Chapter II: Part 2

“Is everything all right?” Ardeth echoed, starting to air the bed. “What could go wrong so early in the morning?”

“I was just wondering, that’s all,” Judy answered, deciding to postpone the tale of the flute until after breakfast. “What smells so utterly delicious?”

“Bacon. Miss Ward and Virginia are cooking it. We’ve been assigned to the dishes.”

Judy dressed speedily, helped Ardeth tidy the bedroom, and was ready in time to help carry dishes to the breakfast table.

Miss Ward herself broached the subject of the strange sounds which had been heard in the basement during the night.

“I don’t wish to alarm anyone,” she asserted, pouring hot chocolate. “I feel though, that if we are to stay here, we must be on the alert. Furthermore, I intend to ask Mr. Krumm for an explanation. I am sure there is one, and that he can provide it.”

“If he will,” Judy added. “He certainly wasn’t passing out any information when he rented this cottage. I don’t know what to do about Aunt Mattie.”

“Fortunately, she won’t be here for a day or two,” Miss Ward replied. “We’ll have a little time in which to try to clear up the situation.”

As was to be expected, Ardeth and Virginia expressed keen disappointment at having missed out on the excitement. They asked a dozen questions, and spent the entire breakfast period speculating upon the nature of the mysterious basement sounds.

“Calico Cottage has a ghost!” Virginia insisted gaily. “How thrilling! And a boy who plays a flute is far more interesting than an ordinary apparition.”

“How do you know it’s a boy ghost?” Ardeth demanded. “For all we know, it may be an old man or a beautiful lady in white. My, I wish we could get down into the cellar!”

“I can see you leading the way!” Virginia teased. “Anyway, we have a more urgent problem.”

“That little dog,” interposed Judy, her face becoming grave. “Something must be done to get him out of the cave.”

Miss Ward told the girls that she had tried very early that morning to get in touch with Bart Ranieau. Though she had telephoned at seven o’clock, he already had left his rooming house and was off on his route.

“He may come this way,” she remarked hopefully. “If he does, perhaps we can flag him down. Otherwise, I’ll call the forest ranger headquarters in the village.”

Breakfast finished, Judy and Ardeth cleared the table and made a fast and furious attack upon the dishes. As they rushed about, stacking china neatly in the cupboards, they kept an attentive ear trained on the cellar area. The only sounds came from out-of-doors.

“If Miss Ward hadn’t backed up your story about that flute player, I’d have accused you of dreaming it up,” Ardeth declared. “Just my luck to have missed out on the fun.”

“It was scarey, rather than fun,” Judy answered. “For Aunt Mattie’s sake, I hope our basement friend doesn’t strike any more sour notes.”

Hanging up the dish towels to dry, the two girls joined Miss Ward and Virginia who were watching the highway for a glimpse of either the station wagon or the milk truck.

“There it comes!” Virginia suddenly cried, spying the vehicle driven by Bart Ranieau.

All the Scouts rushed to the main highway to flag down the milk wagon.

“Hi!” Bart greeted the girls as he halted the delivery wagon at the side of the road. “I see you’ve moved in. Need milk or butter this morning?”

“We can use two quarts of milk,” Miss Ward returned. “But we stopped you for another reason.”

“It’s about Pete,” Ardeth said tensely. “He lost himself in the cave last night. Judy and I called to him, but he wouldn’t come out. He kept going deeper and deeper in the hole.”

She broke off in the report, suddenly aware that the young milkman was smiling in an odd sort of way.

“That Pete!” he remarked. “He’s a natural-born spelunker.”

“A what?” demanded Judy.

“A spelunker. That’s what modern cave explorers call themselves. The science of caves is called speleology.”

Bart motioned for the girls to step over to the milk wagon. Peering in, they saw Pete sprawled comfortably on a rug, lying on the floor. He was fast asleep, his head resting on his forepaws.

“Pete found his own way out of the cave, as he usually does,” Bart explained. “I’ve tried to keep him out, but no soap. One of these days, he may lose his life in there.”

“Well, at any rate, he’s safe now,” Judy declared, greatly relieved. “Is the cave very deep?”

“The exit never has been found.”

“Really?” Ardeth’s eyes opened wide. “I guess Calico Cave is an unsafe place.”

“One shouldn’t venture in very far without a guide. Some ten years ago, a very courageous man whom I knew rather well, lost his life down there. He was seeking the cave exit. Since then, no one has ventured past the point where he last was seen.”

