car had a chance to realize it, the Fire Bird had whizzed across the bridge and was brought to a quick stop on the other side.
“Whew!” gasped Ned, as he tried to open the paralyzed hands that seemed grown fast to the steering wheel.
“Look at that!” cried Nat, as he leaped from the car and pointed back toward the bridge. “We broke two planks in the very middle, and only the fast rate we clipped over them saved us from going down!”
“What an escape!” cried Tavia as she jumped from her seat.
“Is the car damaged?” asked Dorothy, as she too alighted to stand beside her chum.
“Something happened to the radiator when we hit the rail and broke it,” said Ned, as he saw water escaping from the honey-comb reservoir. “But I guess it won’t amount to much. It isn’t leaking badly. The idea of the county having a picture bridge over a river! Why there’s a swift current here, and it’s mighty deep. Just look at that black whirlpool near the eddy. If we’d gone down there what the machine left of us would have been nicely cooled off at any rate!”
The two boys were soon busy examining the car, while Dorothy and Tavia stood in the road.
“Wasn’t it dreadful!” exclaimed Dorothy. “I do believe we ought not to go auto riding – something happens every time we go out.”
“And to think that I knew about the bridge!” whispered Tavia. “Only yesterday I saw it and noticed how unsafe it was. Then I forgot all about it. Oh, Dorothy! If anything had happened it would have been my fault!”
CHAPTER II
TAVIA HAS PLANS
Dorothy threw her arms about Tavia, and, for a few moments the two girls were locked in each other’s embrace. The reaction, following their lucky escape from almost certain death, had unnerved them. Nor were the two boys altogether free from a shaky feeling, as they carefully looked over the car to see if it had suffered any further damage than the leaky radiator.
“Think she’ll do?” asked Nat.
“Guess so,” replied his brother. “My, but that was as close a call as I have ever had.”
“Me too. I guess we’d better take a breathing spell before we go on.”
The boys sat down on a grassy bank, and the girls followed their example. They looked back over the bridge, and at the two broken planks that had nearly proved their undoing. Through the spaces, where the flooring was torn up, the black, swirling waters could be seen.
While the auto party are resting until they have somewhat gotten over the fright caused by their narrow escape, let me tell something of Dorothy and her friends. As set forth in the first book of this series, “Dorothy Dale; A Girl of To-Day,” the girl was the daughter of Major Frank Dale, a veteran of the Civil War. He ran a weekly newspaper, called The Bugle in Dalton, a small town in New York state. Dorothy’s mother had died some years previous. The girl had two brothers, younger than herself, named Joe and Roger.
Dorothy took part in a temperance crusade in Dalton and had much to do in unraveling the mystery of an unfortunate man given to drink. He left a small fortune to his daughter, whose whereabouts were unknown, and Dorothy succeeded in finding her. In her work the girl was much hampered by a man named Anderson, who sought to do her bodily harm, and who was at the bottom of the mystery concerning the daughter of the unfortunate man.
Dorothy proved herself a brave girl, and, with the help of Tavia, who became her especial chum, did much to aid several persons in Dalton.
In the second volume, “Dorothy Dale at Glenwood School” there I related how Dorothy and her father came upon better days. Major Dale fell heir to quite a sum of money, and could give up the newspaper.
Dorothy was sent to Glenwood School, where Tavia accompanied her. The two girls had many exciting times there, and Dorothy was suspected of something for which she was not to blame, suffering much in consequence of her desire to shield another girl. There was much fun at the school, in spite of this, however including a queer walking match and a strange initiation.
Dorothy and her father moved to North Birchland, the home of Mrs. Winthrop White, Mr. Dale’s sister. Anderson, the man who had caused Dorothy so much trouble turned up again, but was eventually sent to jail.
After the holidays Dorothy and Tavia returned to school, where we find them at the opening of this story. They had become friends of nearly all the students, though, as is natural, had made some enemies, as what girl does not?
Now the party on the roadside prepared to start off again.
“I can’t forgive myself for not remembering about the dangerous state of the bridge,” went on Tavia, when Ned and Nat had announced that the auto was fit to continue its journey.
“Of course it wasn’t your fault,” said Dorothy.
“Yes it was,” insisted Tavia. “You wouldn’t have forgotten it, Doro, dear!”
And, to give Dorothy credit, she would not have been so thoughtless. But she was a different type of girl from Tavia. It was the way she had been brought up, as much as her own character, that caused this difference. Good breeding is not a virtue, it is a blessing: hence in considering such a gift we admire the fortunate possessor, just as we esteem the beauty of the cultured rose, and, naturally compare it favorably when placed next to some coarse untrained wild flower.
So it was with our two friends, Dorothy and Tavia. Dorothy was well bred, and could always be relied upon, for the good breeding was nicely coupled with a kindness of heart that composed a charming character. Though Dorothy had no mother her aunt, Mrs. Winthrop White almost filled that place in the girl’s heart.
The White family, with whom Dorothy, her father and two brothers had gone to live, since the advent of the legacy, consisted of Mrs. White and her two sons, Nat and Ned. Mr. White had died some years ago, while engaged in a scientific expedition.
Not having a daughter of her own Dorothy’s Aunt Winnie was especially fond of her pretty niece, and, as the girl could barely remember her own mother, she lavished her affection on her father’s sister.
Dorothy’s affection, love and devotion to her father was of a different type from that given to any other living creature, not excepting her own darling brothers, Joe and Roger, and Roger had almost grown up in his sister’s arms, for he had been a tiny baby when his mother was called away.
It was in Dalton that Dorothy had met and learned to love Tavia. The Travers family, of whom Tavia was the most interesting member, lived not far from the Dale homestead. Tavia had grown up with Dorothy, as her most intimate friend and companion, and it was Dorothy’s love for Tavia that had wrought miracles for the girl who lacked proper home training, for her parents were of that class generally designated as improvident.
Tavia always ignored the saving rules of correct society, and, being naturally bright, and strangely pretty was, now that she was in her fifteenth year, in a fair way to be spoiled by those who delighted to hear her witty nonsense, and who looked upon her frolics as entertaining in an otherwise stupid old world.
“Well, shall we go along now?” asked Ned, as he again took his place at the steering wheel.
“Yes, but go slow,” begged Tavia. “We can go home by a different road. We have lots of time, before we have to be back to Glenwood School for tea.”
“Slow it is,” replied Ned, not at all sorry that he could take it easy after the strenuous time. Dorothy had many questions to ask her cousins – all about her father’s rheumatism – whether the electric treatment was doing him as much good as the doctors had promised – how her brothers were getting on at school – how strange it seemed to have Roger at school! – and scores of other things. But she always came back to her father or the boys – to Roger – she could scarcely imagine her baby brother running home to Aunt Winnie with his book under his arm.
While Ned and Dorothy were thus busy with family affairs, Nat and Tavia, seated on the rear seat, were discussing purely personal matters. Nat told of the tour he and his brother had made from North Birchland,