“Oh! you couldn’t help it,” Cora said, her chums murmuring their agreement.
“Well, I meant all right,” Miss Magin went on, “but I cost my friend more than if I hadn’t a’ been so soft-hearted wanting to help out those fellows who told a hard-luck story.”
“They’ll be caught some day,” declared Bess. “Printing bogus theatrical tickets isn’t easily done. Care has to be used, and sooner or later those fellows will be arrested.”
“The sooner the better,” said Cora. “I want my car back.”
The girls and the manager talked for some little time longer about the happenings of the night before. Presently a man alighted from a taxicab, or rather, one of the town’s few jitney cars, and entered the tea room. He looked rather sharply at our friends – at least so Cora thought – and, taking a seat at a table not far away, ordered a cup of coffee and a sandwich.
He spoke casually to the waitress, and as Miss Magin, as was her custom, walked up to see if the service was satisfactory, he spoke also to her pleasantly, and she replied.
“Was it one of the young ladies here who recently purchased some bogus theatre tickets?” the man asked, after some casual remarks.
“I hope you haven’t any more to sell!” retorted the manager, a bit sharply.
“No. I am a detective sent out by the agency which prints theatre tickets for many shows. This isn’t the first time we have had trouble, and I want, if possible, to get on the track of the persons responsible. Do you mind telling me all you can of this?”
Of course Miss Magin was only too glad to do so, and, incidentally, she mentioned the loss of Cora’s automobile. Naturally that brought our friends into the conversation, and the detective, who introduced himself as Mr. Boswell, went over to the girls’ table. He spoke of having been for some time unsuccessfully on the trail of the bogus ticket sellers.
“Taking automobiles is a new line for their activities, though,” said Mr. Boswell. “This may make it easier to catch them.”
“Of course,” suggested Cora, “we are not altogether certain that the same persons who sold Miss Magin the tickets took my auto.”
“Very likely they were,” declared the detective. “They probably realized that they had done all the illegitimate business possible in this neighborhood, and they wanted to get as far away as they could before the fact about the tickets became known. An auto offered the simplest means.”
“I should have locked the ignition switch,” said Cora. “I usually do when I get out. But we thought we would stay only a little while, so I didn’t do it this time.”
“Too bad,” said Mr. Boswell. “If I get on the track of your car, Miss Kimball, I’ll let you know.”
He made a memorandum of the description of the two men as furnished by Miss Magin, and took his departure, promising to let Cora hear from him in case anything developed.
“More of the mystery,” remarked Bess, as she and the others were on their way back in the automobile. “What with this and what may happen at Camp Surprise, I can see we are in for a busy summer.”
And busy enough the girls were during the next week. There were trunks to pack, messages to send to the caretakers at the camp, dresses to have finished in time, and many odds and ends to be looked after before leaving for so long a time.
“There’s a nice dancing pavilion not far away,” Cora told her chums. “And of course there’ll be one or two formal affairs at a neighboring hotel.”
Hazel Hastings had come on to be Cora’s guest and was staying at the Kimball house. She was the same sweet girl as before, though a little older, and not quite so timid as she had been.
Paul was the same jolly chap, quite engrossed in his automobile business, but not so much so that he could not enjoy the little outing in prospect.
“I’ve sent a description of your car, with the number of it, the number of the engine and other identifying marks, to all the second hand dealers,” he told Cora. “If it’s offered for sale to any one in the dealers’ association I’ll hear of it and there’s a chance that we’ll get it back for you.
“Of course there are some ‘outlaw dealers’ who do not belong to the association, and who might take a chance on buying a stolen car,” said the young automobile agent. “But we can’t help that. I think we’ll get your machine sooner or later.”
Cora was grateful for Paul’s efforts, but she had about given up hope. The police had secured no clews, and, though they professed to be active, there really was little for them to do.
The motor boat had been overhauled and put in shape for the trip up the Chelton river. Though the craft offered accommodations for sleeping on board they did not plan to use the berths on this occasion. They were to make an early start and reach Riverhead, the end of navigation on the Chelton, early in the afternoon. From Riverhead they would go to Camp Surprise in wagons of the buckboard type, made with wooden slats for springs, very comfortable to ride in over rough roads.
The boys were to go with the girls, Jack and his sister acting as chaperons for the others until camp was reached, when Mr. and Mrs. Floyd would perform this office.
Light baggage would be taken with them on the boat, the trunks being sent on ahead.
“And we’ll take lunch along, of course,” Bess said.
“Of course,” echoed her sister. “We don’t want to go hungry any more than do you.”
The day of departure came at last. Bess and Belle were early at Cora’s house, and found her, Jack, Paul and Hazel busy making the final preparations.
The valises and bundles were carried down to the motor boat, good-byes were said over and over again, various cautions were given by Mrs. Kimball and Mrs. Robinson, and then Cora, standing at the wheel of the craft, steered out into the middle of the pretty stream.
“Off for Camp Surprise!” she cried gaily.
CHAPTER VII – JACK’S BATH
Out into the sunlit Chelton river swung the smart motor boat with Cora at the wheel. The sun glinted on the water, it reflected from the polished brass rail and the white forward deck of the craft, it sparkled from the brass letters of the name —Corbelbes, and danced in javelins of light on the little waves.
The Corbelbes was the latest name of the motor boat which had been variously christened at times. The craft was owned jointly by Cora, Belle and Bess, and in accordance with their agreement they had in turn the privilege of naming it, such name to be used during a whole season.
In turn the girls had adopted various more or less classical nomenclature. Each one’s time having expired, it came to Cora again, and she confessed that she did not know what to select.
“Let me name the boat for you,” suggested Jack. “I’ve thought of a swell name.”
“Something ridiculous, I’m sure of that,” ventured Cora.
“No, something really classy. How’s this,” and Jack quickly printed on a piece of paper the name now glinting on either bow of the craft.
“Corbelbes,” repeated his sister. “That isn’t half bad. What is it, Spanish or Latin?”
“It’s French for curling iron and face powder,” laughed Jack.
“You mean thing!”
“No, it isn’t, Sis. Don’t you see, it’s the first part of the names of all three of you.”
“Oh, so it is.” Cora was smiling now.
“What