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

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

"Mother always said grandfather was queer about such things," Freda remarked. "I remember we had an old jug that he found on one of his birthdays. He would never allow that jug to be thrown out; he said it meant a jug full of good luck."

"And it, of course, was an empty jug," Cora said, with a smile. "Perhaps that is, after all, the luckiest kind."

Denny chuckled over that remark, and added he had not much use for jugs of any kind.

"'You throw the rope and I'll stick to the oars!' shouted Len, his voice sounding like a wheeze in the wind. There were three men on the steamer and they were just about tuckered out. They were clingin' to the rail, their hands blisterin' from the flames that were sweepin' up close to them even as they touched the water's edge.

"It's an awful thing to see sufferin' like that," he put in. "I won't ever forget how those fellows tumbled into our boat. They just rolled in like dead men. But my rope got caught in the rudder of the steamer, and I tugged and tugged, but it looked as if we would have to let her burn off before we could free ourselves. Just when I decided to make a big haul at it I came near my end. I stood up, gave the rope a yank, and with that--rip! She let go! And I went with it over into the water!"

"Goodness!" Cora exclaimed. "It was bad enough to have to rescue the other men, but for you to go into that roaring ocean!"

"It was bad, Miss," agreed the narrator. "And the feel of that water as I struck it! It was like a bath of sword-points. Well, that's where the oar comes in! Bless the bit of wood it was cut from, it sure was a good, strong stick.

"When I flopped into the water, like a fish dumped out of a net, your grandpop, Freddie, took nary a chance at reachin' me with the rope. He dropped the regular oars and took one of the pair he called lucky.

"'Here,' he yelled, 'grab to that!'

"I can see the red flash now as it nearly hit me on the head, but though I did make a stab at it the water was that cold and the ice so thick on me hands that I couldn't hold on.

"It's pretty bad to be floppin' around like that, I can tell you. But Len kept shoutin' and when one of the other fellows got enough breath to stand up with, he took a hand at the rescuin'.

"It was him who dropped the mate to that oar overboard. Mad! I could hear Len yell through the thick of it all. But he held the last red oar.

"With the effort to keep up me blood heated some, and the next time I saw the flash of red I grabbed it good an' proper. It took three of them to haul me up, but I clung to the red oar and that's how I'm here this minute. Likewise, it's why the oar is here with me."

There was a long pause. The girls had been thrilled with the simple recital, so void of anything like conceit in the part that Denny himself had played in the work of rescue.

TWO MEN

"And the red oar won out," Cora remarked, looking at the old relic with something akin to reverence. "Perhaps, after all, there is something in luck."

"Looked like it," agreed Denny. "And after we got back Len couldn't pay any attention to the half-frozen men, or to me, that had been pretty well chilled--all he could do was talk about the luck of that oar."

"I don't blame him," Freda put in. "Your rope had nearly burned, your light oar broke, one of the heavy pair went overboard and this one did most of the work getting back, I suppose."

"Right," said Denny, "for while we had another pair to work with, they were slim, and weak, but that fellow, it sure was tough then; but lately when I take it down it seems to have shrunk, for it's gettin' lighter, somehow."

"And how did you come to get it?" asked Cora.

"That's the end of my story," said Denny. "When Len was taken very sick, of course I used to stay with me friend as much as I could."

Freda unconsciously pushed her chair nearer the old man. Surely to hear of the last days of her good grandfather's life was a matter too important to pass over lightly.

"Your father was livin' then, Freddie," Denny went on, "and a fine healthy young man, too."

"Father died so suddenly," said Freda, "mother hardly ever speaks of his death. She always seems overcome after talking of it."

"That was a sad thing," Denny digressed. "To go off in the morning, a-whistlin' and happy, and to be brought home without a word in him. Freddie, dear, I oughtn't to talk of it."

Freda brushed aside a tear. Her father's death had been caused by apoplexy, when she was but a mite of a child.

