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Dorothy Dale At Glenwood School

<h3> CHAPTER II </h3> <h4> THE FIRE BIRD </h4> Outside sounded the strident "honk-honk" of an automobile horn, followed by a series of explosions, like a Gatling gun in full operation, as Ned cut out the muffler, threw off the clutch, and brought the machine to a stop at the door. More "honk-honks" called Dorothy out to welcome her cousins, and presently Ned and Nat, and Dorothy and Tavia were chatting merrily on the porch, as the big machine puffed and "gasped" after its long run from North Birchland to Dalton. "We will go right off," insisted Dorothy, "so as to get all the ride we can, it is such a beautiful day. I only have to grab up the lunch basket, and Tavia is all ready—has been waiting in fact," as Tavia readjusted her "sailor," and endeavored to look spick and span, as she had looked before the series of embraces and other disturbing activities upset her rather perishable toilette—nothing wrinkles like freshly-ironed gingham. "Just a drink of cold water, lady," begged Ned, "before we start again. My throat is macadamized, my eyes are veritable kaleidoscopes, and I feel like a mummy generally." "Why, of course," apologized Dorothy, "you must want a rest after that long dusty ride. Come into the sitting room, and we will try to refresh you." "Just plain water, please," insisted Ned, "and then we will start off." Tavia lost no time in bringing a pail of fresh water—Nat doing the bringing, while Tavia smiled approval and encouragement; it is a matter of such importance to carry the pail just so, when one really wants a perfectly fresh drink and not a glass of bubbles, and Nat was seemingly so anxious to learn all about well water—all that Tavia could tell him. "Come on," called Ned, impatiently from the side window. "We want the water in time to get away before nightfall. Must be lovely to go fishing for water in a pail like Simple Simon. Nat, you can talk to Tavia indefinitely after we have slaked our 'Fire-Bird' thirst." Tavia blushed prettily at the good-natured rebuke, and Dorothy playfully shook her finger at the tardy one, who seemed to have forgotten all about Ned wishing a drink. Finally the boys were satisfied that Dalton wells did justice to their reputation, and so the "Fire-Bird" was made ready for the day's run. "I am so glad," commented Dorothy, "that Joe and Roger are not around, it would be hard to go off and leave them." "Plenty of time for little boys," remarked Nat, turning on the gasoline, then shoving the spark lever over, all ready to crank up. Tavia had taken her place in front, as Nat was to drive the car, while Dorothy was on the leather cushions in the tonneau, where Ned would interest her with talk of school and other topics which the two cousins held in common. Presently Nat cranked up, swung himself into the car and the Fire-Bird "grunted off" lazy enough at first, but soon increasing to a swift run through the streets of Dalton. "Isn't it splendid!" Tavia could not refrain from exclaiming enthusiastically. "Yes," answered Nat, "but I believe there is something in swift motion that unbalances human equilibrium. The madness of motoring would make a study. Dorothy would be proud of me could she hear me talk so learnedly," he said, smiling at his own seriousness, "but I do really believe half of the unaccountable accidents might be traced to the speed-madness." "It does feel dreadfully reckless," said Tavia, realizing something of the power of speed, and taking off her sailor hat before the straw piece made away on its own account. "I think it would be just like flying to be in a real race." "Not for mine," answered the practical Nat. "I like some kinds of a good time, but I have too much regard for the insurance company that saw fit to give me their 'promise to pay,' to trust my bones to the intelligence of a machine let loose. There is something so uncanny about a broken neck." A toot of the horn warned passersby that the Fire-Bird was about to make a turn. Tavia bowed to those on the walk. Nat touched his cap. "Who's the pretty one?" he asked, looking back, just a bit rudely, at Tavia's friends. "Alice MacAllister, the nicest girl in Dalton, except—" "Tavia Travers," finished Nat, politely. "Well, she does look nice. Better get up a lawn party or something and invite her, and incidentally ask Nat White." Dorothy leaned forward to whisper to Tavia that Alice was going out Dighton way to play tennis, that Alice had told her she expected to win a trophy and this was the game to decide the series. Alice certainly looked capable of winning most anything, she was such an athletic girl, the kind called "tailor made," without