“No help for it, girls,” announced Jack, after a hurried examination of the conditions. “We’ll have to run for it. I caught a glimpse of the bungalow a minute ago, and it’s not far from here. We’ll have to leave the cars here and come back and cut a path for them after the storm’s over.”
“But suppose they should be stolen?” objected Belle.
“Mighty little chance of that in this neck of the woods,” replied Paul. “You notice we haven’t met any one for the last two hours. We’ll put up the tops so that the inside won’t get wet. And there’ll be some one at the bungalow that we can send out to guard them and keep you from worrying about them.”
“Now we’ve got to make tracks for the house. Come ahead, girls!” cried Jack, as soon as the tops had been put up.
Each of the boys took charge of one of the girls, and they skirted the tree, pushing their way through the underbrush till they reached the road on the other side.
The outdoor life of the Motor Girls had made them fleet and strong, and although of course with their clinging skirts they could not keep up with the boys, the latter accommodated their pace to theirs, and they came in sight of the bungalow in a few minutes.
But the rain was coming, too, and it was a pretty race. They could see it being driven before the wind in great gusts, and they felt the pattering of the advance drops. And just as they gained the shelter of the bungalow porch, the rain came down in torrents.
Their coming had been seen from the house, and Aunt Betty King came running out to meet them.
“You darlings!” she cried, as she tried to gather all the girls at once into her arms, and kissed them in turn. “How glad I am to see you! I’ve been watching for you for the last two hours and was beginning to worry for fear you wouldn’t get here before dark. And how lucky you were to get here ahead of the storm. But how on earth did you come?”
“We ran here all the way from Chelton,” said Jack with a sober face. “How is that for Marathon work?”