The Campfire Girls of Roselawn; Or, a Strange Message from the Air Page 7

  CHAPTER VII

  THE CANOE TRIP

  Of course, Jessie Norwood and Amy Drew did not spend all their timeover the radio set in Jessie's room. At least, they did not do soafter the first two or three days.

  There was not much the girls cared to hear being broadcasted beforelate afternoon; so they soon got back to normal. Not being obliged toget off to school every day but Saturday and Sunday, had suddenly madeopportunity for many new interests.

  "Or, if they are not new," Amy said decisively, "we haven't worn themout."

  "Do you think we shall wear out the radio, honey?" asked Jessie,laughing.

  "I don't see how the air can be worn out. And the radio stuffcertainly comes through the air. Or do the Hertzian waves come throughthe ground, as some say?"

  "You will have to ask some scientist who has gone into the matter moredeeply than I have," Jessie said demurely. "But what is this revivedinterest that you want to take up?"

  "Canoe. Let's take a lunch and paddle away down to the end of thelake. There are just wonderful flowers there. And one of the girlssaid that her brothers were over by the abandoned Carter place andfound some wild strawberries."

  "M-mm! I love 'em," confessed Jessie.

  "Better than George Washington sundaes," agreed her chum. "Say wego?"

  "I'll run tell Momsy. She can play with my radio while we are gone,"and Jessie went downstairs to find her mother.

  "I tell you what," said Amy as, with their paddles, the girls wendedtheir way down to the little boathouse and landing. "Won't it be greatif they ever get pocket radios?"

  "Pocket radios!" exclaimed Jessie.

  "I mean what the man said in the magazine article we read in the firstplace. Don't you remember? About carrying some kind of a condensedreceiving set in one's pocket--a receiving and a broadcasting set,too."

  "Oh! But that is a dream."

  "I don't know," rejoined Amy, who had become a thorough radio convertby this time. "It is not so far in advance, perhaps. I see one man hasinvented an umbrella aerial-receiving thing--what-you-may-call-it."

  "An umbrella!" gasped Jessie.

  "Honest. He opens it and points the ferrule in the direction of thebroadcasting station he is tuned to. Then he connects the littleradio set, clamps on his head harness, and listens in."

  "It sounds almost impossible."

  "Of course, he doesn't get the sounds very loud. But he _hears_. Hecan go off in his automobile and take it all with him. Or out in aboat----Say, it would be great sport to have one in our canoe."

  "You be careful how you get into it yourself and never mind theradio," cried Jessie, as Amy displayed her usual carelessness inembarking.

  "I haven't got on a thing that water will hurt," declared the othergirl.

  "That's all right. But everything you have on can get wet. Do bestill. You are like an eel!" cried Jessie.

  "Don't!" rejoined Amy with a shudder. "I loathe eels. They are sosquirmy. One wound right around my arm once when I was fishing downthe lake, and I never have forgotten the slimy feel of it."

  Jessie laughed. "We won't catch eels to-day. I never thought aboutfishing, anyway. I want strawberries, if there are any down there."

  Lake Monenset was not a wide body of water. Burd Alling had said itwas only as wide as "two hoots and a holler." Burd had spent a fewweeks in the Tennessee Mountains once, and had brought back somerather queer expressions that the natives there use.

  Lake Monenset was several miles long. The head of it was in Roselawnat one side of the Norwood estate and almost touched the edge ofBonwit Boulevard. It was bordered by trees for almost its entirelength on both sides, and it was shaped like a enormous, elongatedcomma.

  The gardener at the Norwood estate and his helper looked after theboathouse and the canoes. The Norwood's was not the only small estatethat verged upon the lake, but like everything else about the Norwoodplace, its lake front was artistically adorned.

  There were rose hedges down here, too, and as the two girls pushed outfrom the landing the breath of summer air that followed them out uponthe lake was heavy with the scent of June roses.

  The girls were dressed in such boating costumes as gave them the veryfreest movement, and they both used the paddle skillfully. The roomycanoe, if not built for great speed, certainly was built for as muchcomfort as could be expected in such a craft.

  Jessie was in the bow and Amy at the stern. They quickly "got intostep," as Amy called it, and their paddles literally plied the lake asone. Faster and faster the canoe sped on and very soon they roundedthe wooded tongue of land that hid all the long length of the lowerend of the lake.

  "Dogtown is the only blot on the landscape," panted Amy, after awhile. "It stands there right where the brook empties into the lakeand--and it is unsightly. Whee!"

