The Motor Girls on the Coast: or, The Waif From the Sea

“The road doesn’t go–it stays right here!” chuckled her brother.

“Stop it!” she commanded in such a tone that he knew she meant it.

“How far before there is a cross-road into which you could turn your sheep?” went on Cora, fixing the man with what Jack said afterward was “a cold and fishy glance.”

“A matter of four mile, miss.”

“I thought so. Then we’d have to tag along behind you all that distance, losing time, and – ”

“To say nothing of swallowing all that dust!” exclaimed Belle, pointing to a cloud of it that hung over the flock of sheep, which the dogs were skillfully herding. “Oh, it’s awful!”

“That’s why I’ve thought of a way out,” spoke Cora.

“Then out with it, Sis!” exclaimed the irrepressible Jack. Once more his sister turned her attention to him–this time it was only a look, but it sufficed.

“Do you see that field over there?” asked Cora of the sheep man, pointing to one rich and luxuriant in deep, green grass.

“Yes, miss, I see it,” and he pointed with the stem of his pipe to be sure he made no mistake.

“Yes. Well, now, could you take your sheep in there, and keep them–er–quiet–until we passed in our autos. You see it is impossible for us to get by on the road, for even if you did get the animals to one side one might leap out, under the wheels of a car and there would be an accident.”

“I see, miss. The sheep might be killed.”

“Yes, and we’d be wrecked,” growled Jack. “What’s the game, Sis? If we stay here much longer that dinner will be eaten by some one else.”

“Be quiet Jack–please! Now could you not drive your sheep into the field?” she asked. “Then we could get past. Of course we might turn around and go back to some other road, but it would delay us. Could you?”

Certainly no mere man could withstand the appealing glance thrown at this humble sheep herder. He capitulated.

“I guess I could do it, miss. But what if the man who owns this field was to see me? You see I’m a stranger in these parts–I’m only hired to drive these sheep to the man that bought them.”

“I see. Well, if we gave you a dollar or so, you could give it to the man who owns that pasture in case he made objection. It would be worth two dollars to get past.”

“More,” Jack framed with his lips, but he did not speak aloud, being a careful and frugal youth.

“The sheep could not eat much grass in the short time you drove them into the field, kept them there until we got past, and then let ’em out again; could they?” she asked, with a winning smile.

“No, miss, I guess I can do it. Sheep is queer. They is easily frightened, and maybe it would be the best way. Why, only last night, when I had turned ’em into a pasture they near ran off on me.”

“Why?” asked Jack, rather idly.

“Well, you see it was this way. I had ’em all settled for the night, a matter of several miles back, when a woman came running along the road. She was takin’ on somethin’ bad, cryin’ like, and mutterin’ ‘Kin I ever find her? Kin I ever find her?’ You see – ”

“Was that what she said?” cried Cora excitedly.

“She did, miss!”

“What sort of a woman was she?” With her eyes Cora signalled to Jack to remain quiet. She knew the girls would.

“Well, I couldn’t rightly say, miss, as it was so dark right after the storm. But before I knew what she was doin’ she had come into the pasture that I hired for the sheep over night, and run toward a hay stack. She stumbled over a lamb, fell down, the dogs barked, and it took all I could do to quiet them sheep.”

“What became of the woman?” asked Cora, making a motion with her lips to signify that she thought her the same mysterious one who had been in her barn.

“Well, she was real sorry for having made me so much trouble, and it was trouble. She said she didn’t see the sheep in the field, and she was as scar’t as they was, I reckon. I asked her what she was doin’ out and she said looking for a girl.”

“A girl?” asked Jack, sharply.

“Yes. I ast her if it was her girl–thinkin’ she might be a farmer’s wife from around there, but she didn’t say any more. Only she kept sort of moanin’ like, an’ sayin’ as how her life was spoilt, an’ how if she could only find a girl–well, I couldn’t make much head or tail of it, an’ anyhow I was worried about the sheep, for one got torn on a barbed wire fence. But I was sorry for the woman. I ast her if she intended to spend the night out-doors, and she said yes.

“I couldn’t hardly stand for that–for by her voice I could tell she wasn’t a common kind. So I ast her if she had any money. I was goin’ to give her some myself, so she could get a night’s lodging anyhow. She put her hand in her pocket–sort of absent-minded like, and then she got a surprise, I guess, for she pulled out a silver purse, that she didn’t seem to expect to find there. I could see it plain for I was lightin’ my pipe just then to quiet my nerves.”

“A silver purse?” cried Cora.

“Ahem!” coughed Belle, meaningly, and Cora, looking at her, understood there was something to be told–later.

“Yes, a silver purse,” went on the man. “She didn’t appear to know she had it, and when she opened it and saw some bills and silver, she was more struck than ever. She said something about not knowing it was there, and then she cried out: ‘Oh, it must have been them dear girls! God bless ’em!’ That’s the words she used, miss. I remember ’em well.”

The others had left their cars now, and come up to hear the recital. The boys looked meaningly at one another, and the girls exchanged glances.

“What happened next?” asked Cora.

“Why, nothin’ much, miss. You see the woman had money though she didn’t know it, which I took to be queer. But it wa’n’t none of my affair. She gave me good-night and went back to the road, walkin’ off in the direction of the town. I guess she got lodging all right–she could go to a hotel with that money. It was more than I carry. But the sheep was all right by then, quieted down, so I left ’em to my dogs and crawled under the hay. I slept good, too.

“But now, miss, I want to oblige you an’ your friends, so I’ll just drive my animals into that field. I don’t believe the owner will care.”

“Well, take this in case he does,” said Cora, passing over a two-dollar bill. “Get ready now, people!” she cried gaily. “We’re going to move!”

With the aid of the beautiful collies, who seemed to be able to do everything but talk, the herder drove his sheep through the lowered bars of the pasture.

Then, with the bars up again, so they could not come out, the man waved for the auto to proceed, swinging his cap at the boys and girls in token of good will. Cora’s Whirlwind speeded up, followed by the others, and soon they were on the broad, level highway that led to Mooreville.

“Cora, I simply must speak or I’ll – ” began Bess.

“Don’t burst!” cautioned Jack, running his car up alongside his sister’s. The road was wide enough for three for a short distance.

“Wasn’t that the same woman who was at your house?” went on Bess.

“I’m sure of it,” assented Cora. “Only I didn’t want to speak of it before him, Poor creature! What a plight to be in! No place to stay!”

“But that silver purse!” cried Bess. “And the money – ” She stopped suddenly and looked at her sister. “Belle Robinson, you never gave that to her!” she cried.

“Yes I did,” admitted Belle. “I slipped it into the pocket of her cloak. I could see she needed it.”

“‘Bread upon the waters,’” quoted Cora. “I was wondering where she got it when the man mentioned it. To think of hearing about her again. Girls, I’m sure she must be, in some way, tragically mixed up in our lives. We are destined to meet her again, I’m sure.”

“Well, I can’t afford another silver purse,” said Belle, smiling. “It will have to be plain leather next time.”

“We’ll all chip in,” declared Jack.