the water-soaked shoes of their guests. And now the lads were holding
the footwear on their hands, over the blaze of their cooking-tent oil
stove, and to vary the proceeding, I suppose, now and then one of them
would glide off, whistling some merry air, meanwhile waving aloft his
hands (on which were the shoes) in a sort of syncopated dance rhythm.
"Well, they are trying to be cheerful," said Mrs. Brownley, as she came
to have a peep.
"The more credit to them, considering what company they have on their
hands," said Hazel.
"Nothing on their hands but shoes," said Alice, laughing.
"Besides, they were very glad to meet us," added Rose.
"They certainly are very nice boys," declared Sylvia. "And, oh, I am so
glad they found us! Think of what we would have done if we had had to
stay in the woods all night!"
"I never would have stayed," declared Alice. "I simply would have
expired then and there."
"Then it certainly is a good thing the boys found us," Mrs. Brownley
remarked. "Now, girls, I don't want to dictate to you, but really, I
think you ought to get to bed. We are all cold and damp, and if we get
off some of our wet things, and crawl in between the blankets, it may
prevent us from taking cold. The sheets are not at all clammy," she
went on, as she turned back the covers of her cot, and felt of the
linen. "I must say those boys are clever housekeepers! I would not have
believed it."
"Which is praise, indeed, even if it is not from--Oh, I never can think
of his name!" cried Alice.
"Sir Hubert Stanley?" queried Rose.
"Yes, that's the one. And so you think the boys--I'm going to call them
our boys," went on Alice, "are good housekeepers, Aunt Theodora?"
"Very good indeed--for boys," and she thus qualified it.
"Well, I think we'll take your advice, at any rate," said Sylvia. "I'm
beginning to feel chilly."
"The boys have stopped their shoe-dance," reported Rose. "Oh! and one
of them is coming this way!" she cried, as she scurried away from the
tent-flap, for the girls, as well as Mrs. Brownley, were not in a
presentable condition.
However, there was no cause for alarm, for when still at a distance
from the tent, Bert Young called out:
"I say, wouldn't you like an oil stove in there, to dry yourselves out?"
"Indeed we would," answered Mrs. Brownley. "Please bring it, unlighted,
and leave it outside the tent. We'll get it."
"Sounds like an order for fried oysters," commented Alice.
"Right-O!" came the reply, and a little later a modern oil stove was
glowing in the girls' tent. Its warmth was grateful, and they hung some
of their garments on chairs near it before getting into the cots.
They did not go to sleep at once--it would have been a physical
impossibility under the circumstances--so they talked, while Mrs.
Brownley kept one eye on the stove, fearing it might smoke or explode,
so she said.
But it was a very well-behaved stove, and, when the tent was
comfortably warmed, the flame was turned out, and the wayfarers tried
to get a little rest.
It cannot be said that Sylvia or any of her chums passed a restful
or comfortable night. They were given the best of the young men's
hospitality, but one cannot be wet through in the woods on a lost
trail, torn by anxiety regarding a missing loved one, be anxious about
those of a party from whom one is separated, and have pleasant dreams.
It is too much to expect.
But the night finally passed, and with it the rain. The sun came up
warm, with a promise of soon drying the woods, and after breakfast
the party of young men prepared to accompany their guests back to the
Russman bungalow. The camp of Felton and his chums, in the locality
where the girls found them, had been planned long before they met at
the dance, but neither party was aware of the other's intention.
"But it was the luckiest thing in the world," declared Felton, "that
you stopped and called when you did. Look," and he showed Sylvia how
the trail they were on when they had come to a halt led dangerously
near a high cliff. Sylvia shuddered when she saw it.
"When we head back for the bungalow, can't we go by way of Bald
Mountain?" asked Sylvia, as they were about to start. "It is barely
possible that my poor brother may be there."
"It is a little longer way," Felton explained, "but of course we can
use that route."
"And we may meet some of the guides, or others on the way," put in
Rose, "who will give us good news."
"Perhaps," agreed Alice.
The girls were in better spirits now, though the strain was showing on
Sylvia. However, she kept up bravely, and Rose, too, who had her own
grief, put it aside to comfort Roy's sister.
They tramped through the woods, now glorious with sunshine. Finally
Bald Mountain loomed before them. They must cross it to get on the
trail that led to the Russman bungalow.
Sylvia and Felton were in the lead, the girl pressing on eagerly,
and both of them, as well as every other member of the party, looked
closely for any signs of the missing one. Occasionally they would
stop and shout, but they neither saw nor heard aught of the other
seekers--the guides or the Russman party.
It was near the top of Bald Mountain, when Sylvia, who was a few
steps in advance, passed around a turn in the trail. Before her was
an overhanging stone, forming a sort of niche in the side of the
shaling rock of which the hill was formed. A huddled heap in the niche
attracted her attention.
She caught her breath sharply, and grasped the arm of her companion.
