by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER XV.
The Broken Motor-car.
Out where the trail from Kenmore intersects the one leading from Laurel toand through King's Highway, I passed over a little hill and came suddenlyupon a big, dark-gray touring-car stalled in the road. In it Beryl Kingsat looking intently down at her toes. I nearly fell off my horse at theshock of it, and then my blood got to acting funny, so that my head feltqueer. Then I came to, and rode boldly up to her, mentally shaking handswith myself over my good luck. For it was good luck just to see her,whether anything came of it or not.
"Something wrong with the wheelbarrow?" I asked her, with a placidsuperiority.
She looked up with a little start--she never did seem to feel my presenceuntil I spoke to her--and frowned prettily; but whether at me or at thecar, I didn't know.
"I guess something must be," she answered quite meekly, for her. "It keepsmaking the funniest buzz when I start it--and it's Mr. Weaver's car, andhe doesn't know--I--I borrowed it without asking, and--"
"That car is all right," I bluffed from my saddle. "It's simply obeyinginstructions. It comes under the jurisdiction of my private Providence,you see. I ordered it that you should be here, and in distress, andgrateful for my helping hand." How was that for straight nerve?
"Well, then, let's have the helping hand and be done. I should be at home,by now. They will wonder--I just went for a--a little spin, and whenI turned to go back, it started that funny noise. I--I'm afraid of it.It--might blow up, or--or something."
She seemed in a strangely explanatory mood, that was, to say the least,suspicious. Either she had come out purposely to torment me, or she wasafraid of what she knew was in my mind, and wanted to make me forget it.But my mettle was up for good. I had no notion of forgetting, or ofletting her.
"I'll do what I can, and willingly," I told her coolly. "It looks like agood car--an accommodating car. I hope you are prepared to pay thepenalty--"
"Penalty?" she interrupted, and opened her eyes at me innocently; a bit_too_ innocently, I may say.
"Penalty; yes. The penalty of letting me find you outside of King'sHighway, _alone_," I explained brazenly.
She tried a lever hurriedly, and the car growled up at her so that shequit. Then she pulled herself together and faced me nonchalantly.
"Oh-h. You mean about the black velvet mask? I'm afraid--I had forgottenthat funny little--joke." With all she could do, her face and her tonewere not convincing.
I gathered courage as she lost it. "I see that I must demonstrate to youthe fact that I am not altogether a joke," I said grimly, and got downfrom my horse.
I don't, to this day, know what she imagined I was going to do. She satvery still; the kind of stillness a rabbit adopts when he hopes to escapethe notice of an enemy. I could see that she hardly breathed, even.
But when I reached her, I only got a wrench out of the tool-box and yankedopen the hood to see what ailed the motor. I knew something of that makeof car; in fact, I had owned one before I got the _Yellow Peril_, andI had a suspicion that there wasn't much wrong; a loosened nut willsometimes sound a good deal more serious than it really is. Still, ahalf-formed idea--a perfectly crazy idea--made me go over the wholemachine very carefully to make sure she was all right.
When I was through I stood up and found that she was regarding mecuriously, yet with some amusement. She seemed to feel herself mistress ofthe situation, and to consider me as an interesting plaything. I didn'tapprove that attitude.
"At all events," she said when she met my eyes, and speaking as if therehad been no break in our conversation, "you are rather a _good_ joke.Thank you so much."
I put away the wrench, fastened the lid of the tool-box, and then I facedher grimly. "I see mere words are wasted on you," I said. "I shall have tocarry you off--Beryl King; I _shall_ carry you off if you look at me thatway again!"
She did look that way, only more so. I wonder what she thought a man wasmade of, to stand it. I set my teeth hard together.
"Have you got the--er--the black velvet mask?" she taunted, leaning justthe least bit toward me. Her eyes--I say it deliberately--were a directchallenge that no man could refuse to accept and feel himself a man after.
