Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
CHAPTER PAGE I. An Unpleasant Awakening 1 II. The Lost Trail 10 III. Two Strange Men 18 IV. A Curious Story 26 V. Counterfeit Tickets 34 VI. Off to Camp 42 VII. Jack’s Bath 50 VIII. The Storm 58 IX. Tied Up 67 X. A Night Ride 74 XI. In Camp Surprise 83 XII. Disappointment 90 XIII. That Noise 98 XIV. Was It Thunder? 108 XV. A Narrow Escape 115 XVI. Lost 122 XVII. Two Men 131 XVIII. Real Surprises 138 XIX. Where’s My Light? 147 XX. More Happenings 158 XXI. A Dancing Light 163 XXII. A Mountain Cave 170 XXIII. The Trembling Noise 178 XXIV. The Secret Passage 184 XXV. The Patched Tire 191 XXVI. The Dropped Bundle 200 XXVII. The Girls’ Discovery 207 XXVIII. Prisoners 214 XXIX. To the Rescue 222 XXX. All’s Well 235
“Look where you are steering, Cora Kimball! You nearly ran over a chicken that time.”
“Yes, and avoiding the chicken on that side, you nearly hit a child on this side. Such a dear little boy—or was it a girl? I never can tell when they’re so young.”
“Two misses are as good as two miles,” misquoted the bronzed girl at the wheel of the automobile, as she straightened the car on the long, shaded road, where the trees met in a green archway overhead, and where the golden shadows flitted in the dust like so many little chickens running to cover, away from the fat-tired wheels.
“Why are you in such a hurry, Cora?” asked Bess Robinson, as she tucked back a straying lock of brown hair. “It’s too perfect a day to do anything in a hurry—even run a car.”
“Bess doesn’t believe in doing _anything_ in a hurry,” lazily droned her sister Belle, from the rear seat. “That’s why she’s so fat.”
“Don’t dare use that objectionable word!” stormed Bess, turning about so suddenly that she sent Cora’s elbow against the plunger of the horn, thereby producing a sudden blast.
“Oh!” exclaimed Bess. “Did we run into something again?”
“Again?” demanded Cora. “Come, I like that—not! We haven’t run into _anything_ yet.”
“That chicken,” murmured Belle, even more lazily. “Yes?”
“Was a good fifty feet out of danger!” declared Cora indignantly.
“That never _was_ in danger. I didn’t see him—her or it—until we had passed. But the child—gender unknown—was playing in the dust beside the road. Queer how mothers can let them.”