Dave Porter At Bear Camp: or, The Wild Man of Mirror Lake

"I think I saw some sort of a village ahead," cried Dave, who had been peering intently through the windshield. "I think I saw the white steeple of a church."

"Maybe it's Simpson's Corners," suggested Belle.

"I hope there is a hotel there and a garage," said Dunston Porter. "We'll want to have a chance to dry ourselves and get supper."

"Then you don't think we'll reach Carpen Falls to-night?" questioned Phil.

"I don't know what to think, Phil. Perhaps we may – "

Mr. Porter did not finish what he was saying. Just at that instant came a vivid flash of lightning that nearly blinded them. It was followed by an ear-splitting crash of thunder. Then came another crash closer by, and an instant later Dave and his uncle saw a large tree fall directly toward the roadway in front of them!

CHAPTER XII

A STROKE OF LIGHTNING

"Look out!"

"We are going into that tree!"

"Jam on both brakes, Dave, just as hard as you can!" cried Dunston Porter.

Even before his uncle had spoken Dave had pressed down both feet hard, thus putting on the foot-brake and releasing the gear-clutch. Now his hand shot over to the emergency brake, and this came up with all the power at his command. But the grade was downward, and the road slippery from the rain, and instead of stopping, the touring-car went on, sliding through the mud and over the rocks until it was practically on top of the tree. Then came a jar that threw everybody forward. The steering-wheel saved Dave, but his uncle's elbow struck the windshield, cracking it in several places.

"Look, we've run into a tree!"

"Did the lightning hit the machine?"

"Say, Roger, take yourself off my feet; will you?"

This last cry came from Phil, who was huddled up in a corner of the tonneau.

"It isn't me, it's the handbag, Phil," gasped out Roger, who hung partly over the front seat of the touring-car.

"Anybody hurt?" questioned Dunston Porter quickly, as soon as the shock had come to an end.

"I – I – think I am all right, Uncle Dunston," panted Laura. "But dear me! wasn't it awful?"

"I thought I was going to fly right over Dave's head," wailed Jessie, who had come up behind the youth with a great thump. "Oh, Dave, did I hurt you?"

"Knocked a little of the wind out of me, Jessie; that's all," he answered. "But I won't mind that if only you are not hurt."

"Say, that was some stop, believe me!" was Phil's grim comment, as he managed to straighten up and look ahead. "Stuffed mackerel! what did we try to do, Dave – climb a tree?"

"No. We tried to take a running jump and go over it," replied Roger, with a faint attempt at humor.

"Sound the horn, Dave, as loudly as you can!" cried his uncle, quickly. "We must warn the others." And thus admonished, Dave put his finger on the button of the electric horn and held it down for some time. Looking backward, those in the Wadsworth car soon saw the Basswood machine come into sight and then slow down. The heavy clap of thunder was now followed by another fierce downfall of rain, while the sky grew blacker than ever. In the midst of this outburst the second touring-car came slowly forward.

"Did the lightning strike you?" yelled Ben.

"No. But we had a close call of it," answered Mr. Porter. "It hit this tree when we were less than one hundred and fifty feet away. Then the tree came down as you see, and we ploughed right into it."

"Phew! That's some escape!" was Mr. Basswood's comment. "Anything broken?"

"We don't know yet," answered Dave.

He alighted from the car, and his uncle did likewise. An examination showed that one of the mudguards in front had been badly bent, and that a headlight had snapped off, but beyond this, and the windshield, the big touring-car seemed to be undamaged.

"I'm thankful it's no worse," remarked Dunston Porter.

"It's too bad the light had to go," returned Dave. "It will make running at night rather dangerous until we can get it fixed."

"Oh, let us be thankful that no one was hurt!" cried Laura.

While Dave and his uncle had been examining the car, Mr. Basswood and the others had been looking for some way around the tree, which covered the roadway completely.

"I think I see a path through yonder trees," said Ben, pointing to his left. "The ground seems to be pretty good there, and I think the opening is plenty large enough for our cars."

Mr. Basswood moved forward in the direction his son indicated, and soon called to Ben to start the car. He led the way on foot, and the machine followed slowly. They passed in and out among several trees, and then emerged once more on the highway, some distance beyond the obstruction.

"Hurrah! That's the way to do it!" cried Luke. "Now the others can back up and follow us."

"So they can," answered Shadow. "But what about leaving that tree in the roadway? It's mighty dangerous, and will be more so after dark."

"We can notify the authorities at Simpson's Corners," said Mr. Basswood. "They can send somebody up here with a lantern."

He went back to tell the others of what had been accomplished, and soon the Wadsworth car was backed out from between the branches of the tree that shut off the highway.

"Well, I think the rain is letting up a little, anyway," announced Roger, after the two touring-cars were once more under way. And he was right. That last downfall seemed to clear the sky, and soon they saw the clouds scattering.

Wet from end to end, and covered with mud, the two automobiles rolled into the little settlement that went by the name of Simpson's Corners. Here an old man named Simpson kept a general store to which, in the rear, was attached a small livery stable and garage.

"You certainly must have had some trip over the hills in this storm," remarked Mr. Simpson, after the party had trooped into his place. "It's about as heavy a rainfall as we have had in some time. Where are you bound?"

"We wanted to get to Carpen Falls if we could," answered Dunston Porter. "But perhaps we'll stay in Simpson's Corners, if there are any accommodations."

"Ain't no hotel here," answered the storekeeper. "Used to be one some years ago, but it didn't pay, so the feller that run it gave it up. But Mrs. Whittle serves lunch to travelers if you are hungry."

"Me for Mrs. Whittle's!" whispered Phil.

"Good gracious, Phil! You seem to be hungry all the time on this trip," was Belle's good-natured comment.

"Maybe if we stay here an hour or two it will clear off," said Dave, who was examining the sky closely. "I think the storm is shifting very rapidly."

"I believe you're right, Dave," answered his uncle. "Yes, we'll stay here and get dried out a little, if nothing else."

It was learned that Mrs. Whittle's place was just across the street, and the lady said she would be very glad to furnish them with a hot supper, and added that they could come in and dry themselves in her sitting-room, where she started an open fire. The machines were placed in Mr. Simpson's garage, and they purchased from the storekeeper some gasoline and oil.

"Only a little after five o'clock," announced Roger. "I think by six o'clock the storm will be over," he added.