The Outdoor Girls in a Motor Car/Chapter 14
CHAPTER XIV
AT THE HAUNTED HOUSE
"Girls, I can't stand this any longer!" complained Mollie, as the storm raged about and above them.
"What are you going to do?" asked Betty.
"For one thing, let's try to take one of the curtains from the side where the wind doesn't blow so hard, and fasten it on the place where that one blew away. That will help some."
They tried, but it was hard work. The curtains fastened with straps above and below, being a new kind, and not very satisfactory, as Mollie declared then and there. Nor were the girls successful, for the wind whipped and blew the curtain about so that it was impossible to put it up. Thus there were two openings now—one on either side of the auto—and rain came in both.
"This is dreadful!" cried Mollie. "Girls, I'm sure you'll never forgive me for getting you into this scrape."
"It wasn't your fault," said Betty. "You couldn't tell that the motor was going to give out. Besides, what if we are wet? It isn't very cold, and we'll get dry some time. Oh, but that was a heavy one!" she cried, pressing her hands over her ears as a tremendous peal of thunder followed closely after a vivid flash.
"We must do something!" cried Mollie. "This is unbearable."
"But what are you going to do?" asked Grace. "It looks to me as though we'd just have to bear it."
"We can get out and walk until we find some kind of shelter," said Mollie. "There must be some sort of house around here. This place isn't a desert. And even walking in the rain and mud is better than staying here, all cramped up, and drenched. Who will come?"
"I guess we all will, if one of us goes," spoke Betty. "But, oh, Mollie, are you sure that's the best thing to do?"
"Why not? What else can we do?"
"Well, of course if this storm would let up it would be easier going out then. We might wait a while."
"It doesn't show any signs of letting up," retorted Mollie. "It acts to me like an all-night rain, and the longer we wait the worse off we'll be, and the less chance we'll have of finding any one up if we do locate a house."
"Oh, for a nice dry house, and a good hot cup of chocolate!" sighed Grace.
"Heartless creature—to even dream of such things!" cried Amy. "Oh dear! What do you think? A stream of water is going down my back."
"And both my shoulders are soaking wet," added Mrs. Mackson. "But it might be worse, girls!"
"I don't very well see how, remarked Mollie. "Well, shall we try it?"
The others hesitated a moment. As they waited and listened to the whining of the wind, the swish of the rain and the angry muttering of the thunder, and saw the vivid lightning, it was no wonder they did not want to decide hurriedly to go out in that out burst of the elements. But it was also trying on the nerves to stay in the stalled auto, exposed as it was by the lack of side curtains.
"Oh, let's try it!" suggested Betty in sheer desperation. "We can't any more than get drenched, and our rain coats will be some protection. Come on, girls."
They had the two oil lanterns in the car with them, and carrying them they now emerged from their shelter.
"Gracious! This is awful!" gasped Mollie, as the blast and rain struck her full in the face.
"Keep on!" called Betty, grimly.
"Which way?" asked Amy. "How dark it is!"
"Not when it lightens—that's one good thing about it," said Cousin Jane, cheerfully.
"It's nice you can see some good points," laughed Mollie—yes, actually laughed, and the girls marveled at it. But Mollie had that rare quality of "keeping her nerve," if I may be pardoned that expression, so often and effectively used by my friends, the boys.
"We had better go forward," suggested Betty. "We didn't pass any houses for quite a while as we were coming up here, and there may be one not far off just ahead. Or we may find a crossroad. Advance, I say!"
"And I agree," spoke Mollie. "Come on."
She and Betty led the way, carrying the lamps, which gave but an uncertain light, and that only in one direction—forward. However, the road, though now quite muddy, was a level one, and in fairly good condition.
Forward they tramped through the rain. It is on such occasions as these—when something goes wrong, upsetting all prearranged plans, and making life seem miserable—that true courage of a sort, comradeship, good-fellowship and real grit are best shown. And, to the credit of the outdoor girls be it said that, now they had taken the "plunge" none of them showed the white feather. They were brave under any circumstances and this very bravery strengthened their tired nerves.
On they splashed through muddy puddles, protecting themselves from the rain as best they could by their coats. But occasionally the wind would whip them open, letting in the moisture that already had soaked the garments well.
"There doesn't seem to be any shelter," remarked Amy, hopelessly, when they had gone perhaps half a mile.
"Oh, don't give up yet," suggested Mollie.
They kept on, and came to a cross-road.
"Now which way?" asked Betty.
"Straight ahead," proposed Mollie.
"To the left," offered Grace.
"The right," was Amy's choice.
"I think I'm not sure, but I think I see a light off to the left," said Cousin Jane.
"A light!" cried Betty. Then we ought to head for that."
"But I am not certain," went on Mrs. Mackson. "Look, girls, is that a light?"
They grouped around her, and gazed in the direction she pointed.
"Hold the lamps the other way, and we can see better," suggested Grace.
"Hold the lens against your skirts, Mollie," said Betty. "That will make dark-lanterns for us."
She and Mollie did this, and in the intense blackness, that, for the moment was not illuminated by a lightning flash, they peered about them.
"It is a light!" exclaimed Grace. "Thank goodness!"
"I think so, too," added Mollie, as she glimpsed a point of illumination. "Come on, girls! They won't refuse to help us."
Much encouraged they kept on. The rain increased, but they did not so much care now. The thunder was just as hard, and the flashes of heaven's fire was vivid, while the wind seemed more powerful. But they kept on. The light they had seen seemed to grow brighter. Then it suddenly disappeared.
"Oh dear!" cried Grace, despairingly. "It is gone!"
"Never mind," said Mollie. "They may have taken it to another room, or put it out to go to bed. But we can find the place, as long as we are on the right road."
On they stumbled, and then Betty, who was a little in the advance gave a cry—a cry of joy.
"Here is the house!" she cried. "It is all dark, but we will knock."
By the lightning flashes they saw, set some distance back from the road, a large house. By the same flashes they saw leading up to it a path, much overgrown with weeds. And back of the house were big trees. The rest was not very distinct, but at least shelter was offered them.
"Come on!" urged Betty, resolutely.
"Suppose there are—dogs?" faltered Amy.
"If there are they would have barked before now. But I don't believe even a self-respecting dog would bother us on a night like this," said Mollie. "Come on."
They advanced up the old path, that was overgrown with weeds.
"I don't believe any one lives there," ventured Grace, in a low voice.
"If they do they don't keep the place in very good condition," spoke Cousin Jane. "It's a shame to let it get so run down."
Mollie was knocking on the door. The sound of her knuckles seemed to echo through an empty house. The hearts of the girls were despairing again. Once more Mollie knocked. No answer.
"No one at home," she murmured. "And yet the light!"
She gave a little cry.
"What is it?" asked Betty.
"The door—it opened of itself!'
"Nonsense! Perhaps it was not shut, and you pushed it!"
Betty flashed her light forward. It shone on the old door, that was slowly swinging open, seemingly of its own accord. Then a bare and deserted hall was observed.
At that moment there came a vivid lightning flash, and before the thunder could echo Grace cried:
"We're at the haunted house of Shadow Valley!"