Judy inquired if Calico Cave and Hager’s Hole were one and the same place. Bart replied that they were identical.

“For years the cave was known as Hager’s Hole,” he explained. “It was named for old Captain Hager, who once owned this property.”

“Our cottage?” Virginia asked in astonishment.

“Not the cottage. But the Hager home used to stand in the same location. Mr. Krumm bought the place not so long ago. He tore down the old house and put up a new cottage on the original foundation. Folks advised him not to do it, but no one can tell Krumm anything!”

“He’s had a little trouble renting the cottage?” Judy probed.

“Oh, renters came along fast enough, but they wouldn’t stay!” the milkman chuckled. “Some of ’em, it seems, were allergic to strange sounds. I take it you folks spent a comfortable night?”

“We were disturbed once,” Miss Ward answered. “Nothing serious. We fancied we heard a flute player.”

“No ghosts?” Bart asked, grinning.

“Nary a ghost,” Miss Ward returned. “Naturally we were a bit disturbed about the music, and intend to seek an explanation.”

“Mr. Ranieau, you seem to be quite familiar with Calico Cave,” Judy remarked pointedly. “Could you, by chance, tell us why the name was changed, and maybe explain the mystery of the cottage?”

“Maybe I could,” Bart said, grinning in an odd way. “I like you folks. You have more nerve than those other renters. Maybe, if you ask pretty, I’ll tell you the story of the Old White Witch.”

_Chapter 6_

THE WHITE WITCH

Bart Ranieau’s remark about the White Witch intrigued the girls, who immediately pleaded with him to tell them the story connected with the cave.

“Okay,” he agreed, “but I’m late on my route this morning, so I’ll have to make the tale brief. Calico Cave is very old. It was here before the village was incorporated and has had a half dozen names over the years.

“According to an ancient legend, an old witch once lived in the cave, arousing the villagers by casting horrible spells upon them. In their terror they called upon a monk who once resided in the mountains, to turn the old hag into stone. So now in a chamber of the cave you may see a strange stalagmite formation--the White Witch.”

“Is that a true story?” Virginia asked, deeply impressed.

“The legend is true. As for the White Witch, you can see her if you’ve a mind to explore as far as the first chamber.”

“You don’t believe that tale yourself, I take it?” Miss Ward inquired with a broad smile.

“I think the story was made up to explain the white formation, which does resemble a witch,” Bart answered. “Over the years, the yarn took on more and more detail and color.”

“I’d love to see that old stalagmite witch,” Judy declared, her dark eyes sparkling. “How deep down in the cave is the formation?”

“Too far for you to explore alone,” the milkman responded. “Don’t try it. Not without a guide. Caves are safe enough, if one takes precautions, but they’re no place for amateur explorers, unsupervised.”

“Does Calico Cave have any other interesting formations besides the Witch?” Judy inquired.

“Oh, gobs of ’em. Few persons though, have gone past the old White Witch. In fact, it’s part of the legend that she casts a spell upon all who go beyond that point in the cave.”

“You’ve disproved that part of the legend?” the Girl Scout leader questioned.

“Well, the old witch cast her spell over me all right,” Bart admitted with a chuckle. “Not an evil one though. The Cave fascinates me, and if I had time, I’d really delve into its innermost secrets.”

“Ardeth and I thought we saw a moving light in the cavern late yesterday afternoon,” Judy remarked. “Maybe you were down there exploring.”

“Not yesterday,” Bart replied. “You’re certain you saw a light?”

“Oh, yes, it startled us. Either someone was down in the cave, or it was that old witch!”

“It wasn’t the old witch,” Bart assured her. “She’s a harmless old gal and has stayed fixed for a thousand years, more or less. I can’t guess who might be down in the cave, because folks hereabouts seldom venture in.”

“You spoke of former Calico Cottage renters moving out because of strange sounds which disturbed them,” Miss Ward reminded the young milkman. “Can you tell us more about it?”

“Did the other folks ever hear a flute player?” interposed Ardeth.

“Seems to me I heard some such talk.”

“And loud banging noises at night?” demanded Judy.

“I reckon so.”

“Tell us everything!” urged Virginia. “Is Calico Cottage supposed to be haunted? Is that why Mr. Krumm has trouble keeping his renters?”

