The Nowadays Girls in the Adirondacks or, The deserted bungalow on Saranac Lake
party met some of the guides who were searching for the lost girls and
Mrs. Brownley. The good news was soon spread, and again Old Sam blew
the tidings on his conch horn. The search had ended.
"But, oh! I wonder if Roy will remember that missing formula, that
means so much to him?" said Rose to Sylvia.
"It will be hard to say," was the answer. "We must not hope for too
much."
Roy's physical improvement was rapid, once he was given the proper care
and treatment at the sanitarium. The shock and exposure while wandering
in the woods had restored his mind. He progressed every hour, it
seemed, now that Sylvia and Rose were with him. Harry Montray was again
to take up his quarters with his friend, and soon the party of Nowadays
Girls was complete once more, with the addition of Roy and Harry.
As yet nothing had been said to Roy regarding the missing formula. His
memory came back to him, and he recalled everything up to the time of
rushing out of the bungalow in a delirium and off into the woods. What
happened to him there, neither he nor any one else could say.
It was apparent that he had wandered far. What he ate, if anything, no
one knew, but unconsciously he may have appropriated food from some
camp from which the owners were temporarily absent. And finally he had
wandered to Bald Mountain, and fallen into a natural sleep as the fever
left him. Luckily he had not been much out in the wet, though heavy
dews had drenched him.
Every day saw a further improvement in the invalid, until at last came
a time when he could go out into the woods with his sister and the
other girls.
And then, like a flash from a clear sky, there came to Roy that which
he had found and lost--the memory of the formula.
They were all walking in the beautiful woods one day when Roy suddenly
began sniffing the air, as though some new odour, different from that
of balsam and fir, came to him.
"What is it?" asked Sylvia.
"That smell--what is it?" he demanded, sharply.
"Oh, it's a menthol pencil I'm using," said Mrs. Brownley. "I have a
slight headache, and that nearly always cures it. It's simply menthol,
and perhaps----"
"That's it!" cried Roy, interrupting. "That's where the whole trouble
is! The menthol smell brings it all back to me--that and the name!
It's methane--that's what I need to use to complete the formula! It's
methane! That one element slipped from me, and I couldn't recall it
to save my life. The mention of menthol brought it back to me, though
methane isn't at all like menthol. It was just the smell and the
similarity of names."
"But what does it all mean?" asked Rose, looking bewildered.
"It means that I have rediscovered the chemical formula I lost!" Roy
cried. "It's complete now. I must write it down before I lose it again."
He scribbled some chemical symbols on a bit of white birch bark that
Sylvia hastily tore from a tree for him, and put it in his pocket. But
not before he had looked at it for a moment, murmuring:
"Ah, there you are! You shan't get away from me again! I have the lost
formula! Now I'll show 'em what's what!"
"Oh, Roy, I am so glad!" cried Sylvia, her eyes bright with
tears--tears of joy.
And Harry Montray rejoiced with his friend over the recovery of the
valuable discovery. He insisted on sending a wire to the firm in New
York, and Roy received a congratulatory telegram in response. It meant
much to the firm, and more perhaps to Roy in the way of honour and
wealth.
And now my little story is drawing to a close. Indeed there is really
nothing left to tell. For with Roy's physical and mental recovery,
which waxed more perfect every day, all the worriment of Sylvia and
Rose, not to mention that of their friends, passed away.
Then came happy times for the Nowadays Girls and the boys; for the
Knight of the Overturned Canoe and his chums came to see them quite
often. Indeed, after Roy was able to leave the sanitarium he and
Sylvia arranged to open a camp for themselves in the woods, and there
entertain their friends. And this was done.
Canoeing, boating, fishing, long tramps in the woods, pleasant evenings
about the camp fire, an occasional dance--all this made up the
remainder of a happy summer.
"Well, how did you like my Adirondack outing?" asked Sylvia of her
girl chums one day when, regretfully enough, they began to think of
returning to the city and preparing for their college careers.
"It was just perfectly all right, my dear!" said Rose, as she went down
the path toward the lake in response to a call from Roy, who was in a
canoe.
"Couldn't have been better!" declared Hazel.
"And if I were only sure we would have as scrumptious a time next
season I would be perfectly happy," sighed Alice.
"We shall go somewhere," Sylvia decided. "The Nowadays Club will live
for many years. But we have plenty of time to pick out another place
before next summer."
And those of you who care to follow the future fortunes, fun and frolic
of our friends may do so in the next volume of this series, to be
called: "The Nowadays Girls on Casco Bay; or, The Treasure Box of Orr's
Island."
The outing was over. By easy stages Sylvia and her chums were returning
from the Adirondacks. Once more they stopped at Saranac Inn. It was a
night of the dance. Sylvia sat out on a veranda in the shadows.
"May I have this next waltz?" a voice murmured at her ear.
"What is it?" she asked. It will be noticed that she did not ask "who."
"A canoe glide," was the laughing answer. "May I?"
"You may," said Sylvia.
And, as she joined her companions in the room where the dreamy music
called to willing feet, we will take leave of her and the other
Nowadays Girls.
THE END
* * * * *
THE NEW DOLLAR JUVENILES
WHY?
We are publishing the following new series of dollar Juveniles, hoping
that the public will support our efforts to give them _good stories_
attractively illustrated at a reasonable price. We trust that this
project will meet with general approval.
THE NOWADAYS GIRLS IN THE ADIRONDACKS;
or, THE DESERTED BUNGALOW ON SARANAC LAKE
By GERTRUDE CALVERT HALL
An outdoor story for girls
THE TRAIL BOYS OF THE PLAINS;
or, THE HUNT FOR THE BIG BUFFALO
By JAY WINTHROP ALLEN
A Western adventure story for boys
BETWEEN THE LINES IN BELGIUM
By FRANKLIN T. AMES
BETWEEN THE LINES IN FRANCE
By FRANKLIN T. AMES
Two boys' adventure stories of the great war
_For Sale at All Booksellers_
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY