CHAPTER VI

THE MISSING EMERALD

The Nowadays Girls arrived at Fulton Chain at 11:05 in the morning, and stopped for lunch in a little restaurant before taking the branch train that went to Old Forge. Their trip had been a pleasant one, though a trifle tiresome toward the end. But already they were beginning to feel the invigorating mountain air, and it seemed to bring new life to them.

They had been mounting steadily upward, and now were about eighteen hundred feet above sea level. All about them, save for the little settlements, and the open spaces where the blue-tinted lakes broke the continuity, was the vast forest.

"Oh, can't you just smell the balsam!" cried Sylvia, as she breathed in deep of the sweetly scented air.

"They say it makes one sleep," said Rose. "But who would want to sleep up here?"

"No one," assented Hazel. "I just want to get out in the woods, or in a boat, and _live_!"

"It is glorious!" declared Alice. "Just perfectly glorious!"

From Fulton Chain a little railroad ran the two miles, more or less, to Old Forge. This was a village with a summer population of about two thousand, and it was more up-to-date than the girls had expected to find it. The stores were well stocked, and they learned that there was an ever-increasing trade with summer campers and hotel folk. All about the vicinity were many small lakes, the restaurant keeper told the girls, and on the shores were many camping parties. There would be more as the season advanced.

"What are we going to do when we get to Old Forge?" asked Rose.

"Well, that's where we can have a choice of doing several things," Sylvia explained. "You know Old Forge is the gateway, so to speak, to eight small lakes, and they are numbered instead of being named. We can go by canoe or guide-boat, through the eight lakes to Raquette, and so on, travelling any way that suits us, to Saranac. What do you say to canoeing and carrying?"

"The canoeing sounds all right, but what is this carrying?" asked Hazel. "Is it carrying-on?"

"That means you have to carry your canoe," answered Sylvia, with a laugh.

"Why can't you ride in it?"

"Because there isn't any water."

"But you just said there were eight lakes----"

"I know, but look here!" Sylvia spread out a railroad map on the now cleared restaurant table.

"This is how it is," Sylvia explained, for she had made a study of it before proposing the Adirondack trip. "From Old Forge, where we'll go soon, and spend the night, we can canoe through the first four lakes, which are in a sort of chain--like beads, I suppose. Or we can go on a steamer, or in a guide-boat."

"What's a guide-boat?" asked Rose.

"A boat with a guide in it, of course," declared Hazel.

"Not exactly," explained Sylvia. "It's a sort of boat designed by the guides up here. It's a little safer than a canoe, but almost as light, and you can row it or paddle it, and it will stand pretty rough water."

"Well, that sounds interesting," observed Alice. "I'm rather inclined to a guide-boat myself."

"The steamer seems rather attractive," suggested Mrs. Brownley, "but you girls do just as you please. I've been in gondolas on the Grand Canal of Venice, and I'm not going to hold back when it comes to an Adirondack guide-boat!"

"Suppose we leave that question until we get to Old Forge, and look the ground--or, rather, the water--over," suggested Sylvia.

"Good!" assented Hazel.

"It's twelve miles through the first four lakes," went on Sylvia, "and a steamer doesn't seem necessary. Then, after we get to the end of the fourth lake there is a carry of one mile to the sixth lake."

"Just what is a carry?" asked Rose.

"It's where you have to carry your boat, and everything in it, over dry land, from one body of water to another," said Sylvia.

"Do they actually carry the boats--I mean--would _we_ have to?" Hazel wanted to know.

"We wouldn't. The guides, or boatmen, would do that, and they'd carry all our luggage," Sylvia explained. "That's why they use canoes, and very light boats, so they can easily be transported over the land trails. Well, as I said, it's a one-mile carry from the fourth to the sixth lake."

"My, she's a regular guide-book," mocked Alice.

"What about the fifth lake?" asked Rose.

"The carry is around that. It's winding and twisting, and one can make better time going on land. Besides, that little lake may be filled with stumps--and alligators--for all I know."

"Alligators--ugh!" exclaimed Hazel.

"Nonsense! No alligators up here," laughed Rose. "This isn't the Everglades of Florida."

"Go on. What else, Sylvia?" asked Alice.

"Well, you canoe, or boat, through lakes six and seven, and then comes another mile carry to lake eight, and when you get to the end of that you're ready to----"

"Have supper and go to bed," finished Hazel, with a laugh.

"Perhaps," admitted Sylvia. "Anyhow, from the eighth lake to Brown's Tract Inlet, which is the southern end of Raquette, is a carry of a mile and a half."

"Going up!" called Alice, in imitation of an elevator boy.

"Well, that's the last carry for some time," said Sylvia.

"Thank goodness! It makes one tired to think of the poor men carting those boats on their shoulders," cried Hazel.

"Well, now we're supposed to be on Raquette Lake," went on Sylvia, "and that is quite a body of water. The book says there are brook trout, lake trout, whitefish and bass in those waters, but I think they're not all in season now."

"I didn't know fish had seasons, like oysters," murmured Alice.

