their delightful summer trip–seemed to paralyze her for the time being. Then she was galvanized into life and action.
“Cora, there comes your car out!” cried Bess, as the Whirlwind, the powerful Kimball auto, was seen to poke its hood from the now blazing barn. Ed had been the first to reach the structure, and, quickly switching on the self-starter, had run the machine out.
“I guess they can get out the others!” said Belle, as Walter and Jack dashed inside.
Cora suddenly turned and ran back toward the house.
“Where are you going?” asked Eline. “Oh dear! The whole place will soon be afire!”
“That’s what I’m afraid of!” Cora called back, over her shoulder. “I’m going to get some extinguishers! Maybe the boys can’t reach the one in the barn. It’s our only chance–an extinguisher. Water is the worst thing you can put on a gasoline fire. Get some pails of sand, girls!”
“That’s right–sand!” yelled Ed, as he leaped from Cora’s car, having taken it a safe distance down the drive. He went back on the run to help Jack and Ed. The rain was now pelting down, but unmindful of it, the girls drew nearer the burning barn, while Cora sped toward the house.
“Sand–pails?” asked Belle.
“Yes!” cried Bess. “There are some pails over there!” and she pointed toward a pile of gardening tools. “The watering can will be good, too. Scoop up the sand–use your hands!”
She rushed over and picked up one of the pails, an example followed by her sister and Eline.
“Oh, why don’t those boys come out!” cried the latter. “Maybe they are–burned!” she faltered.
“Perhaps they can’t get our car started,” said Bess. “Sometimes it just won’t respond!”
Quickly they filled the pails with sand, and while this is being done, and other preparations under way to fight the fire and save the autos I will take just a moment to tell my new readers something about the characters in this story, and how they figured in previous books of the series.
The first volume, in which Cora Kimball and her chums were introduced, was entitled “The Motor Girls,” and in that they succeeded in unraveling a mystery of the road, though it was not as easy as they at first thought it might be.
Then came “The Motor Girls on a Tour; Or, Keeping a Strange Promise,” and how strange that promise was, not even Cora realized at the time. But in spite of difficulties it was kept and a restoration was made. In the third book, “The Motor Girls at Lookout Beach,” there came the quest for two runaways.
That girls–even young girls–do things on impulse was made clear to Cora and her friends when they sought after the rather foolish creatures who ran such a risk. That only good came of it was as much due to Cora as to anyone else.
“The Motor Girls Through New England” gave Cora and her companions a chance to see something of life under strange circumstances. That one of them would be captured by the gypsies never for a moment entered their heads. But it happened, and for a time it looked as though the results might be serious. But once again Cora triumphed.
The volume immediately preceding the present one is entitled “The Motor Girls on Cedar Lake; Or, The Hermit of Fern Island.” Who the hermit was, and the strange secret he kept so long, and how it was finally solved you will find set down in that book. Then came the return to normal life, but with the prospect of more adventures, on the verge of which we now find Cora and her friends.
They were ready for the summer vacation, and had voted to spend it at Sandy Point Cove–a resort on the Atlantic coast. It was the evening before the start, and they had gathered at Cora’s house to arrange final details.
They were to motor to the cove, taking their time, for it was no small distance from Chelton where our friends lived. The motor boat Petrel sometimes just called Pet for short, had been shipped on ahead.
I think I have already mentioned the names of the young folks. Cora generally came first, by reason of her personality. She was a splendid girl, tall and rather dark, and had somewhat of a commanding air, though she was not at all fond of her own way, and always willing to give in to others if it could be made plain that their way was best. Her mother was a wealthy widow, and there was Jack, Cora’s brother, taller than she, darker perhaps and was he handsomer? Cora had, some time before, been given a fine large touring car, and Jack owned a small runabout.
Walter Pennington was Jack’s chum, both of them attending Exmouth College, where, of late, Ed Foster had taken a post-graduate course. Ed was very fond of hunting and fishing, and considered himself quite a sportsman.
The Robinson twins were daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Perry Robinson, the father being a wealthy railroad man. He had given the girls a fine car–the Flyaway it had been christened–while Jack called his the Get There. Sometimes it did, and sometimes it didn’t. To go back to the girls. Belle, or Isabel, as she had been christened, was plump and rosy, and her sister Bess, tall, willowy and fair, her rather light hair contrasting with the brown locks of Belle.
Eline Carleton, from Chicago, a distant cousin of Cora had been invited to spend the summer with the Kimballs, and was to go to the Cove. Norton Randolf was a newcomer in town, said to be of a wealthy family. He had only lately made the acquaintance of Jack and his chums, but was rather well liked.
Chelton, as my previous readers know, was a most charming semi-country town, nestling in a bend of the Chelton River, a stream of picturesque beauty. The location was in New England, not so far from the New York line that the trip to the metropolis was a fatiguing one. The young people had often taken it on pleasure bent. And now, not to keep you any longer from the story, which I am afraid I interrupted at a rather critical point, I will merely remark, in passing, that other characters will be mentioned from time to time, some of whom have appeared in previous books.
In the excitement attending the fire, Bess was puffing on her way to the garage, carrying a pail of wet sand that she had scooped up from the driveway. She was followed by the other girls.
“Oh, see the smoke!” cried Eline. “That must be gasoline burning!”
“It is,” assented Belle. “Oh, do hurry–somebody!”
Cora came running out of the house, carrying long tin extinguishers, one in each hand, and one under her right arm. She had just bought a new lot, and had intended hanging them in the garage, but had forgotten it.
“These will be just the thing!” she cried. “Don’t be frightened! There’s not much gasoline in the barn. If we can get out the cars – ”
“Something must be the matter!” cried Bess. “The boys–they are in there yet–they may be overcome!”
As if to deny this startling suggestion Jack fairly shot out of the smoke in the Flyaway– the car of the twins.
“They have left their own car to the last!” gasped Belle.
“They had to!” Cora panted. “They could only take them as they stood, you know. They were in line. Mine was first, then yours. Oh Jack! is it very bad?”
“A mean little blaze, Sis! Did you ’phone in an alarm?” He wiped his streaming eyes, and, bringing the car up alongside the Whirlwind, leaped out to go back to his chums.
“Here! Take
