Betty Gordon at Mountain Camp by Alice B. Emerson

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"That locket," questioned Ida. "That pretty locket. It did fall out of
your bag in the shop, didn't it, Betty?"

"My goodness!" stammered Betty, "did you find it?"

"I picked it up," said Ida soberly. "Mrs. Staples would not let me run
after you with it. But she promised to give it to you when you came and
asked for it."

"She did? She never----"

Then Betty hesitated a moment. She remembered clearly just what had been
said in the little neighborhood shop when she and Bobby had called there
to get Bobby's blue over-blouse.

"It's a fact, I never asked her for it," she said slowly. "No, I never. I
just asked her if she had found anything, and she said 'No.'"

"She would! That would be like her!" cried Ida Bellethorne. "She is a
person who prides herself upon being exactly honest; and I guess that
means barely honest. Oh, Betty Gordon!"

"Well, now what's the matter?" asked Betty.

"Did--did you know you lost it in Mrs. Staples' shop?"

"No. I didn't know where I lost it. I only thought----"

"That I might have picked it up and said nothing about it?" demanded Ida
Bellethorne.

"Why Ida! I would not have hurt your feelings by saying anything about it
for the world," said Betty honestly. "That was why I didn't tell you. You
see, if you really had known nothing about the locket when I asked you,
all the time you would be afraid that I suspected you. Isn't that so?"

"You dear, good girl!" gasped Ida, dabbling her eyes with her
handkerchief. "And I didn't say anything because I thought you would think
I wanted a reward for returning it."

"So, you see, I couldn't speak of it. But now, of course, we'll get it
away from Mrs. Staples. I think she's horrid mean!"

Betty expressed her opinion of the shopwoman vigorously, but she put her
arms around the English girl at the same time and kissed her warmly.

"You're a dear!" repeated Ida.

"You're another!" cried Betty gaily. "Now come on! Maybe those boys will
eat up all the dinner, and I am so hungry!"

One of the men arrived from Cliffdale during dinner with the mail and the
information that another cold rain was falling and freezing to everything
it touched.

"The whole country about here will be one glare of ice in the morning,"
said Mr. Canary. "You young folks will have all the sledding you care for,
I fancy. I have seen the time when, after one of these ice storms, one
might coast from here to Midway Junction on the railroad, and that's a
matter of twenty miles."

"What a lark that would be," cried Tommy Tucker. "Some slide, eh, Bob?"

"How about walking back?" asked the other boy promptly, grinning.

Letters and papers were distributed. There was at least one letter for
everybody but Ida, and Betty squeezed her hand under the table in a
comforting way.

When they all retired from the table and gathered in groups in the big
living room where the log fire roared Uncle Dick beckoned Betty to him. He
put a letter from Mrs. Eustice into the girl's hand and at one glance she
"knew the worst."

"Oh Betty!" gasped Louise, "what's the matter?"

For Betty had emitted a squeal of despair. She shook the paper before
their eyes.

"Come on, Betty!" cried Bob. "Get it out--if it's a fishbone."

"It's all over!" wailed Betty. "Measles don't last as long as we thought
they did. Shadyside opens two days from to-morrow, and we have got to be
there. That's Monday. Oh, dear, dear, dear!"

"Say a couple more for me, Betty," growled Teddy Tucker. "I suppose
Salsette will open too. Back to Major Pater and others too murderous to
mention."

"And the Major's got it in for you Tucker twins," Bob reminded him
wickedly.

"That's Tom's fault," grumbled Teddy. "If he hadn't sprung that snowball
stunt--Oh, well! What's the use?"

"Life, Ted believes," said Louise, "is just one misfortune after another.
But I do hate to leave here just as we have got nicely settled. My
goodness! what's the matter with Ida? Something's happened to her, too."

Ida had sprung to her feet with one of the recently arrived New York
papers in her hand. Actually she was pale, and it was no wonder the
company stared at her when her cheeks were usually so ruddy.

"What is the matter, dear?" asked Mrs. Canary.

Betty went to the English girl at once and put an arm about her shoulders.

"Did you see something in the paper that frightened you, Ida?" she asked.

"It doesn't frighten me," replied the girl, with trembling lips. "See.
Read it. This time I am sure it is my aunt. See!"

Uncle Dick joined the group about the excited girl. Her color had come
back into her cheeks now and her eyes shone. She was usually so
self-contained and quiet that Mr. Gordon now thought perhaps they had not
really appreciated how much the hope of joining her aunt meant to Ida.

"Read it aloud, Betty," said her uncle quietly.

