E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Project Gutenberg Beginners Projects,
Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
Or, Rescuing the Runaways
by
1916
Ta-ra! ta-ra! ta-ra-ra-ra! ta-rat!
Professor Krenner took the silver bugle from his lips while the strainechoed flatly from the opposite, wooded hill. That hill was the Isle ofHope, a small island of a single eminence lying half a mile off themainland, and not far north of Freeling.
The shore of Lake Huron was sheathed in ice. It was almost Christmastime. Winter had for some weeks held this part of Michigan in aniron grip. The girls of Lakeview Hall were tasting all the joys ofwinter sports.
The cove at the boathouse (this was the building that some of theLakeview Hall girls had once believed haunted) was now a smooth,well-scraped skating pond. Between the foot of the hill, on the brow ofwhich the professor stood, and the Isle of Hope, the strait was likewisesolidly frozen. The bobsled course was down the hill and across the icytrack to the shore of the island.
Again the professor of mathematics—and architectural drawing—put thekey-bugle to his lips and sent the blast echoing over the white waste:
Ta-ra! ta-ra! ta-ra-ra-ra! ta-rat!
The road from Lakeview Hall was winding, and only a short stretch of itcould be seen from the brow of Pendragon Hill. But the roof and chimneysof the great castle-like Hall were visible above the tree-tops.
Now voices were audible—laughing, sweet, clear, girls' voices, ringinglike a chime of silver bells, as the owners came along the well-beatenpath, and suddenly appeared around an arbor-vitae clump.
"Here they are!" announced the professor, whose red and whitetoboggan-cap looked very jaunty, indeed. He told of the girls' arrival toa boy who was toiling up the edge of the packed and icy slide. WalterMason had been to the bottom of the hill to make sure that no obstaclehad fallen upon the track since the previous day.
"Walter! Hello, Walter!" was the chorused shout of the leading group ofgirls, as the boy reached the elevation where the professor stood.
One of the girls ran to meet him, her cheeks aglow, her lips smiling, andher brown eyes dancing. She looked so much like the boy that there couldbe no doubt of their relationship.
"Hello, Grace!" Walter called to his sister, in response.
But his gaze went past the chubby figure of his shy sister to anothergirl who, with her chum, was in the lead of the four tugging at therope of the gaily painted bobsled. This particular girl's bright andanimated countenance smiled back at Walter cordially, and she waved amittened hand.
"Hi, Walter!" she called.
"Hi, Nan!" was his reply.
The others he welcomed with a genial hail. Bess Harley, who toiled alongbeside her chum, said with a flashing smile and an imp-light ofnaughtiness in either black eye:
"You and Walter Mason are just as thick as leaves on a mulberry tree, NanSherwood! I saw you whispering together the other day when Walter camewith his cutter to take Grace for a ride. Is he going to take you for aspin behind that jolly black horse of his?"
"No, honey," replied Nan, pla