“All I know is what I hear,” Bart replied evasively. “I wouldn’t have told you about the White Witch, only I could tell that you Scouts aren’t easily scared.”

“Is there any connection between Calico Cottage and the Witch?” Judy questioned.

“Only as she’s supposed to have cast her spell over the place. The last tenants had a cat. One night she became scared at some noise and leaped through a window, shattering the glass. The folks moved out, came dawn. I know because I met ’em as they were driving away. Tried to talk ’em into staying, but they were dead set the cottage was haunted.”

“You don’t believe that nonsense yourself?” Miss Ward inquired.

“Nope. I think there’s a logical explanation for the cottage cutting up the way it does. I’d tip Krumm off if he weren’t such a disagreeable egg. He took advantage of old Captain Hager in buying the property, and the townsfolk never quite forgave him.”

“Is Captain Hager still alive?” questioned Ardeth.

“Very much so,” Bart told her. “The old sea dog is edging seventy now, but he’s as spry as ever. Since Krumm got the old homestead away from him, he’s lived frugally in a cabin down on the river.”

“The cave, you said, was named for Captain Hager?”

“Yes, it bore his name ever since I can remember. Then Krumm bought all this property, including the private road and the cave. Right off, he changed the name to Calico Cave.”

“But why?” inquired Judy.

“Well, he didn’t want the cave to have Captain Hager’s name, for one thing. There’s no love between them, you know. Then I guess he thought Hager’s Hole was too closely associated with talk of the White Witch and death.”

“Death?” Ardeth repeated uneasily.

“One man lost his life in the cave. Another explorer--an amateur--broke his leg, and a searching party had to bring him out. Not so many months ago, a group of giddy girls went in without a guide. They lost their way, and wandered around for several hours before help got to them. The stories they told around didn’t help any. So Krumm changed the cave name.”

“I can see that the cavern is no drawing card,” Miss Ward remarked. “When first I saw the cave sign, I assumed that the place might be a tourist attraction.”

“It could be,” Bart said seriously. “That cave has everything! Fantastic formations beyond belief! An underground river, a waterfall, everything to attract visitors, if facilities could be provided. But Krumm has no imagination, and he’s too tight to spend a penny developing the cave. It’s a pity the property ever came into his possession.”

The Scouts had a dozen more questions at the tip of their tongues. Before they could ask any of them, a familiar automobile drove up, parking squarely in front of the Cloverleaf milk truck.

Mr. Krumm squeezed out from behind the wheel and walked directly over to the group. He gazed sharply at Bart, his attitude unfriendly.

“I thought I’d drop by to inquire how you’re getting along,” he said, ignoring the milkman and bowing to Miss Ward. “You have found the cottage quite comfortable, I trust?”

“It seems to be very well equipped,” the teacher conceded. “I can’t say we spent too comfortable a night, though. We were disturbed by strange sounds.”

“Strange sounds?” The real estate man registered surprise which was not in the least convincing.

“We heard music, and thumping noises,” Judy supplied. “It seems your cottage has a ghost.”

“No such thing!” Mr. Krumm indignantly denied. “That’s all bosh! You’ve been listening to stupid gossip.”

“You should have told us the truth about the cottage before we rented it,” Miss Ward reproved him mildly. “Judy’s aunt will be coming shortly, and we hesitate to turn over a place to her that may be unnerving or possibly unsafe.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the cottage,” Mr. Krumm flared. “You’ve been talking to Bart Ranieau, and he’s been filling you with hot air!”

“We were asking him about the cottage and likewise about the cave,” Miss Ward admitted. “If we’re to remain here another night, we want all the information we can get.”

“I was telling ’em about the White Witch,” Bart interposed to plague the realtor.

“How many times have I told you to keep your nose out of my affairs?” Mr. Krumm demanded furiously. “You can’t keep that wagging, clacking tongue of yours still! You’ve driven away all of my tenants, one by one.”

“That’s not so, Krumm, and you know it.”

“You fill ’em up with fears about White Witches and such nonsense. I want no more of it, understand? Furthermore, I want you to keep off my property. Don’t be snooping around Calico Cave any more!”

“You can’t keep me from exploring,” Bart returned coolly. “You may own the land, but not what’s below the surface.”

“You stay out of that cave, and away from it,” Mr. Krumm repeated his order.

Bart grinned provokingly, and without making answer, drove off down the road.

“That young whippersnapper gets my blood up!” Mr. Krumm asserted after the milk wagon had vanished around a curve. “I wouldn’t have ordered him to keep off the property, only he’s become a pest.”