"Oh! Here's her name! It must be right this time!" cried Betty; and then
she obeyed her uncle's request:

"'The Toscanelli Opera Company, Salvatore Toscanelli manager,
which has made a very favorable impression among the music lovers
of the East and Middle West during the last few months, will sail
for Rio Janeiro on Sunday on the _San Salvador_ of the Blue Star
Line. The company has been augmented by the engagement of
several soloists, among them Madam Ida Bellethorne, the English
soprano, who has made many friends here during the past few
years.'"

"Day after to-morrow!" exclaimed Bobby, the first to speak. "Why! maybe if
you can go to New York you will see her, Ida."

"Day after to-morrow," repeated Ida, anxiously. "Can I get to New York by
that time? I--I have a little money----"

"Don't worry about the money, honey," Betty broke in. "You will have to
start early in the morning, won't she, Uncle Dick?"

"If she is to reach the steamer in time, yes," said the gentleman rather
doubtfully.

"Oh! if I don't get there what shall I do?" cried Ida. "Rio Janeiro, why,
that is in South America! It would cost hundreds of your dollars to pay my
passage there. I must get to Aunt Ida before she sails. I must!"

"Now, now!" put in Mrs. Canary soothingly. "Don't worry about it, child.
That will not help. We will get you to the train to-morrow----"

"If we can," interrupted her husband softly.

He beckoned Uncle Dick away and they went out through the hall to look at
the weather, leaving the young folks and Mrs. Canary to encourage the
English girl.

Outside the two men did not find much in the appearance of the weather to
encourage them. It was raining softly, for there was no wind; and it was
freezing as fast as it fell.

"And that old shack-a-bones I keep here during the winter isn't sharpened.
Ought to be, I know. But he isn't," grumbled Jonathan Canary.

"No use to think of snowshoes if it freezes, Jack," rejoined Mr. Gordon.
"It is too far to the railroad anyway. I doubt if these children get to
school on time."

"Telephone wires are down again. I just tried to get Cliffdale before
dinner. This is a wilderness up here, Dick."

"I am sorry for that young English girl," mused Mr. Gordon. "She is fairly
eaten up with the idea of getting in touch with her aunt. Good reason,
too. She has told me all about it. She carries a letter from her dead
father to the woman and he begged the girl to be sure to put it into his
sister's hands. Family troubles, Jack."

"Well, come on in. You're here without your hat. Want to get your death of
cold?" growled Mr. Canary.

The young folks did not dream at this time that nature was doing her best
to make it impossible for Ida Bellethorne to reach New York by Sunday
morning when the steamship _San Salvador_ would leave her dock. It was,
however, the general topic of conversation during the evening. When
bed-time came they went gaily to bed, not even Betty doubting the
feasibility of their getting to the train on the morrow.

Her uncle, however, put his head out of the door again when the others had
gone chamberward and seeing the shining, icy waste of the Overlook,
muttered with growing anxiety:

"Can it be done?"

CHAPTER XXIV

TWENTY MILES OF GRADE

Ida slept in the room with Betty and Bobby that night. Betty had confided
to her chum, as well as to Uncle Dick, the outcome of the mystery of her
locket. Because of Ida's information, Uncle Dick had assured his niece
they would recover the trinket.

"If Mrs. Staples is not a dishonest woman, she shades that character
pretty closely. There are people like that--people who think that a found
article is their own unless absolutely claimed by the victim of the loss.
A rather prejudiced brand of honesty to say the least."

The two Shadyside girls made much of Ida Bellethorne on this evening after
they had fore-gathered in the bedroom. Just think! her Aunt Ida might take
her to South America. Ida already had traveled by boat much farther than
even Betty had journeyed by train.

"Although I am not at all sure how my aunt will meet me," the English girl
said. "She was very angry with my father. She wasn't fair to him. She is
impulsive and proud, and maybe she will think no better of me. But I must
give her father's letter and see what comes of it."

The main difficulty was to get to New York in time to deliver the letter
before the _San Salvador_ sailed. When the girls awoke very early and saw
a sliver of moon shining low in the sky, they bounced up with glad if
muffled cries, believing that everything was all right. The storm had
ceased. And when they pushed up the window a little more to stick their
heads out they immediately discovered something else.

"Goodness me!" gasped Bobby. "It's one glare of ice--everything! And so-o
cold! Ugh!" and she shivered, bundled as she was in a blanket robe.

First Betty and then Ida had to investigate. The latter looked very
mournful.

"The horse can never travel to-day," she groaned. "You saw how he slipped
about in the soft snow the other day when they had him out. He is not shod
properly."

