A Campfire Girl's Test of Friendship Part 23

"I suppose I must," gasped Eleanor tearfully. "But you shall pay for this, you scoundrel! You're tricking me in some fas.h.i.+on, but you can't deceive me, and you can't keep the truth quiet forever."

Then there was the sound of retreating footsteps, and a few minutes later Bessie and Zara were released by Jeff, who was grinning as if it had been a great joke.

"Well, sis, we're off now!" he said. "Come on! I don't want to be hard on you. Come out here in the pa.s.sageway, and you can have a look at the sh.o.r.e as we go off."

He led them to the stern, and to the little cabin, in which was a porthole. Looking out, Bessie saw the beach indistinctly. The ruined tents were there, and several of the girls, in bathing suits. And, swimming slowly to the sh.o.r.e she saw a girl in a red cap, which, as she knew, belonged to Dolly. How she longed to be able to call to her! But Jeff was at her side, and she knew that the attempt would be useless, since he was watching her as if he had been a cat and she a mouse.

A bell clanged somewhere below them, and the next moment there was a rumbling sound as the machinery was started. At the same moment there came the grinding of the anchor chains as they were raised. But the yacht did not move! Even after the anchor was up there was no movement except the throbbing of the whole vessel as the engines raced in the hold! Jeff's face grew black, and he turned toward the pa.s.sage with a scowl.

"What's wrong here?" he shouted, going to the door. At the same moment, seizing her brief chance, Bessie gave a wild scream, and saw, to her delight, that those on sh.o.r.e had heard it. In a moment she was pulled roughly from the porthole, and Jeff, his face savage and all the kindness gone out of it, scowled down at her.

"Keep quiet, you little vixen!" he shouted. "Here, come with me!"

At the foot of some steps that led up to the deck he left the two girls in the care of Larry, one of the two men she had seen the night before.

"Keep them quiet," he commanded, as he sprang up the steps. "What's wrong, Larry; do you know?"

"Something the matter with the propeller. Can't tell what," said Larry.

And above, on the deck, there was a wild rus.h.i.+ng about now. Orders were shouted to the engineers below; hoa.r.s.e answers came back. The engines were stopped and started again. But still the yacht did not move. A grimy engineer came up and stood beside her.

"Propeller's fouled," he said to Jeff. "We'll have to send a man overboard to clear it."

"How long will that take?" roared Jeff.

"Maybe an hour--if we're lucky."

"You're a fine engineer, not to have the boat ready to start!" screamed Jeff, mad with rage. "You'll lose your berth for this!"

"Guess I can get another," replied the engineer calmly. "It's been done on purpose and it's the business of the deck watch to keep the stern clear, not mine."

With frantic haste a man was sent overboard. He dived and found the propeller. Bessie heard his report. The screw was twisted around with rope--knotted and tied so that, even with a knife he would have to make many descents to clear it. Without a diving suit it was impossible for the man to stay under water more than half a minute at a time, and, as it turned out, he was the only man on board who could dive at all.

Jeff raged in vain. The work of clearing the propeller could not be hastened for all his bellowing, and the precious minutes slipped by while the diver worked. Each time that he came up for rest and air he reported a little more progress, but each time, too, as he grew tired, his period of rest was lengthened, while his time below the water was cut shorter.

And then, when he had reported that two more trips would mend the trouble, there was a sudden b.u.mping of boats against the yacht, on the sh.o.r.eward side, which had been left without watchers, it seemed, and there was a rush of feet overhead. Bessie cried out in joy, and the next instant a dozen men tumbled down the steps and overpowered Larry.

"Are you Bessie King?" asked their leader. "I've got a search warrant empowering me to search this yacht for you and one Zara Doe and take you ash.o.r.e."

"We're the ones! Take us!" pleaded Bessie.

And, sobbing with joy, she went up the steps to the deck. There Jeff, furious but powerless in the grip of two men, watched her go over the side and into a small boat in which sat Eleanor, who threw her arms joyously about the recovered captives. Dolly was there, too, and she kissed and hugged Bessie as soon as Eleanor was done.

"The men got here in time from Bay City," said Eleanor. "Thank Heaven! A few minutes more, and they would have been too late. I telephoned as soon as I could, and I knew the district attorney there was a friend of Charlie Jamieson. He came at once with his men."

"The propeller was fouled. That's why they couldn't get away," said Bessie. "Wasn't that lucky?"

Dolly snorted.

"Luck nothing!" she said, perkily. "I swam out with a rope, and they never saw me! I was there, diving up and down, for half an hour. I thought they'd have a lovely time getting it clear when the knots I made had swollen up!"

"Yes, it was Dolly who saved the day," said Eleanor.

"Shall we row you ash.o.r.e, ma'am, or do you want to see the rest of the fun on board?" asked one of the oarsmen.

"Take us ash.o.r.e, please. I'll hear all about it later," said Eleanor.

And in five minutes the Camp Fire Girls were reunited.

THE CAMPFIRE GIRLS SERIES

A CAMPFIRE GIRL'S FIRST COUNCIL FIRE

A CAMPFIRE GIRL'S CHUM

A CAMPFIRE GIRL IN SUMMER CAMP

A CAMPFIRE GIRL'S ADVENTURE

A CAMPFIRE GIRL'S TEST OF FRIENDs.h.i.+P

A CAMPFIRE GIRL'S HAPPINESS