“I take it, you don’t consider the cave safe?” Judy inquired curiously.

“Oh, it’s safe enough, if you don’t wander in too far,” the real estate man replied with a shrug. “My order doesn’t apply to you folks. If you want to see the cave, you can go down there any time.”

“I don’t believe I’d care to explore,” Ardeth said with a shiver. “Not after learning that a man died in the cave.”

“Bart told you about _that_, I suppose?” Mr. Krumm questioned sarcastically.

“Isn’t it true?”

“Bart didn’t tell you _why_ the man lost his life,” Mr. Krumm said, without answering the inquiry. “No, he just filled you up with a lot of nonsense about a White Witch.”

“She doesn’t really cast a spell over the cottage?” Judy asked mischievously.

Mr. Krumm’s normally florid face became even redder. He sucked in his breath, moistened his lips, and then launched into another vehement denial that anything was wrong with Calico Cottage.

“I’m sick of all this gossipy talk!” he ended his tirade. “I’m sick of losing tenants! I’m so weary of it, that I’m willing to pay good money to disprove all the contemptible stories.”

The Scouts remained respectfully silent.

“Bart has convinced you, I suppose, that you should move out,” Mr. Krumm went on. Without giving anyone an opportunity to deny the statement, he continued: “All right, suppose I admit that former tenants have complained about the cottage having strange noises at night? There must be an explanation for it--a logical, sensible one.”

“We’ll go along with you on that theory,” Miss Ward replied. “You have a proposition, Mr. Krumm?”

“Yes, I have. It’s all bunk about Calico Cave or the cottage having a ghost. If you’ll stay here for two weeks, and disprove the story, I’ll refund your rent payment. What d’you say?”

Ardeth, Virginia and Judy gazed questioningly at their leader, awaiting her decision.

“We would prefer a rent refund with no strings attached,” the teacher suggested.

“Sorry, I can’t do that. After all, I’m not in business for my health. This cottage has been an expensive proposition. What do you say?”

“We’ll consider your offer,” Miss Ward said quietly. “We’ll remain for another night and make our decision after that. However, if we do make the test, it will not be for commercial reasons, but only to safeguard Judy’s aunt.”

_Chapter 7_

THE TREASURE BOX

Pine Cone Camp seemed strangely deserted when Miss Ward, Ardeth, Judy and Virginia arrived there at nine o’clock in the station wagon.

Seeking the tent which had been assigned to the Beaver Patrol unit, the new arrivals found it quite deserted.

“Where is everyone?” Ardeth asked in perplexity. “Surely not on a hike so early?”

Swimming suits hung on the clothes lines, attesting to the fact that the campers already had enjoyed an early morning plunge in Morning Glory Lake.

“Look!” Judy suddenly cried, pointing toward a cleared area some distance away at the edge of the forest. “Everyone is over there! Let’s see what’s doing.”

Hurrying over to the group, the girls could not at first discern what it was that had drawn the interest of the entire camp.

Gradually, however, they edged deeper into the assembly and saw that the other Scouts were taking turns peering into a large wooden box, covered with a wire screen.

“What in the world?” Virginia speculated.

Just then Beverly, Kathleen and Betty caught sight of their patrol mates in the crowd, and joined them. Judy asked the cause of the excitement.

“Oh, you girls have missed all the fun, being stuck down there at Calico Cottage,” Kathleen told her. “We’ve started a treasure box.”

“What is that?”

“Look in it and you’ll see!”

The other Scouts moved aside to make way for Judy and the newcomers. Gazing into the box, they were amazed to see all manner of strange animals and insects.

“It’s a nature treasure chest!” Kathleen informed her friends. “We already have a mouse, a spider, and three varieties of turtles. Each patrol is supposed to contribute an animal, bird or unusual insect.”

“Does Beaver Patrol have an entry?” Judy asked.

“Not yet. Beverly very nearly caught a little chipmunk, but he eluded her. We’re depending upon you girls to help us.”

“We will,” Ardeth promised. “Just give us time to get our thoughts adjusted, and we’ll come up with a prize winner.”

“There are to be no duplications,” Kathleen warned. “All the patrols are working on it, so we’ll have to get busy.”

“How about a little garter snake?” suggested Ardeth thoughtfully.

