CHAPTER IV
MORE GOOD-BYES
"They'll feel better presently," he remarked, rejoining Bob and Betty onthe platform. "I know the boarding house they've chosen is fine in everyway and they're going to have a delightful winter."
The train started slowly, and the black silk gloves of the aunts waveddolorously from the window. They were embarked on their adventure.
"Don't look so solemn, Betty," teased her uncle. "If I'm not mistakenthat's the smoke from my train. I don't want any one to weep over mydeparture."
"I could, but I won't," Betty assured him bravely. "You won't get sick oranything, will you, Uncle Dick? And you'll write to me every week?"
"Like a clock," he promised her. "There goes the agent with my bags--thisis the local, all right. Good-bye, Bob. Remember what I've asked of you."
Mr. Gordon wrung Bob's hand and smiled down into the blue eyes lifted sofervently to his.
"You're my boy, too," he said clearly. "Don't forget, lad, if you needme."
Then he swept Betty into his arms.
"Be a good girl, Sweetheart," he murmured, kissing her.
They watched him climb up the steps of the snorting, smoky local, saw hisbags tossed into the baggage car, and then, with a shrill grinding ofwheels, the training resumed its way. As long as they could see, the tallfigure in the gray suit stood on the platform and waved a whitehandkerchief to them.
"Oh, Bob, don't let me cry," begged Betty, in a sudden panic."Everybody's watching us. Let's go somewhere, quick."
"All right, we will," promised Bob. "We'll take the car to DoctorMorrison. Hop in, Betsey, and dry your eyes. You're going travelingyourself day after to-morrow."
"I wasn't really crying," explained Betty as she settled herself in theshabby car that had belonged to her uncle; he had sold it to the townphysician. "But doesn't it give you a lonesome feeling to be the onethat's left? I hate to say good-bye, anyway."
Bob's experience with motors was rather limited, and what slightknowledge he possessed had been gained in a few lessons taken whileriding with Mr. Gordon. However, the boy was sure that he could drive thecar the brief distance to the doctor's house, and Betty shared hisconfidence. From the Morrison house it was only a short walk to theWatterby farm, where they were to stay until they left for the East.
Betty forgot to cry as Bob started the car so suddenly that it shotforward like a live thing. He jammed on the brake and brought it to astandstill so abruptly that Betty came very near to pitching through thewindshield.
"Couldn't you do it--er--more gently?" she hinted delicately.
"Hold fast and I'll try," grinned Bob. "As a chauffeur I'd be agood iceman."
The second time he managed better, and the battered little car moved offwith less disturbing results.
In a very few minutes they had reached Doctor Morrison's garage.
The doctor urged Bob and Betty strongly to stay to supper with him andpromised beaten biscuit and honey, but although they knew the skill ofhis old Southern cook very well, they had promised Grandma Watterby to bethere for supper and such a promise could not be disregarded.
"Well, anyway," said Betty soothingly, as they walked on toward theWatterby farm, "when we ride Clover and Reuben up to the fields we won'thave to worry about how to make them go."
"No, that's so," agreed Bob. "But, Betty, I hate to think of giving upReuben. He isn't much to look at, but he has been a mighty good horse."
"I'd feel worse," declared Betty, "if we had to sell them to strangers.We wouldn't know how they would be treated then. Now we are sure theywill be cared for and petted and they won't miss us."
Reuben and Clover, Mr. Gordon had said, were to be disposed of as Bettyand Bob chose. The horses were theirs to give away or sell as theypreferred. Bob had instantly decided to give his mount to Dave Thorne,the section foreman, who had shown him many kindnesses and who wasdelighted to get a trained saddle horse. Horses were very scarce in thatsection of the country, and Mr. Gordon had gone to considerable troubleto get these.
Betty had elected to give Clover to the new superintendent's daughter,the girl who was to move with her parents into the old Saundersfarmhouse. Betty had never seen her, but knew she was about fourteen orfifteen and eager to learn to ride.
The day before they were to start for Washington, Bob and Betty rode thehorses up to the oil fields and gave them into the charge of DaveThorne. The superintendent was already on the ground but his family andfurniture were not due for a week.
Clover and Reuben bore the parting better than their young mistress andmaster, and Betty was glad when all the good-byes had been said and theystepped into the Watterby car which Mrs. Watterby had driven up for them.The fields were about eight miles from her house.
"You'll be happier when once you're on the train, Betty," said good Mrs.Watterby, glancing swiftly at Betty's clouded face, "This going aroundsaying good-bye to people and things is enough to break anybody up. Nowto-morrow me and mother won't weep a tear over you--you'll see. We'reglad you're going to school to have a good time with all those youngfolks. Now what's that Chinaman want?"
Lee Chang came running from the bunk house, waving something tied inwhite paper.
"Apple tart, Miss Betty!" he called imploringly. "Velly nice appletart--maybe the cook at that school no make good tarts."
Betty took the package and thanked him warmly and they drove on.
"People are so good to me," choked the girl. "I never knew I had somany friends."
"Well, that's nothing to cry over," advised Bob philosophically. "Youought to be glad. Do I get a crumb of the tart, Betsey?"
He spoke with a purpose and was rewarded by seeing Betty's own sunnysmile come out.
"You always do," she told him. "But wait till we get home. I want Ki tohave a piece, too."
Ki, it developed, when they reached the Watterby farm, had been busy withfarewell plans of his own.
"For you," he announced gravely to Bob, handing him an immense huntingknife as he stepped out of the car.
"For you," he informed Betty with equal gravity, presenting her a littlesilver nugget.
They both thanked him repeatedly, and he stalked off, carrying his pieceof the apple tart and apparently assured of their sincerity.
"Though what he expects me to do with a hunting knife is more than I canguess," laughed Bob.
Betty Gordon at Boarding School; Or, The Treasure of Indian Chasm Page 4