"Look! Look!" Sylvia whispered.
"It's--it's a man," answered Felton. "Can it be----"
"It's Roy! It's my brother!" Sylvia cried aloud. "I've found him!"
CHAPTER XXXV
RECOVERY
Sylvia was so overcome for the moment, not knowing what might be her
further discovery, that she trembled violently, and swayed as though
about to fall. Felton put out his arms to catch her, but she fought
back the weakness and smiled faintly at him.
"I--I am all right," she assured him.
"Really?" he asked. Mrs. Brownley came hurrying up.
"What is it?" she asked.
"We--we have found him," whispered Sylvia. "But I am afraid, oh, I am
so afraid----"
She did not finish, but they all knew what she meant.
Felton said not a word. He walked steadily up to the huddled figure
lying under the ledge of rock. The sun was slanting into the niche.
Sylvia forced herself to follow him, and watched, as if fascinated,
while her Knight leaned over the figure of her brother. Felton
touched Roy with a tender hand, and then, after a moment--a moment of
suspense--fraught with an agony that made it seem a year, he cried out:
"He's all right! He's alive--and sleeping!"
A silent prayer of thankfulness welled up, not only in the heart of
Sylvia, but in the hearts of all her friends.
As they gathered around, Sylvia kneeling on the hard, stone floor of
the niche beside her brother, he opened his eyes. And it needed but a
glance to show that reason was again on her throne. He looked weak and
emaciated and showed the effects of the terrible sufferings through
which he had passed, but his eyes no longer glowed with the fire of
delirium.
Roy sat up, gazed about him, but did not seem at all surprised at his
condition or location--that is, for a moment. He looked at Sylvia
recognisingly, and spoke coolly but in a weak voice:
"Hello, sis! How's everybody?"
Sylvia could not keep a tremor out of her voice as she answered:
"All well. And you, Roy?"
"Oh, I--I'm feeling better. I----" And then he seemed to feel the
strangeness of his condition, and realise that something unusual had
occurred. A great wonder showed in his fever-sunken eyes. He tried to
get up, but fell back weakly. Sylvia put her arm under him, as did
Felton, and they held Roy up together.
"Why--why--what has happened?" he stammered.
"Haven't you any recollection?" Sylvia asked.
"No. I--I----!"
He put his hand up to his head.
"Take it easy now, old man," said Felton, in a low voice. "Bring up
that vacuum bottle, Carroll," he ordered. "A sip of hot coffee will
warm you up, Roy."
Slowly Roy drank the hot beverage. The wonder in his questioning eyes
grew, as he looked at Sylvia and her friends. The party had brought
food with them, and Roy was given some sparingly, for it was evident
that he was half-starved. Gradually a little strength came back to him.
"But what does it all mean?" he asked. "How did I get here? How did you
get here, Sylvia? And Rose?"
He smiled at her, and put out his hand, which she clasped warmly.
"Look here, old man," said Felton. "I think explanations had better
be deferred until you are a little stronger. We'll get some sort of a
conveyance, and have you taken to the bungalow. You need a doctor, I'm
thinking."
"Yes," answered Roy, in puzzled fashion. "I seem to remember something
about a doctor. I know I went out in the woods to get something, but
I don't recall what it was. It rained, and I walked about a thousand
miles, I guess. Then I was very tired and I crawled in here. I must
have slept the clock around, for it was sunrise when I came here,
and it's sunrise again. But I can't understand it all. I feel a lot
better--up here," and he put his hand to his head.
"Oh, I am _so_ glad!" Sylvia murmured. She was sure her brother was now
in his right mind, though very weak.
It would be a problem to get him back to the bungalow, but the boys
helped solve that. They made a litter of some boughs and poles and
carried Roy to the nearest road. Then some one went for a waggon, the
bottom of which was filled with straw. Roy protested that he could sit
up, but Mrs. Brownley took charge of him, as she knew something of
nursing, and made him lie down.
"It's a pretty long drill to the Russman bungalow," suggested Felton.
"Now there's a pretty good sanitarium, with some doctors our family
know, not far from here. Why not take him there?"
"We will!" Sylvia quickly decided. Roy made no objection. He smiled up
into his sister's face, reached out for the hand of Rose again, and
seemed content.
The sanitarium of which Felton had spoken proved to be just the place
for Roy. He needed medical treatment of a different sort from that
his ailment had at first called for. The head doctor knew Sylvia's
"Knight," as she laughingly called him, and the physician promised to
give Roy every care and attention.
Sylvia and Rose arranged to stay at a boarding-house connected with the
institution, while Mrs. Brownley, Alice and Hazel would return to the
Russman bungalow, tell the good news, get their own belongings, as
well as those of Rose and Sylvia, and join them later.
Felton and his chums would pilot the party to the "deserted bungalow,"
as it was occasionally called, and then they would return to their own
camp.
These arrangements were carried out. On the way to the bungalow the