“If Beaver Patrol goes for that, you’ll have to produce the snake,” Kathleen replied with a shudder. “No snakes for me!”

“I vote we put Ardeth in charge of finding a patrol entry for the treasure box,” proposed Betty Bache, who had joined the other girls. “She’ll get a big boot out of the job.”

“I’ll be glad to take it over,” Ardeth offered, for she thoroughly enjoyed the study of nature and had no fear of animals or insects.

“Good!” Kathleen approved. “That takes a load off my mind.”

The blowing of a bugle summoned all the campers to assembly. Miss Lubell waited until all the Scouts had gathered, and then signalled for silence. It was evident that she had a most important announcement.

“Girls,” she began, “we had planned a hike to Indian Falls this morning, but it will be necessary to make a change.”

A chorus of groans met this announcement, for the girls had looked forward to the outing and outdoor cookery.

“However, we have other interesting plans,” the director went on quickly. “The Civil Air Patrol has notified me that it can make a plane available for the first-aid and exploration excursion I mentioned earlier. But today is the only time the Service will be able to cooperate. Accordingly, we’ve decided to go ahead. All patrols desiring to compete, should sign up at once. Your counselors will provide full details.”

The girls were informed that at ten o’clock all competing patrols would hike a quarter of a mile to Flat Top, an area relatively level and clear of trees.

According to the plan, a Civil Air Patrol plane would fly over the section to drop a message which would give Scouts notification of a fake plane crash. The general location of the accident likewise would be given. Starting with equal information, the units were expected to separate and compete in trying to be the first to reach the designated locality.

Once there, the Scouts were to give first aid treatment to the imaginary victims, and proceed exactly as if the accident were a real one. Three girls from the Garden City Patrol had volunteered to act as the injured passengers of the plane crash. Notes would be pinned to their clothing, stating the nature of their supposed injuries.

Kathleen, Judy, Betty and Beverly teamed up as one exploring unit, representing Beaver Patrol. Ardeth and Virginia decided not to enter the competition, preferring to remain behind to search for a suitable wild pet to add to the treasure box collection.

Shortly after ten o’clock, the representatives of seven patrols were encamped on the table top, anxiously scanning the sky for a glimpse of the expected plane. All the girls had dressed sensibly in heavy shirts, slacks and stout climbing boots. Faces and necks were protected from the sun, but even so, the rays bore fiercely down upon their backs as they sat impatiently waiting.

“Won’t that plane ever come?” Beverly fretted, wiping perspiration from her neck. “We’ve been here an age now!”

“Only ten minutes,” Kathleen corrected.

“Well, it seems a year. Maybe there’s been a mix-up about plans,” Beverly went on. “I wish I’d stayed in camp. This trip will be hard and tiring.”

“Good experience though,” Judy said, continuing to scan the azure, almost cloudless sky. “It will be a test of skill to find our way to the right place, administer first aid, make improvised litters and carry our victims to help.”

“I hope we’re the first to get there,” Kathleen declared. “So far, Beaver Patrol hasn’t shown up too well in the camp competitions. That’s because all of the girls haven’t been together, especially in the evening. This is our chance.”

Judy suddenly sprang to her feet. She had been the first in the group to sight the Civil Air Patrol plane winging in from the east.

“Here it comes!” she cried. “They’ll be dropping a message in a moment. Watch sharp!”

All of the patrols now were alert and ready. The Scouts who had equipped themselves with field glasses, trained them on the approaching plane.

Its wings flashing in the sunlight, the ship came in low enough for the girls to see the forms of the pilot and his passenger. Three times the plane circled the tableland. Then on the fourth trip over, the message tube was dropped.

It missed the open table top by twenty feet, landing amid the trees and brush just below where the Beaver Patrol girls had taken their stand.

“Come on,” Judy shouted, starting off at a run. “I saw where it dropped!”

There was a mad scramble to see who would be the first to reach the message tube. According to the rules of the competition, the directions, once read, could not be kept, but must be left behind for other patrols.

Plunging through the underbrush, Judy was the first to seize upon the shining metal tube. As she opened it to remove the message which had been folded within, Beverly, Kathleen and Betty crowded close to read the directions.

“Plane crash at 9:48 a.m. on Hermit’s Ridge,” Kathleen discerned the writing. “Three passengers in need of help.”

“Hermit’s Ridge!” Beverly explained. “Where is that?”

Judy already was consulting her map of the region.