"But the queer part of it was that your grandfather seemed to think I would outlive his son, and John such a strappin'-lookin' fellow," resumed Denny. "Len called me to him, and him sick and miserable, and he says: 'Denny, John's not as strong as he looks, and I want you to do all you can to help Louisa,' , 'for she has the child to raise,' he said. Well, he wouldn't let me interrupt him when I tried to speak of John. He would have it that I should keep an eye to things. Your grandfather Lewis left me no papers, however--I supposed John had them--but he left me the old red oar. He had fairly been playin' with it for years, always polishin' it or shapin' it off here or there. I often look at the marks of his knife on it, and wonder why he seemed fond of it."

"I am sure," said Freda, earnestly, "you have kept your promise, Uncle Denny. Mother often speaks of how good you were when I was small. Father never had any papers about grandfather's land; all he had related to family keepsakes. The strange part of it all is to me that a man of grandfather's intelligence should be so remiss about his property claims."

"But, Freddie, you don't understand. There seemed no need for deeds and mortgage papers then about here. Everybody knew everyone else, and things seemed to be solid forever. But now them plagued land fellows--well, they've got a good cheek, is all I can say." And he emptied an unsmoked pipe of tobacco in his indignation.

"But we are going to get after them," Cora declared. "We want to go slowly, and, if possible, find out what their intentions are. Find what sort of company they claim to have, in the first place, and if they are an honorable set of men they ought to make open claims, instead of sneaking around, and trying to find out things that might cause a flaw in the title. I am suspicious, for one," she finished significantly.

"Well, good luck to your spunk," said Denny, "and I never knew the like of it to fail. But say, tell me about the boat. What did the lads think of the fixin's?"

"Oh, it was the greatest fun," Freda replied. "They could not imagine how we ever thought of using the cylinder water for a dishwater supply. I never gave it away that you suggested it to Cora's mechanic."

Cora laughed at this, and agreed he should be "Uncle Denny" to her as well as to the others of the neighborhood.

"But it was splendid of you to have the boat all ready for us when we came. I did not suppose Freda had a chance to get down to it before we loomed up."

"You don't know the risin' hour for us folks at the Bay," returned Denny, with a sly wink. "Freddie couldn't stay abed when the sun is beckonin' on the waves; could you, Freddie?"

"Oh, the early Summer mornings are beautiful," replied Freda, "and I am sorry I had to lose so many of them. Who's that? The girls, looking for us! There's Bess puffing, and Belle--fluffing. I do think they are the most attractive pair."

Cora smiled, for her own devotion to the Robinson twins was only paralleled by the twins' devotion to Cora.

"Cora! Freda!" called youthful voices from the path. "Where are you?"

"Come in--do!" answered Denny, who always had a spare chair for visitors.

"I will that," the old sailor replied. "I think it would be a good thing to have a little weight, like my old head, in her when she starts out. Them laddies are always up to pranks."

"Oh, we are just crazy to get out on the water," Bess put in, "and what do you think? That vain little Lottie went all the way to town to get the exact nautical cap. I wonder if she thinks folks in motor boats run slowly enough to see little white caps on little light girls?"

"When we get going I think all that will be seen will be splash, and all that will be heard will be chug," Cora remarked. "But come on. Let's hurry along. I promised Rita to help her with something."

"What?" asked Bess, curiously.

"Now, Bessie, that would be telling," replied Cora, stopping just long enough to empty the sand from her tennis shoe. Denny was trudging along after them--he could not resist an excuse to go down to the shore.

"Well, I'll say good-bye," said Freda. "I have to run back to mother. She will think I am lost."

"But you are coming this afternoon?" Cora insisted.

"Oh, I really can't, Cora, thank you," answered the other. "I have something so important to look after."

"I really cannot," returned Freda, decisively, and somehow the girls realized that Freda's business was urgent.

"Now, I'll show you a short cut," said Denny. "Take that path there--don't be afraid of the sign that the owner put up--he has no right to the beach front; then when you get to the Lonely Willow--do you know where that is?"

Not one of them knew, but they were anxious to find out.

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