"If you only had Ida Bellethorne here!" cried Betty.

"But she is a long way off, and in the wrong direction. Why, none of us
could walk on this ice!"

"How about skating?" cried Bobby eagerly.

"Mr. Canary says it is all downhill--or mostly to the railroad station,"
Betty said. "I would be afraid to skate downhill."

They dressed quickly and hastened to find Uncle Dick. He had long been up
and had evidently canvassed the situation thoroughly. His face was very
grave when he met his niece and her friends.

"This is a bad lookout for our trip," he said. "I don't really see how any
of you will get to school on Monday, let alone Ida's reaching New York
to-morrow morning."

"Oh, Uncle Dick, don't say that!" cried Betty. "Is it positive that we
cannot ride or walk?"

"Walk twenty miles downhill on ice?" he exclaimed, "Does it seem
reasonable? We can neither ride nor walk; and surely we cannot swim or
fly!"

"We could fly if we had an aeroplane. Oh, dear!" sighed Bobby. "Why didn't
we think of that? And now the telephone wires are down."

But Betty was thoughtful. She only pinched Ida's arm and begged her to
keep up her courage--perhaps something would turn up. She disappeared then
and was absent from the house, cold as the morning was, until breakfast
time.

The whole party had gathered then, excited and voluble. It was not only
regarding Ida's need that they chattered so eagerly. In spite of the fun
they were having at Mountain Camp, the thought that Shadyside and Salsette
might begin classes before they could get there was, after all, rather
shocking.

"Measles is one thing," said Bob. "But being out of bounds when classes
really begin is another. The other fellows will learn some tricks that we
don't know."

"And somebody else may be put in our room, Betty!" wailed Bobby, as her
chum now appeared.

Betty was very rosy and full of something that was bound to spill over at
once. As soon as she had bidden Mr. and Mrs. Canary good morning she cried
to all:

"What do you think!"

"Just as little as possible," declared Tommy Tucker. "Thinking tires me
dreadfully."

"Behave, Tommy!" said Louise admonishingly.

"There's a big two-horse pung here. I found it in the barn. Like Mr.
Jaroth's. It has a deep box like his. And a tongue. It's like a
double-runner sled, Bob--you know. The front runners are independent of
the rear."

"I know what it is, Betty," said Bob, while the others stared at her.
"I've seen that pung."

"Your observations are correct, Miss Betty," said Mr. Canary, smiling at
the girl. "I own such a pung. But I do not own two horses to draw it. And
I am sorry to say that the horse I have got cannot stand on this ice."

"Gee!" exclaimed Teddy, "if we got old Bobsky started down that hill he'd
never stop till he got to the bottom. How far do you say it is to the
station, Mr. Canary?"

"It is quite twenty miles down grade. Of course there are several places
where the road is level--or was level before the snow fell. But once
started there would not be many places where you would have to get out and
push," and the gentleman laughed.

Betty's mind was fixed upon her argument. Her face still glowed and she
scarcely tasted her breakfast.

"I believe we can do it," she murmured.

"What under the sun do you mean, Betty?" asked Louise.

"I hope it is something nice we can do," said Libbie dreamily. "I looked
out the window and it is all like fairyland--isn't it, Timothy?"

"Uh-huh!" said Timothy Derby, his mouth rather full at the moment. "It is
the most beautiful sight I ever saw. Will you please pass me another
muffin?"

But Bob gave Betty his undivided attention. He asked:

"What do you believe we can do, Betty?"

"Make use of Mr. Canary's pung."

"Cricky! What will draw it? Where is the span of noble steeds to be found?
Old Bobsky would break his neck."

"One horse. One wonderful horse, Bob!" cried Betty clapping her hands
suddenly. "I am sure I'm right. Uncle Dick!"

"What do you mean, Betty?" cried Bobby, shaking her. "What horse?"

"Gravitation," announced Betty, her eyes shining. "That's his name."

"Great goodness!" gasped Bob. "I see a light. But Betty, how'd we steer
it?"

"The front runners are attached to the tongue. Tie ropes to the tongue and
steer it that way," Betty said, so eagerly that her words tumbled over
each other. "Can't we do it, Uncle Dick? We'll all pile into the pung,
with a lot of straw to keep us warm, and just slide down the hills to the
railroad station. What say?"

For a while there was a good deal said by all present. Mr. and Mrs. Canary
at first scouted the reasonableness of the idea. But Mr. Gordon, being an
engineer and, as Bob said, "up to all such problems," considered Betty's
suggestion carefully.