"Mask or no mask--you'll see!" I turned away to where my horse wasstanding eying the car with extreme disfavor, picked up the reins, andglanced over my shoulder; I didn't know but she would give me the slip.She was sitting very straight, with both hands on the wheel and her eyeslooking straight before her. She might have been posing for a photograph,from the look of her. I tied the reins with a quick twist over thesaddle-horn and gave him a slap on the rump. I knew he would go straighthome. Then I went back and stepped into the car just as she reached downand started the motor. If she had meant to run away from me she had beenjust a second too late. She gave me a sidelong, measuring glance, andgasped. The car slid easily along the trail as if it were listening forwhat we were going to say.
"I shall drive," I announced quietly, taking her hands gently from thewheel. She moved over to make room mechanically, as if she didn't in theleast understand this new move of mine. I know she never dreamed of whatwas really in my heart to do.
"You will drive--where?" her voice was politely freezing.
"To find that preacher, of course," I answered, trying to sound surprisedthat she should ask, I sent the speed up a notch.
"You--you never would _dare_!" she cried breathlessly, and a littleanxiously.
"The deuce I wouldn't!" I retorted, and laughed in the face of her. It wasqueer, but my thoughts went back, for just a flash, to the time Barney haddared me to drive the _Yellow Peril_ up past the Cliff House to SutroBaths. I had the same heady elation of daredeviltry. I wouldn't haveturned back, then, even if I hadn't cared so much for her.
She didn't say anything more, and I sent the car ahead at a pace thatalmost matched the mood I was in, and that brought White Divide sprintingup to meet us. The trail was good, and the car was a dandy. I was makingstraight for King's Highway as the best and only chance of carrying out myfoolhardy design. I doubt if any bold, bad knight of old ever had theeffrontery to carry his lady-love straight past her own door in broaddaylight.
Yet it was the safest thing I could do. I meant to get to Osage, and theonly practicable route for a car lay through the pass. To be sure, therewas a preacher at Kenmore; but with the chance of old King being therealso and interrupting the ceremony--supposing I brought matterssuccessfully that far--with a shot or two, did not in the least appeal tome. I had made sure that there was plenty of gasoline aboard, so I droveher right along.
"I hope your father isn't home," I remarked truthfully when we wereslipping into the wide jaws of the pass.
"He is, though; and so is Mr. Weaver. I think you had better jump out hereand run home, or it is not a velvet mask you will need, but a mantle ofinvisibility." I couldn't make much of her tone, but her words impliedthat even yet she would not take me seriously.
"Well, I've neither mask nor mantle," I said, "But the way I can fade downthe pass will, I think, be a fair substitute for both."
She said nothing whatever to that, but she began to seem interested in theaffair--as she had need to be. She might have jumped out and escapedwhile I was down opening the gate--but she didn't. She sat quite still,as if we were only out on a commonplace little jaunt. I wondered if shedidn't have the spirit of adventure in her make-up, also. Girls do,sometimes. When I had got in again, I turned to her, rememberingsomething.
"Gadzooks, madam! I command you not to scream," I quoted sternly.
At that, for the first time in our acquaintance, she laughed; such adelicious, rollicky little laugh that I felt ready, at the sound, to facea dozen fathers and they all old Kings.
As we came chugging up to the house, several faces appeared in the doorwayas if to welcome and scold the runaway. I saw old King with his pipe inhis mouth; and there were Aunt Lodema and Weaver. They were all smiling atthe escapade--Beryl's escapade, that is--and I don't think they realizedjust at f
irst who I was, or that I was in any sense a menace to theirpeace of mind.
When we came opposite and showed no disposition to stop, or even to slowup, I saw the smiles freeze to amazement, and then--but I hadn't the timeto look. Old King yelled something, but by that time we were skiddingaround the first shed, where Shylock had been shot down on my last tripthrough there. It was a new shed, I observed mechanically as we went by.I heard much shouting as we disappeared, but by that time we were almostthrough the gantlet. I made the last turn on two wheels, and scudded awayup the open trail of the pass.