being coarse or mannish. Then the Fire-Bird flew on. Out over the hill that hid Dalton from its pretty suburbs, and then down into the glen that nestled so cozily in its fringe of pines and cedars. Nat slackened speed to allow the party full enjoyment of the shady road, and this gave all an opportunity of entering into lively conversation. The boys wanted to know all about the mysterious man Anderson, who had been lodged in jail. As Dorothy and Tavia had played rather a conspicuous part in the man's capture, and all this had happened since the girls had been out to the Cedars, on their visit, naturally Ned and Nat were interested in the sensational news. "I'm glad he's safe out of your reach, Doro," said Ned, "for you never seemed to know when or where he would turn up." "Yes," put in Tavia, "Doro has actually gained flesh since we landed him. He was such a nuisance. Had no regard for persons or places." "And how about the news from India?" asked Ned. "I suppose the major will sell out in Dalton and move to better accommodations now. Not but what Dalton is a first-rate place," seeing the look of reproach on Dorothy's face at the idea of anyone uttering a word against her beloved town, "but you know there are little conveniences in other places, postmen for instance, and well—something called society, you know." "We have no thought of going away," answered Dorothy. "Father says the money is just enough to make us comfortable and there is plenty of comfort to be bought in Dalton." "And some given away," ventured Nat, with an arch glance at Tavia. "Which way shall we go?" asked Nat, as a forking of the road made a choice necessary. "Through the glen," suggested Dorothy, "there is such a pretty spot there where we can lunch." "Which spot?" asked Tavia, "I thought this was all road with deep gutters at the side, running down to the river over the hill." "I am quite sure this is the road father took us out to picnic on," said Dorothy with some hesitation. "Well, maybe," said Tavia, "but I think this is the old river road. It seems to me I have been out this way before, and never even found a place to gather wild flowers, all road and gutters, then a big bank to the river." "Let's try it anyhow," decided Nat. "It looks nice and shady." So the turn was made to the left, and presently another turn rounded, then another, until both Tavia and Dorothy lost all sense of the location. "We will wind up somewhere," declared Nat, when the girls protested they would be lost if the machine were not turned around, and brought back to the river road. "This is such a tangle of a place," insisted Dorothy, "and we really might not meet a person to direct us." "Then we will keep right on, and run into the next state," joked Nat, to whom being lost was fun, and having an adventure the best part of a ride. For some time the Fire-Bird flew along, the beautiful August day adding a wonderful charm to the tender shade of the oaks that lined the road, and through which just enough sunshine peeped to temper the balmy shadows. "I am hungry. It must be lunch time," said Dorothy, as they reached a pretty spot, "let's stop here and eat." "Let's," agreed Nat, slowing up the machine. "What do you suppose this road is for?" asked Ned, as neither the rumble of a wagon wheel nor any other sound broke the stillness that surrounded the party. "For instance," suggested Tavia. "Or for maps," said Ned. "For automobile parties," declared Dorothy. "For yours truly," finished Nat, stretching himself on the soft sod, that came down to the road as beautifully as if it had been made to order on a well-kept terrace. The girls soon had the lunch cloth spread and the basket was then produced—or rather its contents were brought forth. "Yum, yum," exclaimed Nat, smacking his lips as Dorothy began placing the eatables on the cloth. "Oh, but water," sighed Tavia. "We were to get some as we came in the woods. There is a fine spring there." "Two miles back," announced Nat. "But there must be one near here," declared Tavia, "for there are forget-me-nots in this grass." "Is that a sign of water?" asked Ned. "Positive—sure sign," replied Tavia. "Let's hunt for the spring." "Too early," answered Nat, "against the game laws. Can't hunt for two whole months yet. Worse luck." "Well, look for the spring then," Tavia corrected herself. "I fancy I smell watercress—" "Well, of all the fanciers,—first bluebells mean spring water, then gasoline from our own tank smells like watercress. Now, Octavia Travers, I'll go you," said Nat. "Come and find spring water, bunches of watercress and a salt spring to go with the cress, or you will—walk home." Tavia answered the challenge by skipping along through