Dorothy Dale's Great Secret

The roads through Glenwood wound up and down like thread on a spool. Scarcely did the Fire Bird find itself on the top of a hill before it went scooting down to the bottom. Then another would loom up and it had to be done all over again.

This succession of steep grades, first tilting up and then down, kept Ned busy throwing the clutches in and out, taking the hills on the low gear, then slipping into full speed ahead as a little level place was reached, and again throwing off the power and drifting down while the brakes screeched and hummed as if in protest at being made to work so hard. The two girls, meanwhile, were busy speculating on what would happen if an “something” should give way, or if the powerful car should suddenly refuse to obey the various levers, handles, pedals and the maze of things of which Ned seemed to have perfect command.

“This reminds me of the Switch-back Railway,” remarked Nat, as the machine suddenly lurched first up, and then down a rocky “bump.”

“Y-y-y-es!” agreed Ned, shouting to be heard above the pounding of the muffler. “It’s quite like a trip on the Scenic Railway – pretty pictures and all.”

“I hope it isn’t dangerous,” ventured Dorothy, who had too vivid a remembrance of the narrow escape on a previous ride, to enjoy the possibility of a second adventure.

“No danger at all,” Ned hastened to assure her.

“A long hill at last!” exclaimed Nat, as the big strip of brown earth uncoiled before them, like so many miles of ribbon dropped from the sky, with a knot somewhere in the clouds. “A long hill for sure. None of your dinky little two-for-a-cent kinds this time!”

“Oh!” gasped Dorothy, involuntarily catching at Ned’s arm. “Be careful, Ned!”

Ned took a firmer grip on the steering wheel, as he finished throwing out the gear and shutting off the power, while the spark lever sent out a shrill sound as he swung it in a segment over the rachet.

The hill was not only remarkably steep, but consisted of a series of turns and twists. Down the grade the car plunged in spite of the brakes that Ned jammed on, with all his force, to prevent a runaway. He was a little pale, but calm, and with his steady hands on the wheel, clinging firmly to it in spite of the way it jerked about, as if trying to get free, he guided the Fire Bird down, the big machine swerving from right to left, but ever following where the lad directed it.

As they swung around a turn in the descending road a clump of trees obstructed the view for a moment. Then the car glided beyond them, gathering speed every moment, in spite of the brakes.

“The creek!” yelled Tavia in sudden terror, pointing to where a small, but deep stream flowed under the road. “There’s the creek and the bridge is broken!”

The water was spanned by a frail structure, generally out of order and in a state of uncertain repair. It needed but a glance to show that it was now in course of being mended, for there was a pile of material near it. Work, however, had been temporarily suspended.

Then, there flashed into view a warning signboard announcing that the old planking of the bridge had been taken up to allow the putting down of new, and that the bridge was impassable. The four horror-stricken occupants of the car saw this at a glance.

“Stop the car!” cried Tavia.

“Can’t!” answered Ned hoarsely. “I’ve got the emergency brake on, but it doesn’t seem to hold.”

“It’s all right,” called Nat. “I saw a wagon go over the bridge when we were on our way to the school this afternoon.”

“But it crossed on some loose, narrow planks!” Tavia gasped. “I saw them put the boards there yesterday when we were out for our walk! I forgot all about them! Oh! Stop the car! We can’t cross on the planks! We’ll all be killed!”

Ned leaned forward, pulling with all his strength on the brake handle, as if to force it a few more notches back and make the steel band grip tighter the whirring wheels that were screeching out a shrill protest at the friction.

“I – I can’t do it!” he exclaimed almost in a whisper.

The Fire Bird was dashing along the steep incline. Ned clung firmly to the steering wheel, for though there was terrible danger ahead, it was also close at hand should the auto swerve from the path. His face was white, and Nat’s forced breathing sounded loud in the ears of the terror-stricken girls.

The bridge was but a few hundred feet away. The auto skidded along as if under power, though the gasolene was shut off.

“There’s a plank across the entrance! Maybe that will stop us!” cried Nat.

“Never in this world!” replied Ned, in despairing tones.

Dorothy was sending up wordless prayers, but she did not stir from her seat, sitting bravely still, and not giving way to useless terror. Nor did Tavia, once the first shock was over, for she saw how quiet Dorothy was, and she too, sank back among the cushions, waiting for the crash she felt would soon come.