In the first place the need was serious. Especially for the much troubled
Ida. If she could not reach the dock on New York's water-front by eleven
o'clock the next morning, her aunt would doubtless sail on the _San
Salvador_, and then there was no knowing when the English girl would be
able to find her only living relative.

The party had ridden over the mountain road in coming to Mountain Camp,
and Uncle Dick remembered the course pretty well. Although it was a
continual grade, as one might say, it was an easy grade. And there were
few turns in the road.

Drifted with snow as it was, and that snow crusted, the idea of coasting
all the way to the railroad station did not seem so wild a thought. The
road was fenced for most of the way on both sides. And over those fences
the drifts rose smoothly, making almost a trough of the road.

"When you come to think of it, Jack," Uncle Dick said to Mr. Canary, "it
is not very different from our toboggan chute yonder. Only it is longer."

"A good bit longer," said Mr. Canary, shaking his head.

However, it was plain that the idea interested Uncle Dick. He hastened out
to look at the pung. Bob followed him, and they were gone half an hour or
more. When they returned Bob was grinning broadly.

"Get ready for the time of your lives, girls," he whispered to Betty and
Bobby. "The thing is going to work. You wait and see!"

Uncle Dick called them all into the living room and told them to pack at
once and prepare for a cold ride. There was plenty of time, for the train
they had to catch did not reach the station until noon.

"If our trip is successful--and it will be, I feel sure--it will not take
an hour to reach the station. But we shall give ourselves plenty of time.
Now off with you! I guess Mrs. Canary will be glad to see the last of us."

But their hostess denied this. The delight of having young people at the
lonely camp in the hills quite counterbalanced the disturbance they made.
But she bustled about somewhat anxiously, aiding the girls and the boys to
make ready for departure. The Canarys, being unused to roughing it, even
if they did live in the Big Woods, were much more afraid of the
possibility of an accident arising out of this scheme Betty had conceived
than was Uncle Dick.

A little after ten o'clock they all piled out of the bungalow with their
baggage. The two men working at the camp had filled the box of the pung
with straw and had drawn it out to the brow of the hill where the road
began. The tongue was raised at a slant, as high as it would go, and half
of it had been sawed off. Ropes were fastened from this stub of the tongue
to ringbolts on either side of the pung-box.

"It will take two of us to steer," said Uncle Dick, "and we must work
together. Get in here, Bob, and I'll show you how it works."

It worked easily. The girls and the baggage were piled into the pung. The
Tucker twins were each handed an iron-shod woodsman's peavey and were
shown how the speed of the pung might be retarded by dragging them in the
crust on either side.

"You boys are the brakes," sang out Uncle Dick, almost as excited as the
young people themselves. "When we shout for 'Brakes!' it is up to you
twins to do your part."

"We will, sir!" cried Tommy and Teddy in unison.

"And don't hang your arms or legs over the sides," advised Uncle Dick.
"Farewell, Jack! Take care of him, Mrs. Canary. And many, many thanks for
a jolly time."

The boys and girls chorused their gratitude to the owner of Mountain Camp
and his wife. The men behind gave the pung just the tiniest push. The
runners creaked over the ice, and the forward end pitched down the slope.
They had started.

And what a ride that was! It is not likely that any of them will ever
forget it. Yet, as it proved, the danger was slight. They coasted the
entire down-grade to the little railroad station where Fred Jaroth was
telegraph operator with scarcely more peril than as though they had been
riding behind the Jaroth horses.

But they were on the _qui vive_ all the time. Bobby declared her heart was
in her mouth so much that she could taste it.

There were places when the speed threatened disaster. But when Uncle Dick
shouted for "Brakes!" the twins broke through the crust with their peaveys
and the hook broke up the thick ice and dragged back on the pung so that
the latter was brought almost to a stop. The handles of the peaveys were
braced against the end staffs of the pung, and to keep them in position
did not exceed the twins' strength.

Once Ted's peavey was dragged from his hands; but he jumped out and
recovered it, and then, falling, slid flat on his back down the slippery
way until he overtook the slowly moving pung again amid the delighted
shouts of his chums.

Otherwise there were no casualties, and the pung flew past the Jaroth
house a little before eleven to the great amazement of the whole family,
who ran out to watch the coasting party.

"I don't know how Jonathan Canary will recover his pung," said Mr. Gordon
when they alighted on the level ground. "But I will leave it in Jaroth's
care, and when the winter breaks up, or before, it can be taken back to
Mountain Camp.

"Now how do you feel, young folks? All right? No bones broken?"

"It was delightful," they cried. But Ida added something to this. "I feel
rather--rather dazed, Mr. Gordon," she said. "But I am very thankful. And
I know whom I have most to thank."