  "What are you panting for, Amy?" demanded her chum.

  "For breath, of course," rejoined Amy. "Whee! You are setting anawfully fast pace, Jess."

  "I believe you are getting over-fat, Amy," declared Jessie, solemnly.

  "Say not so! But I did eat an awfully big breakfast. The strawberrieswere so good! And the waffles!"

  "Yet you insisted on bringing a great shoe box of lunch," said herfriend.

  "Not a _great_ shoe box. Please! My own shoes came in it and I haven'tenormously big feet," complained Amy. "But we must slow down."

  "Just to let you admire Dogtown, I suppose?" said Jessie, laughing.

  "Well, it's a sight! I wonder what became of that freckle-faced youngone."

  "I wonder if she found her cousin," added Jessie.

  "That was a funny game; for that child to go hunting through theneighborhood after a girl. What was her name--Bertha?"

  "Yes. And I have been thinking since then, Amy, that we should haveasked little Henrietta some more questions."

  "Little Henrietta," murmured Amy. "How funny! She never could fillspecifications for such a name."

  "Never mind that," Jessie flung back over her shoulder, and stillbreathing easily as she set a slower stroke. "What I have beenthinking about is that other girl."

  "The lost girl, Bertha?"

  "No, no. Or, perhaps, yes, yes!" laughed Jessie. "But I mean that girlthe two women forced to go with them in the motor-car. You surelyremember, Amy."

  "Oh! The kidnaped girl. My! Yes, I should say I did remember her. Butwhat has that to do with little Henrietta? And they call her 'Hen,'"she added, chuckling.

  "I have been thinking that perhaps the girl Henrietta was looking forwas the girl we saw being carried away by those women."

  "Jess Norwood! Do you suppose so?"

  "I don't know whether I suppose so or not," laughed Jessie. "But Ithink if I ever see that child again I shall question her moreclosely."

  She said this without the first idea that little Henrietta wouldcross their way almost at once. The canoe touched the grassy bank atthe edge of the old Carter place at the far end of the lake justbefore noon. An end of the old house had been burned several yearsbefore, but the kitchen ell was still standing, with chimney complete.Picnic parties often used the ruin of the old house in which to sup.It was a shelter, at least.

  "I've got to eat. I've got to eat!" proclaimed Amy, the moment shedisembarked. "Actually, I am as hollow as Mockery."

  "Well, I never!" chuckled Jessie. "Your simile is remarkably apt. AndI feel that I might do justice to Alma's sandwiches, myself."

  "Where's the sun gone?" suddenly demanded Amy, looking up and thenturning around to look over the water.

  "Why! I didn't notice those clouds. It is going to shower, Amy, mydear."

  "It is going to thunder and lightning, too," and Amy looked a littledisturbed. "I confess that I do not like a thunderstorm."

  "Let us draw up the canoe and turn it over. Keep the inside of it dry.And we'll take the cushions up to the old house," added Jessie,briskly throwing the contents of the canoe out upon the bank.

  "Ugh! I don't fancy going into the house," said Amy.

  "Why no
t?"

  "The old place is kind of spooky."

  "Spooks have no teeth," chuckled Jessie. "I heard of a ghost once thatseemed to haunt a country house, but after all it was only an oldgentleman in a state of somnambulism who was hunting his falseteeth."

  "Don't make fun of spirits," Amy told her, sepulchrally.

  "Why not? I never saw a ghost."

  "That makes no difference. It doesn't prove there is none. How blackthose clouds are! O-oh! That was a sharp flash, Jessie, honey. Let'srun. I guess the haunts in the old Carter house can't be as bad asstanding out here in a thunder-and-lightning storm."

  "To say nothing of getting our lunch wet," chuckled Jessie, followingthe dark girl up the grassy path with her arms filled to overflowing.

  "Ah, dear me!" wailed Amy, hurrying ahead. "And those strawberries wecame for. I am afraid I shall not have enough to eat without them."

  The ruin of the Carter house stood upon a knoll, several great elmssheltering it. The dooryard was covered with a heavy sod and theancient flower beds had run wild with weeds.

  The place did have rather an eerie look. Most of the window panes werebroken and the steps and narrow porch before the kitchen door hadbroken away, leaving traps for careless feet.

  The thunder growled behind them. Amy quickened her steps. As she hadsaid, she shuddered at the tempest. What might be of a disturbingnature in the old farmhouse could not, she thought, be as fearsome asthe approaching tempest.