The Automobile Girls Along the Hudson: or, Fighting Fire in Sleepy Hollow. Crane Laura Dent
He went over at the first blow. My name,” he continued, “is Martinez. José Martinez. My address is the Waldorf, New York.”
“I am Miss Stuart,” said Miss Sallie, “and I would like to present you to my niece, Miss Ruth Stuart, and her friends Miss Grace Carter and Misses Barbara and Mollie Thurston. It would give us great pleasure if you would lunch with us, Mr. Martinez.”
“When a man saves your life you certainly can’t stand on ceremony,” commented Miss Sallie to herself.
An animated discussion followed. Mr. Martinez had been to see the chief of police, he said, who would call on Miss Stuart that afternoon, if convenient. He could not offer any hope, however, of catching the men.
Miss Sallie replied that, for her part, she hoped they wouldn’t take the creatures. It would do no good and she did not want to spend any time cooped up in a court room in such scorching weather. But did Mr. Martinez think it would be dangerous for them to take a trip up into the hills the next day?
“It would depend upon the road,” replied Mr. Martinez. “That is, if the trip were taken by automobile. Of course my motor cycle can run on any road.”
“It is a good road,” replied Ruth. “At the crossroads there is a bad road; but, fortunately, we do not have to take it, since the new road with the bridge has been opened up, so Major Ten Eyck says.”
In which case Mr. José Martinez was of a mind with the young ladies that the trip would be perfectly safe.
Miss Sallie gave a sigh of relief. If this estimable young man sanctioned the trip she felt they might take it with clear consciences. But she did hope her brother’s views on the subject would be the same.
Then the talk drifted into other channels.
“You are a Spaniard, I presume, Mr. Martinez?” questioned Miss Sallie.
“Yes, Madam, a Spaniard by birth, a Frenchman by education and at present an American by choice. I have lived in England, also, but I believe I prefer America to all other countries, even my own.”
Miss Stuart was much gratified at this avowal. She felt that in complimenting America he was complimenting her indirectly.
“Have you seen the Alhambra and the Rock of Gibraltar?” demanded Mollie, her wide, blue eyes full of interest.
“Oh, yes, Madamoiselle,” replied the handsome Spaniard, smiling at her gently, “I have seen the Alhambra many times, and Gibraltar once only.” A curious shade passed over his face as if Gibraltar held memories which he was not anxious to revive.
“Does the Rock of Gibraltar really look like a lion?” asked Grace, who had not noticed his distaste to the mere mention of the name.
“I do not know, Madamoiselle,” he replied shortly. “I saw it only from land. I was,” he added hesitatingly, “very ill when I was there.”
The waiter announced the chief of police to see Miss Sallie, and the luncheon party adjourned to the shady side of the piazza.
All this time Barbara had been very quiet, so quiet, indeed, that Ruth had asked her in a whisper, as they left the dining room, if she were still feeling the shock of the morning.
“Oh, no,” replied Barbara, “I am simply trying to stifle a ridiculous fear I have that, maybe, we ought not to go to-morrow. It is absurd, so please don’t mention it to the others, especially as even Miss Sallie thinks it safe, and little coward Mollie is not afraid.”
“You are just tired, poor dear,” said sympathetic Ruth. “Come along up to your room, and we shall have a little ‘relaxation,’ as my old colored mammy used to say. We’ll spend a quiet afternoon in our rooms, and at sunset we can take a spin along the river bank before supper. What do you say?”
“I am agreeable,” replied Bab.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Martinez,” said Ruth, as the others came up. “You will be wanting to take your siesta now, I suppose. Siestas, in Spain, are like afternoon tea in England, aren’t they? Here in America we don’t have either, much, but I think we shall need both to-day. Perhaps we shall see you at dinner?”
“If I may have that pleasure,” replied the Spaniard, bowing low.
“Strangers of the morning are friends in the afternoon, in this, our life of adventure,” laughed Ruth as they passed along the corridor to the steps.
But they did not see the stranger again that day. For some mysterious reason he left the hotel in the afternoon, and did not return until nearly midnight, when Barbara, who happened to be awake, heard him whistling softly as he went down the hall to his room.
CHAPTER VI – A FOREST SCRIMMAGE
It was really Miss Sallie Stuart’s fault that they were so late in starting the next day to Major Ten Eyck’s home.
The automobile had been ordered to be on hand immediately after an early luncheon, but another call from one of the town police caused the first delay.
The tramps had securely hidden themselves, the officer said, and no trace of them had been found in other towns in that vicinity.
The second delay was caused by a telegram from Miss Stuart’s dressmaker, stating that a dress had been expressed to her which would reach Tarrytown that morning. Bab and Mollie were also expecting an express package of fresh clothes and their organdie dresses, which they felt, now, they would assuredly need.
Consequently the party waited patiently for these ever-necessary feminine adornments, and it was four o’clock before the girls started.
A third delay was caused by the puncture of a tire just as they were leaving the hotel. Now they were obliged to go to the nearest garage and have it repaired, which consumed another three quarters of an hour.
However, it was pleasanter riding in the cool of the afternoon, and they still hoped to reach Ten Eyck Hall long before dark. It was a very gay party that finally took the road, swathed in chiffon veils and dusters.
“I never felt so much interested in a visit as I do in this one,” remarked Ruth. “Certainly we ought to be glad to get there after all these mishaps and delays.”
Barbara was still in her silent humor. She sat with her small handbag clasped tightly on her knees and looked straight before her, as though she were watching for something.
“Bab, my child, what is it?” asked Ruth. “You have been in a brown study all day.”
“Nothing at all, dear,” replied Bab, smiling. “Perhaps this haziness goes to my head a little. But I am awfully glad, too, about the visit. I always wanted to see an old colonial house, and the only way really is to stay in it. If we have the run of the rooms, and all the halls and galleries, we can get to know it much more intimately than if we were just sight-seers being conducted through by an aged housekeeper.”
Meanwhile, on the back seat, Miss Sallie was in a reminiscent mood. It was very agreeable to her to hark back to the joyous days of her youth, for Miss Stuart had been a belle, and the two girls were listening with pleasure to her accounts of the gallant major, who had been graduated from West Point ahead of time in order to join the army during the Civil War.
The conversation was interrupted by the sudden stoppage of the automobile at the crossroads, one of which led straight into the woods, while the other branched off into the open, crossing the now dry bed of a river spanning which was the new bridge.
“This is the right road, of course,” said Ruth, taking the one with the bridge.
“Wait!” cried Barbara. “There’s something stretched across the bridge.”
Sure enough, a rope blocked all passage over the bridge, which was quite a long one. Secured to the rope with cords was a plank on which was painted:
“DANGEROUS: TAKE THE OTHER ROAD!”
“The paint on the sign is still sticky,” exclaimed Barbara who had jumped out and run over to take a good look at it. “And the bridge is broken. There is a large hole, like a gash, on one side, and another further down.”
“How