"Oh, indeed they do," Sylvia declared, "and we must be true sporting girls, and observe the game laws, too, if we do any fishing. If we don't, well, we may be arrested, that's all."

"I'll let the guide do my fishing," murmured Alice, with a look at her slim, white hands, which were set off wonderfully well by the shimmering green emerald.

"Now that's the programme for the first part of our trip," resumed Sylvia. "We can make the lake journey in a day, if we want to, or we can stop off here and there as suits our fancy. We want to get the best possible fun out of this vacation, so I think it's nice not to have any set schedule, except as to where we are going to spend the night."

"Yes, it is always best to arrange for that in advance," agreed Mrs. Brownley. "I wouldn't want any of you to be sleeping out in an open camp in these woods at night. We must bow to some of the conventions, even if you are Nowadays Girls," she added.

They telephoned from Fulton Chain to the inn at Old Forge, and managed to engage rooms. On the little short line of railroad they made the trip, arriving late in the afternoon, and going direct to the hotel. Then, while waiting for supper, they went out to look at the lake, at the end of which is located the quaint and pretty village.

"Oh, it is just perfect here, just perfect," murmured Sylvia. "Aren't all you girls glad you came?"

"Aren't we, though--just!" cried Alice.

"It was sweet of you to think all this out for us," said Hazel.

"Oh, I'm enjoying it as much as you, if not more," was Sylvia's rejoinder. "What's the matter, Rose? Why aren't you talking?" she asked, in lower tones, for Rose was looking silently out over the placid lake. "I imagine we are thinking of the same thing," went on Roy's sister. "Never mind; we'll see him soon."

"I hope so," was the low-voiced answer.

There was to be a public dance at the hotel that night, as a number of summer tourists and campers had arrived on the same train with the girls. Among them were several young men who looked with eager, but perfectly respectful, eyes at the girls.

"I'm sure they can dance," sighed Hazel, "and I do so want a good partner. I wonder if there isn't a public introducer here!"

"Hazel Reed!" gasped Rose.

"That's perfectly proper nowadays," protested the Chicago girl. "It's done all the while, especially during the summer. I'm going to ask Mrs. Brownley."

Aunt Theodora considered the matter from several angles, and, after a talk with the hotel proprietor and his wife, decided that the girls might properly meet the young men. They were well known to the hotel-keeper, and many others present, having been at the same camp for a number of years in succession.

And so with little, delightful flutters of excitement and anticipation, the girls opened their trunks and laid out some simple evening frocks for the dance, which was to be semi-informal.

"Oh, they're playing that lovely Cecile hesitation," murmured Hazel, as she and the others "floated" down to the ballroom, the dining-room having been cleared for the occasion.

The girls found their young men partners no less eager than they themselves, and soon the room presented a merry spectacle. It was the first large hop of the season, rather marking the official opening, in a measure, and the music was particularly good, for the musicians were some college boys who had thus started to earn vacation money to help pay their expenses.

"Oh, isn't it lovely!" whispered Alice, during an interval in the dance.

"Perfectly splendid!" echoed Sylvia. "Have you a good partner?"

"Oh, he dances like a dream!"

"Be careful you don't awaken and find it a nightmare."

"No danger. Oh, look! He's bringing some one up to introduce him, I do believe. I don't care so much for him," and she indicated the youth, who was approaching with her partner.

"Allow me," murmured George Watson, with whom Alice had been dancing, and he presented another youth, who at once asked for a dance, and was not refused, as Alice's partner had asked to take out Sylvia for the next fox trot.

Alice's dislike of her newer acquaintance increased as the dance went on. He was a good dancer, but he talked too much, and asked too many questions, not altogether conventional. And he held Alice's hand in too firm a grasp. She tried to impress her dislike on him without voicing it in so many words, but he would not take a hint.

"That was fine!" he exclaimed, as they stood together in the middle of the room, and applauded for an encore. "Wasn't it?" and he looked rather too boldly into her eyes.

"The music is very nice--yes," she assented, a bit coldly. Then the strains began again, and they danced off.

It was when Alice went with Sylvia to get a glass of lemonade, after the sixth dance, that she made a discovery.

"Oh, my emerald ring!" she exclaimed, looking hastily down at the floor. "It's gone--it isn't on my finger!"

"Are you sure you wore it downstairs?" asked Sylvia, knowing what a commotion a report of anything valuable being lost occasions at a hotel, and how much suspicion is cast thereby.

"Of course I had it. I remember that Mr. Watson remarked upon it, and when I danced with the fellow he introduced--I think his name was Tupson--the ring really hurt my hand, he squeezed it so!"

"Oh, Alice!"

"Well, he did! But my lovely emerald is gone, and it's worth I don't know how much! I must speak to the proprietor right away."

"Tell Aunt Theodora first," suggested Sylvia. "But make sure it hasn't slipped off into your glass of lemonade, or fallen into a fold of your dress. Was the ring loose enough to come off easily?"

"Yes, too easily. My fingers seem to have shrunk, lately. I intended to have the ring made smaller. But now it's gone. Oh, dear!" and there were traces of tears in her eyes.