CHAPTER IX

ONWARD

"Oh--oh, Rose!" gasped Hazel. "You--you've done it!"

"What has she done--killed him?" gasped Alice.

"Don't say such silly things!" chided Sylvia. "Come on and see!"

She darted forward, the short, golfing skirt she wore being no hindrance to her speed, but quick as Sylvia was, Rose was off ahead of her. She had cast her driver aside, and her face was now rather pale. The caddies followed, giving voice to various expressions.

Rose was first to reach the bunker. She found a very much dazed youth sitting up, holding a cap in one hand, while with the other he was rubbing his head.

"Oh! are you--hurt?" Rose gasped, kneeling down beside him.

"Just a little--little knock," he answered, cheerfully--as cheerfully as possible under the circumstances. "Who--who did it? Oh, it was a golf ball. I see," and he looked at the checkered sphere of white gutta percha that lay in the sand on the far side of the bunker.

"I did it," confessed Rose. "I called 'fore!' but I didn't see you until after I drove off. My friends called to me, but too late. I hope you're not badly hurt?"

"Hardly at all. My cap is quite thick. But it serves me right, anyhow. I ought not to have crossed the course. Now you girls are even with me," and he started to rise.

"Even with you?" repeated Sylvia, as she held out a brown and muscular hand to help him to his feet, for he seemed dizzy and weak.

"Yes. I'm the chap whose paddle broke in the canoe the time it ran into one that one of you girls was in. You've paid your score!" and he smiled, grimly.

"Oh! As if----" began Rose, now blushing to match her name.

"Of course I was only joking," he said, quickly. "Thank you," he went on to Sylvia. "It did knock me out a bit. I thought it was a lightning stroke, though I hadn't seen any clouds before I crossed the links."

"Oh, are you sure you're all right?" asked Rose, anxiously, while the circle of caddies stood in an outer ring, grinning sympathetically.

"Oh, yes, as right as ever," he said, saying nothing about the ache of his head. "Serves me right for crossing where I'd no business to. I'll go back, and you can go on with your game."

"Are you sure you're all right?" insisted Sylvia. She recognised the youth now as one of the party that owned the big canoe.

"Positive," he answered, with a cheerfulness he did not altogether feel. "Allow me to restore your golf ball," he went on, picking up the one Rose had driven. "It doesn't seem to be harmed any," he went on, whimsically. "I think you ought to be allowed to take that shot over again. The ball was travelling pretty well when I interfered with it, and I'm sure you would get a better lay than this," and he indicated the sand.

"Yes, drive over again," suggested Alice.

The young fellow bowed pleasantly, winked at the caddies and walked back in the direction whence he had come when his course was so suddenly interrupted.

"No more crossing of golf courses for me!" he said, emphatically.

The girls insisted on Rose taking her drive again, and she went far beyond the bunker. Then the others, in turn, drove off from the tee, and the game was on.

Never was golf played under more ideal conditions. True, the girls had played on better and larger links, but this was a new locality for them, and every now and then they would pause to gaze off at the distant mountains, to look down at the little blue lakes or take deep breaths of the balsam-laden air.

"Oh, it's too nice, almost, to play golf," sighed Sylvia. "I want to be in the woods--just in the woods."

"You'll be in the ditch in a minute, if you don't watch where you're driving," declared Alice. "Come on, play the game."

The girls were evenly matched, and even the caddies became interested in the impromptu contest.

"Say!" declared one youngster, "they are the real article all right. They sure can swing the clubs!"

It was his best and most sincere compliment, and Rose, whose second long, lifting drive had called it forth, smiled in a gratified way. She preferred a tribute such as that to one more or less half-hearted from some older and more sophisticated admirer.

Sylvia and Rose won by a small margin, much to their delight, especially Rose's, for she was an enthusiast, though the other girls were good players, too.

"Well, now for some tea, and then we'll freshen up for the dance to-night," suggested Hazel, as she removed her yellow chamois gloves. "I feel just like a dance!" and she curved and pivoted over the grass.

"We certainly are having a fine time here," declared Sylvia, "but we must not forget our plan to go on to Saranac. I know Roy will be anxious to see us, now that he knows we are coming. And I do so want to see him, and know that he is getting better."

"We all do, my dear," said Alice.

"There was no word to-day; was there?" asked Rose.

"No, I told the folks at home to relay the messages here every second day, as we could not tell just where we would be. But what do you girls say now to starting on through the Chain to-morrow, or next day?"

"Whatever you say," said Hazel. "They told me at the hotel there was good fishing around here, in some of the Fulton Chain lakes, and I'm anxious to try."

"Let's go fishing before we start on our trip!" proposed Rose, and Sylvia assented.

The next day they engaged boats and guides--two boats for four of them, and began to try their luck.

The girls at once won the admiration of the fishermen, for neither Sylvia, Rose, Hazel nor Alice was afraid to bait her own hook, and they could remove the fish once they had landed them.

"Oh, what luck!" cried Rose, as she hooked a large lake trout. She played her catch well, and brought him exhausted to the side of the guide-boat, to the envy of her companions.

But Sylvia was not far behind, with a good-sized bass. The season had opened only a few days before, so that the fish had not been thinned out.

Alice and Hazel had fair luck also.

"Well, those girls certainly can do anything!" declared one of the members of the porch rocking-chair brigade as the four came back with strings of fish. "I wonder their folks allow them to rough it in this fashion."

"Why, they are with that delightful Southern lady," said a companion. "She is chaperoning them."

"Humph! I don't call it much chaperoning when she sits on a porch all day reading, and lets the girls go off with the fishermen."

"The fishermen around here are the finest men you could meet," was the quick answer. "I and several of my friends have been out with them. They are real gentlemen!"

"Humph!" sniffed the other. "They don't look it!"

There was a last dance at the hotel, a dance that brought forth many expressions of regret from the young men who had enjoyed the company of the Nowadays Girls.

"Will you stop here on your way back?" had been an oft-repeated question.

"Perhaps," Sylvia said, with a smile.

Once more they were going onward. They engaged guide-boats and guides and started up the Fulton Chain for Raquette Lake, where they intended to spend some time.

"And there we'll get a motor boat," said Sylvia, "and do a bit of exploring."

"That will be jolly!" cried Rose.

With their luggage, they took their places in the guide-boats, and the start was made. It is twelve miles from Old Forge to the head of Fourth Lake of the Fulton Chain, where the first carry must be made. They had made an early start, and intended to have lunch in the open at the beginning of the carry, which they reached in due course.

"All out!" cried Sylvia, as the boats grounded on the shore. "All out, and get ready for lunch!"