“If some boards are only down!” murmured Ned. “Maybe I can steer – ”

The next instant the Fire Bird had crashed through the obstruction plank. It splintered it as if it were a clothes pole, and, a moment later, rumbled out upon the frail, loose planking, laid length-wise across the floorless bridge, as a path for the repair teams.

“Oh! Oh!” shrieked the two girls in one breath.

Nat jumped up from his seat, and, leaning forward, grasped his brother by the shoulders.

Then what followed was always a mystery to the four who had an involuntary part in it. The front wheels took the narrow planks, and clung there as Ned held the steering circle steady. There was a little bump as the rear wheels took the same small boards. There was a crashing, splintering sound and then, before any of those in the car had a chance to realize it, the Fire Bird had whizzed across the bridge and was brought to a quick stop on the other side.

“Whew!” gasped Ned, as he tried to open the paralyzed hands that seemed grown fast to the steering wheel.

“Look at that!” cried Nat, as he leaped from the car and pointed back toward the bridge. “We broke two planks in the very middle, and only the fast rate we clipped over them saved us from going down!”

“What an escape!” cried Tavia as she jumped from her seat.

“Is the car damaged?” asked Dorothy, as she too alighted to stand beside her chum.

“Something happened to the radiator when we hit the rail and broke it,” said Ned, as he saw water escaping from the honey-comb reservoir. “But I guess it won’t amount to much. It isn’t leaking badly. The idea of the county having a picture bridge over a river! Why there’s a swift current here, and it’s mighty deep. Just look at that black whirlpool near the eddy. If we’d gone down there what the machine left of us would have been nicely cooled off at any rate!”

The two boys were soon busy examining the car, while Dorothy and Tavia stood in the road.

“Wasn’t it dreadful!” exclaimed Dorothy. “I do believe we ought not to go auto riding – something happens every time we go out.”

“And to think that I knew about the bridge!” whispered Tavia. “Only yesterday I saw it and noticed how unsafe it was. Then I forgot all about it. Oh, Dorothy! If anything had happened it would have been my fault!”

CHAPTER II

TAVIA HAS PLANS

Dorothy threw her arms about Tavia, and, for a few moments the two girls were locked in each other’s embrace. The reaction, following their lucky escape from almost certain death, had unnerved them. Nor were the two boys altogether free from a shaky feeling, as they carefully looked over the car to see if it had suffered any further damage than the leaky radiator.

“Think she’ll do?” asked Nat.

“Guess so,” replied his brother. “My, but that was as close a call as I have ever had.”

“Me too. I guess we’d better take a breathing spell before we go on.”

The boys sat down on a grassy bank, and the girls followed their example. They looked back over the bridge, and at the two broken planks that had nearly proved their undoing. Through the spaces, where the flooring was torn up, the black, swirling waters could be seen.

While the auto party are resting until they have somewhat gotten over the fright caused by their narrow escape, let me tell something of Dorothy and her friends. As set forth in the first book of this series, “Dorothy Dale; A Girl of To-Day,” the girl was the daughter of Major Frank Dale, a veteran of the Civil War. He ran a weekly newspaper, called The Bugle in Dalton, a small town in New York state. Dorothy’s mother had died some years previous. The girl had two brothers, younger than herself, named Joe and Roger.

Dorothy took part in a temperance crusade in Dalton and had much to do in unraveling the mystery of an unfortunate man given to drink. He left a small fortune to his daughter, whose whereabouts were unknown, and Dorothy succeeded in finding her. In her work the girl was much hampered by a man named Anderson, who sought to do her bodily harm, and who was at the bottom of the mystery concerning the daughter of the unfortunate man.

Dorothy proved herself a brave girl, and, with the help of Tavia, who became her especial chum, did much to aid several persons in Dalton.

In the second volume, “Dorothy Dale at Glenwood School” there I related how Dorothy and her father came upon better days. Major Dale fell heir to quite a sum of money, and could give up the newspaper.

Dorothy was sent to Glenwood School, where Tavia accompanied her. The two girls had many exciting times there, and Dorothy was suspected of something for which she was not to blame, suffering much in consequence of her desire to shield another girl. There was much fun at the school, in spite of this, however including a queer walking match and a strange initiation.