The Outdoor Girls in a Motor Car/Chapter 9
CHAPTER IX
IN SHADOW VALLEY
The boy, who was endeavoring—and by gentle urging, be it said to his credit—to get the horse to pull the wagon out of the mud-hole, looked up on hearing his name spoken by Betty. At first he did not recognize the girls, and his face plainly showed this.
"Don't you know us?" asked Mollie, as she brought her car to a stop.
The boy shook his head. Then, as he looked from face to face, a light came over his own.
"Oh, yes!" he cried. "You found the little lost child when you were on your walking tour, and turned her over to me."
"Exactly," agreed Betty. "But you seem to be in trouble, Jimmie," for the bony horse had given over the attempt to move the mired wagon and was patiently resting between the shafts, awaiting developments.
"I am in trouble," Jimmie admitted, frankly.
"Have you given up your business, and are you working for some one else?" Grace wanted to know. "Why have you the wagon? The last time you carried your own pack."
"I'm still my own boss," he replied, with a smile. "I am trying for a larger trade, that's all. I got the chance to buy this outfit cheap, and I took it. I guess I got it too cheap," he added, ruefully, "for this horse isn't strong enough to pull me out of this mud-hole. I shouldn't have come this way."
He looked down at the soft, miry road. The one wheel seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into the clay, and the others showed a propensity to follow its example.
"Where did you come from?" asked Will, whose sister had explained to him and the other boys under what circumstances they first met the young peddler.
"Up Shadow Valley way," was the answer, and instinctively the auto party of boys and girls started, and looked at one another.
"Er—was trade good up that way?" asked Frank.
"Oh, not very. You see, there are not enough folks living there. So I thought I'd take a short cut over to Limeburg. I generally do pretty well there. But I guess I'd have done better to have gone the long way. I'm stuck for fair. Go 'long there, Stamp!" he called to the horse. "See if you can move the boat."
"Stamp? Is that his name?" asked Betty.
"I just christened him that, Miss," replied Jimmie, with a smile.
"Why?" asked Grace, who was always the last one to see a joke.
"Because, Miss, he's stuck!" was the answer, and the others, who had anticipated this, laughed at poor Grace.
"I don't care!" she said. "I was thinking of something else then."
"Well, I guess I'll have to stay here until this mud dries up," went on Jimmie, "or I might feed up Stamp until he is strong enough to pull me out. Only that would take too long, I'm afraid. He's been kept on a diet of carpet tacks lately, to judge by the many fine points about him," he added, whimsically.
Will alighted from the auto, and, going as far as the edge of the muddy road, looked critically at the stalled wagon. Then he asked:
"Have you a long rope?"
"Not a very long one," said the boy peddler, "but I have one that may do. I'll get it," and he delved in the rear of his vehicle.
"What's the game?" asked Frank.
"I was going to see if we couldn't pull him out of the hole," replied Will. "If the rope is long enough to reach from his wagon to the auto, and the rope holds, and his wagon doesn't pull apart with the strain, we can do it."
"Oh, I hope we can!" cried Mollie. "We must try."
Jimmie produced the rope, and, tossing one end of it to Will, proved that it was long enough. It looked sufficiently strong, too.
"Now, Mollie, if you'll turn around, and back down as near as you can, we'll see what we can do," proposed Will.
While the car was being manipulated to the proper position, Will tied some knots in the rope.
"Fasten this end to the middle of the whiffletree," he called to Jimmie, tossing the loop to him. "In that way you won't have to unhitch the horse, nor get out in the mud yourself."
"Oh, I won't mind that if I can get out of this hole."
"Might as well take it as easy as you can," went on Will. "That's the ticket. Be sure your knots are firm."
"Yes, don't tie granny ones the way I did the night the Gem got adrift," murmured Grace.
The rope was soon fast to the wagon and backed-up auto.
"Go ahead slowly," cautioned Will. "We don't know what will give way first, the horse or the wagon. Take it easy, Mollie."
Slowly the auto started. There came a strain on the rope. There was a creaking to the old vehicle, and then it slowly began to emerge from the mud. The old horse, who had almost gone to sleep, roused up at this strange activity, and was literally forced to stir out of his tracks. In a few seconds the wagon was on the firm road, the auto having pulled it in a diagonal direction from the mud-hole.
"Thanks, ever so much!" exclaimed Jimmie. "I'm sure I can't thank you enough. If ever you get stuck"
"You'll pull us out!" finished Mollie.
"Not until Stamp is better able to do it," the boy answered with a laugh. "But I'll do all I can."
"And so you didn't like Shadow Valley?" asked Will, as the boy made ready to proceed on his way.
"No, it's too gloomy for me. Hardly anyone lives there."
"Did you see that big mansion up there?" asked Grace.
"The one that rich man built, you mean? Yes, I passed near it a while ago. It's only about three miles from here. The grounds are pretty well in ruins now, but the house is good."
"See anything strange about it?" asked Will.
"Strange? What do you mean?"
"Oh, well, I mean—er—any tramps in it—or anything like that?"
"No, not a thing," and Jimmie looked curiously at his questioner. "Well, I must be going. No more muddy roads for me!"
The auto party took their places again, Betty succeeding Mollie at the wheel, and Will being promised a chance later. Then they started off.
"Where are you going?" asked Grace, as Betty turned up a road on which they seldom journeyed. "This doesn't take us anywhere in particular."
"It goes to Shadow Valley," answered Betty.
"Are are you going there?" gasped Amy.
"Just to get a glimpse of it," was the reply. "Surely you're not afraid—in broad daylight."
"And with us along?" demanded Will, heroically. "Shame!"
"Oh, well" began Amy, but she did not finish.
"This side road leads right into the valley," said Mollie, a little later.
"Then we'll take it," decided Betty, and she swung the car about. A little later they were looking down from a height into the strange valley.
One end—that nearest them—was laid out in a number of small farms, on which were substantial houses. But the other end, where "Kenyon's Folly" had been built, was in the narrower part, and was almost deserted as regards residences. This section of the valley was narrower, the hills—almost mountains—rose high on either side, hemming it in. This produced deep shadows early and late in the day, and gave the valley its name.
"There's the ghost house!" said Will, in a low voice, pointing toward a mansion, perched on one of the side hills, on a natural ledge. "I can see the ghost now!"
"Oh!" screamed Amy.
At that moment from the dense underbrush near the auto there came a loud cry, and some one fairly tumbled down a little declivity into the road—the figure of an old man with long, white hair.