"Who is that; my dear?" asked Uncle Dick smiling.

"Betty."

CHAPTER XXV

ON THE DECK OF THE SAN SALVADOR

Mr. Richard Gordon sent several telegrams before the train arrived, and
they were all of importance. One recovered Betty's locket, for, informed
of the circumstances by this telegram, the lawyer in Washington sent his
clerk to Mrs. Staples and showed her in a very few words that she was
coasting very close to the law by keeping the little platinum and diamond
locket.

"So," said Betty to Bobby, "if the lawyer gets it--and Uncle Dick says he
will--I can wear the locket to parties at the school."

"If Mrs. Eustice allows it," said her chum grimly. "You know, she's down
on jewelry. Remember how she got after Ada Nansen and Ruth Gladys Royal
for wearing so much junk?"

"My goodness!" giggled Betty, "what would she say to you if she heard you
use such an expression? Anyway, I am going to show her Uncle Dick's
present and ask her. I know the beautiful diamond earrings Doctor and Mrs.
Guerin sent me can't be worn till I grow up a bit. But my locket is just
right."

It was a noisy crowd that boarded the train; and it continued to be a
noisy crowd to the junction where it broke up. All the young folks would
have been glad to go with Uncle Dick and Ida Bellethorne to New York; but
he sent all but Betty and Bob on to school. They would reach the Shadyside
station soon after daybreak the next morning, and Mr. Gordon had
telegraphed ahead for the school authorities to be on the look-out for
them.

Betty and Bob, with Uncle Dick and the English girl, left the train at the
junction and boarded another for New York City in some confidence of
reaching their destination in good season.

The train, however, was late. It seemed merely to creep along for miles
and miles. Luckily they had secured berths, and while they slept the
delayed train did most of its creeping.

But in the morning they were dismayed to find that they were already two
hours late and that it would be impossible for the train to pick up those
two hours before reaching the Grand Central Terminal in New York City.

"Now, hold your horses, young people!" advised Mr. Gordon. "We are not
beaten yet. The _San Salvador_ does not leave her dock until eleven at the
earliest. It may be several hours later. I have wired to Miss Bellethorne
aboard the ship and in care of the Toscanelli Opera Company as well. I do
not know the hotel at which Miss Bellethorne has been staying."

"But, Uncle Dick!" cried Betty, who seemed to have thought of every chance
that might arise, "suppose Ida's aunt wants to take her along to Brazil?
Her passport----"

"Can be vised at the British consulate on Whitehall Street in a very few
minutes. I have examined Ida's passport, and there is no reason why there
should be any trouble over it at all. She is a minor, you see, and if her
aunt wishes to assume responsibility for her no effort will be made to
keep her in the country, that is sure."

"Then it all depends upon Ida's aunt," sighed Betty.

"And our reaching the dock in time," amended Uncle Dick. "I would not wish
to interfere with Miss Bellethorne's business engagement in Rio Janeiro;
but I am anxious for her to authorize me, on behalf of her niece, to get
legal matters in train for the recovery of that beautiful mare. I believe
that she belongs--every hair and hoof of her--to our young friend here.
There has been some trickery in the case."

"Oh, Uncle Dick!" shrieked Betty.

"When I went to see that poor little cripple Hunchie Slattery he told me
that the very papers that were given to Mr. Bolter with the horse must
prove Ida's ownership at one time of the mare. There was some kind of a
quit-claim deed signed by her name, and that signature must be a forgery.

"The horse could never have been sold in England, for the Bellethorne
stable was too well known there. The men who grabbed the string of horses
left when Ida's father died are well-to-do, and Mr. Bolter will be able to
get his money back, even if he has already paid the full price agreed upon
for Ida Bellethorne.

"I am convinced," concluded Uncle Dick, "that the girl has something
coming to her. And it may even pay Miss Bellethorne to remain in the
United States instead of going to Rio Janeiro until the matter of the
black mare's ownership is settled beyond any doubt."

When the train finally reached New York, Uncle Dick did not even delay to
try to reach the dock by telephone. He bundled his party into a taxicab
and they were transported to the dock where the _San Salvador_ lay.

A steward seemed to be on the look-out for the party, and addressed Uncle
Dick the moment he alighted from the cab.

"Mr. Gordon, sir? Yes, sir. Madam Bellethorne has received your wire and
is waiting for you. I have arranged for you all to be passed through the
inspection line. The steamship, sir, is delayed and will not sail until
next tide."

"And that is a mighty good thing for us," declared Mr. Gordon to his
charges.

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