Read Ebook: The Motor Girls on Crystal Bay; or The Secret of the Red Oar by Penrose Margaret

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Ebook has 1475 lines and 44768 words, and 30 pages

ped along in the deep sand of the seashore that banded Crystal Bay.

"But isn't it perfectly beautiful along here?" exclaimed Cora, in rapt delight. "I had no idea the little place could be so charming."

"Oh, yes," returned Freda, with a suspicion of a sigh. "Over there, just in that splendid green stretch is, or was, grandfather's place. It runs all along to the island, and on the other side there is a stream that has been used for a mill race."

"Over there!" Cora repeated. "Why, that looks like the very best part of the bay. And that house on the hill?"

"Grandfather's own home and--mother's," finished Freda.

"Is it rented now?"

"Yes, we have rented it for three years, and it has brought us quite a little income," said Freda.

"But you see that is cut off now. I am sure I do not know who collects the rents."

"What a shame!" cried Cora. "And all because there is some technical proof of ownership missing. I should think that when your family had undisputed possession for years it ought to be sufficient to establish your rights."

"Yes, we never dreamed we could lose it," Freda explained. "Mother and I have lived there in the Winter since father died, and we have rented it in Summer, as I said. Of course the Summer is the desirable time here. And we had some of the loveliest old furniture. But when we had to break up we sold most of it."

"Look out! There's a hole there," Cora warned just in time, for in the heavy sand little rivulets were creeping from some rollers tossed in by a passing boat. The bay was dotted with many craft, and the picture it presented gave Cora keen delight, for it forecasted a merry Summer for the motor girls.

"We only have a little farther to go," Freda said. "I hope old Denny has kept his word and stayed in. He is the queerest old fellow--you will be amused at him, I am sure. But he was always such a staunch friend of grandfather."

"I am anxious to meet him," rejoined Cora. "Somehow I feel we girls ought to get at the bottom of this. Wouldn't it be fine if we could?"

"More than fine, it would be glorious!" Freda replied. "If we lose it all now, I will have to look for work. Not that I mind that," she added, "but I intend to take a course in nursing. I have always longed to be a nurse."

"And that would be a splendid profession for you," Cora agreed. "I do hope you will not have to go to work in some office."

"Oh, there's Denny! Denny!" called Freda, leaving Cora without further ceremony, and hurrying ahead as fast as the soft sand would allow. "See, there he is! Just going out in his fishing boat."

Cora ran after her, and soon they overtook the old fisherman, who was deaf. Freda didn't mind getting her shoes wet in order to approach the water's edge.

"Good morning, Denny," she called, "come in here. We want to talk to you."

He took his pipe from his mouth, in order that his mind should not be distracted. Then he pushed his cap back, and dropped an oar.

"Freddie, is that you?" he asked. "Sure I thought you was comin' up to the shack, and I've bin waitin' for you."

"We are on our way up there now. You are not going out, are you?" pleaded Freda.

"No, Freddie," , "I'll come right in. I was only goin' acrost to get a few little things; but they can wait."

Cora now had a chance to see this quaint old fellow. He was Irish, with many fine humorous wrinkles about his eyes and mouth. He seemed to breathe through his pipe, so constantly did he inhale it, and just how he kept his sailor's blouse so clean, and his worn clothes so neat, was a trick he had learned in his younger days in the navy.

"Isn't this a fine day?" he commented, with a nod to Cora.

"Simply perfect," she answered, seeing there was no need for a formal introduction. "I have been telling Freda how surprised I was at the beauty of this place."

"Surprised, is it? Sure, there ain't another spot this side of Cape Cod with as many fine points to it. I wouldn't leave this little bay for a berth on any ocean liner."

"My friend, Cora Kimball, is from Chelton, Uncle Denny. Do you know where that is?" asked Freda.

"Chelton? Chelton? Sure, I do. I went through there once in a parade wagon. We were out with the G. A. R. and I guess the parade got lost, for I remember at Chelton we had to put up for the night in an old church they were using for a fire house. But we had a fine time," and he chuckled at the recollection. "And next day we finished up without the need of a wagon. It was like camp days to scatter ourselves about the big ramshackle place."

