CORA'S QUEER PLIGHT Springing to the back of one of the big field horses, Farmer Stevens responded to the frantic summons of the auto horn, and started with the pair up the hill to the assistance of Cora, and the righting of her car, that almost swung between the narrow ledge of land, and the great gulf of mountainous space that lay just beneath the banked up highway. "Oh, I am so afraid that Cora is hurt," wailed Belle. "We can't see her, and she must have been tossed over into the tonneau of the car." "She was on the right hand forward seat," gasped Bess, as both girls ran along to the spot where the _Whirlwind_ was ditched, "but she may have sprung out to avoid being thrown down the gully." Although Bess was but a short distance behind Cora when the latter's car met with the mishap, it now seemed a long space of roadway that lay between them. Of course Bess had to bring her car to a safe place, at the side of the thoroughfare, and Belle had to help some, so that it had taken a minute or two to do this, before they could run to Cora. In the meantime Mr. Stevens came along with his horses, and Hope, signalled by the tooting of the horn of the _Flyaway_, had called two of his hired men from the fields, so that the ditched auto and the danger to its driver met with ready assistance. "Oh, if Cora should be----" Then Belle checked herself. She had an unfortunate habit of predicting trouble. Mr. Stevens left his horses by the rail fence through which the _Whirlwind_ had passed without hesitation, and Bess was beside him just as he reached the big car. "Oh, where is she!" wailed the girl, unable longer to restrain her fears. There was the car, partly overturned but seemingly not damaged. Neither within nor without was there a sign of Cora! "She must have been thrown down the embankment," said the man anxiously. "She surely is not with the machine." Bess now joined Belle and ran to the edge of the cliff. Almost afraid to look, they peered over the brink. "Where can she be?" breathed Belle, her hands clasped nervously. "Cora! Cora, dear!" called Bess. "Where are you?" "Here!" came what seemed to be a very faint reply. "Where?" shouted the girls, now making their way down, step by step, over the perilous cliffs. Farmer Stevens knew every inch of that hill. He often had to rescue from its uncertainties either a sheep or a young cow. He also knew that precisely where the machine was ditched, the hill shelved to a perfectly straight bank, so that instead of an incline the wall of earth actually seemed to run under the surface. "If she went over there," he told himself, "she never stopped until--she landed." "Oh, Cora!" called the girls again, "can't you tell us where you are?" "Look out there, young ladies," cautioned Mr. Stevens, "or you may go down--double quick!"