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

“And we hope you had time to embroider another sign for our car,” added Bess. Really, she said later, she could not help it.

“Um!” grunted Jack. “I sat up for you,” he added to his sister.

“There was no need, Jack. We had Mrs. Fordam. It was a very pretty dance. I am glad the girls had a chance to go.”

The girls seemed glad too, and really looked quite effective in their party growns, which were carried in the trunks that were strapped on the autos.

“Oh, it was lovely!” sighed Bess.

“And that tall young fellow was such a fine dancer!” echoed Eline.

“Huh!” growled Jack. “I’m going to bed.”

“I guess we’re all tired enough to re-tire–joke!” exclaimed Cora. “Good-night, Jack. Sorry we couldn’t go with you, but we had a–previous engagement!”

The boys did not say much next morning, though the girls were enthusiastic about their affair.

“If we could only have one two or three times a week,” sighed Belle, who was a fine dancer.

“We may, at Sandy Point Cove,” spoke Cora. “There is a pavilion there–also moving picture shows, to which the boys can take us,” and she glanced at Jack. He said nothing.

Once more they were on their way. The roads were good, and save for the fact that they took a wrong one shortly after lunch, and went a few miles out of their route, nothing of moment happened.

“Ten miles to Sandy Point Cove!” read Jack, as they stopped at a cross-road, to inspect the signboards. “We’ll make it in an hour.”

“And then for a bath in the briny deep!” cried Walter.

“I hope the fishing is good,” remarked Ed. “I haven’t caught anything in a month.”

“I hope the Pet has arrived,” Cora exclaimed. “I am just dying for a motor boat ride.”

“Let us hope it has then; we don’t want you to expire,” came from Norton.

In less than an hour they had reached the shore road and were spinning down it toward the cove where they were to spend the summer. As they mounted the bluff, around the end of the cove, from which a magnificent view of the ocean could be had, Cora uttered a cry:

“Look, that sailboat has capsized!” she exclaimed. And she pointed to a small sloop that had jibed and gone over in a sudden squall. As the motor girls and boys looked they saw a girlish form clinging to the rounded side of the craft, her bright red bathing suit making her a conspicuous figure against the dark hull.

CHAPTER XIII

THE LIGHTHOUSE MAID

Jack Kimball had always said that his sister Cora only needed an opportunity to prove that she could think quickly in emergencies, and could demonstrate that she was courageous. Cora had done this on other occasions, and now at the sight of the overturned boat, and the figure of the girl clinging to it, there came the chance for Cora, as one of the motor girls, to prove that her ability in this direction had not lessened.

Without another word Cora turned her car down a slight slope that led to the sandy beach. It was a perilous road, rather too steep to negotiate in a heavy car, but Cora had seen that it was encumbered with sand that would act as a brake.

“Where are you going?” gasped Eline, gripping the sides of the seat until her hands ached.

“Down to rescue that girl!” explained Cora, pressing her lips tightly together. She was under a nervous tension, and she needed all her wits about her.

“But in the car–the water – ” faltered Eline.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to run my car into the bay. There’s a boat on shore–a rowboat–this was the quickest way to get down to it. Can you row?”

“Yes, Cora, but – ”

“You may have to!”

The auto plunged down the steep, sandy slope to the beach. The others in the motoring party had brought their machines to a stop, and were gazing in wonderment at Cora.

“What are you going to do?” cried Jack. “Come back! We’ll get her, Cora!”

But Cora paid no attention. She had reached the beach, and quickly shut off the power.

“Come on!” she exclaimed to Eline, leaping out.

The two raced over the sand to where a light rowing craft was drawn up. There were oars in it, and Cora knew she and Eline could launch it. The girl on the overturned sailboat was making frantic gestures and calling:

“Hurry! Hurry!”

“Her boat must be sinking,” gasped Eline, as she and Cora reached the rowboat.

“It can’t be that,” answered the motormaid, with a quick and critical glance at the sailboat. “Probably there is some one else with her, who is in danger. She isn’t in any particular trouble that I can see. She must swim!”

By this time Cora and Eline had the boat in the water. The stern was still on the pebbly beach.

“Jump in!” called Cora. “I’ll shove off!”

“But you’ll get your feet wet!”

“What of it? As if I cared!” Vigorously Cora pushed off the boat, and managed to get in, though not without getting rather wet. Then, seizing one pair of oars, while Eline took the others, they rowed hastily out to the capsized craft. Other boats were now hastening to the scene of the accident, but Cora Kimball was the first to reach it. Jack and the other boys and girls had left their cars on the main road, and were racing down the beach.

“Oh, I’m so glad you came!” gasped the girl on the sail boat. “I’m holding him, but I can’t seem to pull him up here. He’s so heavy!”

“Who is it?” gasped Cora. She was rather out of breath.

“My little brother Dick. He got in the way of the boom, and the main sheet fouled. That’s why I jibed. I’d never have done it by myself. We both went overboard, and I grabbed him. I got up here, but I can’t pull him up. Oh, please help me!”

“Of course I will,” cried Cora.

“Then pull around on the other side, and you can lift him into your boat. I can swim ashore.”

Directed by the girl on the sail boat, Cora and Eline sent their craft around so that they were opposite the half-submerged deck, which was now perpendicular in the water. There they saw the girl holding above the surface of the bay the head of a boy about seven years old. He seemed as self-possessed as though he were on shore, and calmly blinked at the rescuing girls.

“He’s so fat and heavy,” cried the girl in the bathing suit.

“I’m very fat,” confessed the boy in the water, calmly.

Indeed he did seem so, even though only his head and part of his shoulders showed. The wind was rising a little again, having subsided somewhat after capsizing the boat. The surface of the bay was broken into little waves, and they splashed into the face of the fat boy. But he did not seem to mind.