"Oh, yes, that's out in the East End," Cora said. "We have quite an up-to-date fire house in Chelton Center."

"Well, that was good enough for me," he asserted. "But come along and I'll show you my shack. Freddie will be surprised at my new decorations."

Up the little board walk to a path through the woods the three tramped. Denny Shane was popular with young folks; even the mischievous boys who would occasionally untie his boat before a storm had no reason to fear his wrath, for such pranks were quickly forgotten.

"And the mother, Freddie?" he asked. "How's she gettin' on?"

"Well, she worries a good deal," the girl replied. "But I keep telling her it must come right in time."

"Sure it will. The rascals that would do wrong to a widder couldn't prosper. 'Taint lucky. But they're foxy. Did you hear anything new?"

"Yes, but not much that is substantial. My friend and I want to see you to find out all that you may know about it. Perhaps there is some clue we have been overlooking, that you could give us."

"Well, you're welcome to all I know. But here we are. No need to unlock my door," he said as he saw Cora smile at his unceremonious entrance to the shack. "Them that has nothin' has nothin' to fear."

A surprising little place, indeed, the girls were shown into. Neat and orderly, yet convenient and practical, was Denny Shane's home. There was a stove and a mantel, a table, two chairs and a long bench. Pieces of rag carpet indicated the most favored spots--those to be lived on.

"And now, Freddie," began Denny, drawing out two chairs, "what do you think of my housekeeping?"

"Why, you are just as comfortable and neat as possible," she replied. "But I notice one thing has not lost its place--your red oar."

"No--indeed!" he said almost solemnly. "That oar will stay with me while Denny Shane has eyes to see it. It has a story, Freddie, and I often promised to tell it to you. This is as good a time as another."

He put his pipe down, brought a big chair up to the window, opened a back door to allow the salt air to sweep in; then, while Cora looked with quickening interest at the old red oar, that hung over the fireplace, Denny shook his head reflectively and started with his story.

"That oar," he said, "seems like a link between me and Leonard Lewis--your grandpa, Freddie. And, too, it is a reminder of the night when I nearly went over the other sea, and would have, but for Leonard Lewis and his strong red oar."

A light flashed into the old eyes. Plainly the recollections brought up by his story were sacred. He left his chair and went over to the mantel, climbed up on a box and touched the oar that had sagged a little from its position.

"The wind rocks this shanty so," he explained, "the oar thinks it's out on the waves again, I guess. I don't like to spoil it with nails or strings."

"It looks very artistic," Cora declared; "but how curious that an oar should be painted red."

"Yes, there was only one pair of them, that I know of. One went with the wreck, and this one Len Lewis held on to. Now I'll tell you about it."

Again he seated himself and this time started off briskly with the tale.

"It was a raw January night--in fact, it seemed as if it had been night all day for all the chance the sun had to get out. A howling wind whistled and fairly shrieked at everything that didn't fly fast enough to suit it. Len and me had been puttin' in a lot of time together at his house, just chinnin'--there wasn't much else to do but to keep warm. Well, along about five o'clock, we heard a rocket! The wind died away for a minute or so, and we dashed out to the beach to get the lay of that distress signal. Talk about big city fires!" he digressed. "A fire on land ain't what it is on sea. It always seems like as if death has a double power with the fire and the deep and nothing but the sky above to fan the flame.

"We soon saw the smoke. It was from a point just over the turn, where the clouds dip down and touch the waves. A little tail of smoke crawled up and hung black and dirty, not gettin' any bigger nor spreadin' much. When we sighted her, we went to work in the way men of the sea have of working together and never sayin' a word. Up the beach we chased, and dragged out the boat we called our 'Lifer.' It was a good, strong fishin' boat, and we kept her ready in the rough weather.

"'Wait!' yelled Len to me, just as I was pushin' off. 'I've got a lucky pair of oars. They're bigger and heavier than ours, and I'll toss 'em in. We might need 'em.'

"Little I thought of the need we would have! And I always laughed at Len's idea of luck--and me an Irishman, too."

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