the grassy track, with Nat dragging lazily along at her heels. "Don't get lost," cautioned Dorothy. "And don't expect us to watch this food all afternoon," said Ned, as the two disappeared over a bank on the "still hunt" for water and perhaps watercress. "Tavia knows everything that grows," remarked Dorothy to her cousin, "I think it is so interesting to have a practical knowledge of nature." "And quite convenient when it comes to lemonade with water," answered the boy. "It's queer Nat is like that too. He always knows things about things when things are shy for a feed. Likely he'll bring back a small-sized patch of the vegetable kingdom." Meanwhile the explorers were making discoveries at every glade. "There," called Tavia, triumphantly, "that's a spring. But the announcement came a second too late to save Nat from a foot bath. "So I have noticed," he declared, trying to shake some of the cold water out of his low cut shoes. "Oh, that's too bad," Tavia managed to say, although her joy at finding the spring made any regret at the method of its discovery quite out of the question. Being careful of her own footing she made her way along, until the stone basin at the spring source came into view. "Didn't I tell you?" she shouted. "And there is the watercress!" She was on her knees now, leaning over like the goddess who saw her face reflected in the water. Tavia knew the peculiarities of a spring, and knew how to avoid the common penalty of wet feet when getting either cress or a drink "by hand." "Let me," asked Nat, gallantly, as he saw her stooping over the brink. "I do want some of the cress," she said. "So do I," declared the knight. But alas; as he stepped to the brink he went down—down—down— "Help!" he shouted, merrily, in spite of the second foot bath within a few minutes. But Nat kept on sinking, until what seemed like a joke soon assumed a serious aspect. "Give us a hand," he called to Tavia. "I must have struck quick-sand." Tavia ran to the side of the pool where the boy was imbedded. He had jumped right in, instead of feeling his way as Tavia had, to make sure of his ground. "Take my hand," said the girl anxiously, but the effort necessary in reaching toward her only served to make the unfortunate youth sink farther down. "I guess you'll have to go for help," he admitted finally, the danger of the situation forcing itself upon him. "But suppose you should go under while I am gone?" faltered Tavia. "Just pull that tree branch over to me," said Nat, "and I'll cling to that. This must be a glue spring. My, but it has a grip! There goes my shoe." "I'll run for Ned," cried Tavia, after she had given the boy in the pool a hold on the tree branch, and then she shot across the fields like a deer, leaving Nat to "say his prayers," as he described the situation. It seemed a long time to the imprisoned boy, but as a matter of fact, Tavia was back very soon with "reinforcements." Besides Dorothy and Ned, there came to the rescue a woman, who just happened by and heard of the danger. She knew the spring, and, depositing her basket of eggs in a safe place, pulled a fence rail from its post, and with Ned holding one end hurried on to the spring. By this time Nat was almost exhausted, for though it was an August day, standing to the waist in cold spring water was not an enjoyable position. "I found the spring," he tried to joke, as the others came up to him. "So we see," drawled Ned. "Here," called the strange woman, who evidently knew exactly what to do. "Young man, you take this end of the rail to the other side. I'll hold my end here, and the boy can pull out across it." Dorothy and Tavia looked on anxiously. They had heard of persons being swallowed up in quick-sands. Might not this be such a danger? The pool was uncomfortably wide just where Nat chose to try its depth, so that it was difficult to span it with the fence rail. "Easy now," called the little woman in the big sunbonnet. "Take hold first, then draw yourself up." Nat was only too anxious to do as he was told. It did seem so good to have something solid within reach once more. But tug as he would, he could not extricate his feet. "Guess some Chinaman has a hold of me," he said, trying to make the best of his predicament. "Wait a minute," called the farm woman. "There, now, you take the rail to the top of the spring and get down on it. Then you (to Nat) swing right up on it—now there, you've got it! Hold tight. Come here young girls. Quick! Pull! Pull! Altogether! There you are!" and, at that moment, a very muddy form was dragged from the spring. Nat was on dry land again. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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