“You might know it’s a difficult climb from here!” she exclaimed. “We have several choices of a route. We can take the short, hard climb--no trail. That way, it looks to be approximately a mile and a half from here.”

“What are the other choices?” Kathleen questioned.

“We can follow the main highway three quarters of the way, and then make a short climb on Lone Pine Trail. Our third choice is to descend from here to Rocky Point Path and keep on it all the way.”

“I’m for taking the shortest route even if it will mean a harder climb,” Beverly said at once. “Let’s go!”

“Hold on,” Judy directed, continuing to study the map. “I’m in favor of the road myself. It may be longer, but it’s a lot faster, easier walking most of the way.”

“Furthermore, we may be able to catch a ride part of the distance,” Kathleen added. “That would be within the rules. The patrol wins that gets first to Hermit’s Ridge and accomplishes its first aid mission.”

“I’m in favor of the road too,” Betty Bache asserted, siding with Kathleen and Judy. “The various choice of routes is a test of judgment as well as endurance.”

Leaving the message for the other patrols to read, the four girls quickly descended rugged terrain to the paved highway.

“I think we’re making a mistake,” Beverly insisted, shifting her first-aid kit to a more comfortable carrying position. “Not many cars pass on the road at this time of day. The distance is much longer.”

“We can dog-trot part of it,” Judy said, beginning to lope along. “Anyway, we’re well out ahead of the others!”

“I can see another group starting out,” Beverly reported looking back. “They chose the short, hard way.”

“Since we’re out ahead, that might be their only chance to beat us,” Betty reasoned. “I still think we chose the better, faster route.”

Alternately, the girls dog-trotted twenty steps and then walked the same number. In that manner, they did not tire so easily or lose breath.

The road wound on through the forest in dips and sharp ascents. They kept going, ignoring the heat of the sun and their own increasing weariness.

“I’m glad we didn’t take the hard climb,” Judy commented as she and Kathleen paused a moment to wait for Betty and Beverly to catch up. “The going will be tough enough before we reach Hermit’s Ridge.”

At the next sharp bend in the highway, the Scouts were able to look down at the table top some distance below. Not a single patrol seemed to have followed them.

“I knew it!” Beverly exclaimed. “All the others have taken the shorter routes!”

“Let them,” Judy replied cheerfully. “It hasn’t been proven yet that our judgment was poor. We’ve been making fast time.”

“We haven’t caught that ride yet,” Beverly reminded her. “Not a single car has passed us on the road. And we’ve met only one truck.”

Resting only momentarily, the four went on, doggedly determined to be the first to reach Hermit’s Ridge. Soon they lost all view of their competitors who had been swallowed up by the dense forest foliage.

“Say, I think I hear a truck coming now!” Betty presently exclaimed. She paused to cock an attentive ear. “Wow! It’s coming fast, burning up the road!”

“We’ll never flag down that driver!” Judy exclaimed, moving hastily off the pavement.

The heavy freight carrier roared past the girls, its massive tires screaming as it went around a bend.

“What does that driver think this road is--a speedway?” Beverly demanded. “Why, it’s dangerous--”

The four hikers halted abruptly, frozen by the fearful sound of screeching brakes. They could not see beyond the next sharp curve, but the sickening thud was unmistakable. The speeding truck had missed its turn and had skidded off the road!

_Chapter 8_

VALUABLE CARGO

Rounding the bend at a run, the four Scouts saw that the big truck had missed plunging over the ravine by mere inches.

The heavily loaded vehicle had skidded wildly, bringing up at a sharp angle against a rocky embankment. Shattered glass lay on the pavement.

Judy was the first to reach the tilted truck cab. She could not at first get the jammed door open, but suddenly it gave, swinging back so hard, she nearly was thrown off balance.

The driver was slumped over the wheel, stunned and bleeding from flesh cuts. He was a heavy-set man with a beak-like nose and square jaw which sagged to give him a stupid appearance. His eyes were glazed and unseeing.

The only other occupant of the truck, a thin man with two front teeth missing, sprawled half off the seat, moaning and using foul language.

“My neck!” he screamed. “It’s like killing me! Don’t stand there! Do something! Get a doctor!”

He pulled himself out of the cab, pushing angrily at Kathleen when she tried to help him. Despite the rebuff she took his arm to steady him.

“Don’t touch me! Get away!” he screamed, staggering. Kathleen caught a whiff of his breath then and knew that he had been drinking. She noted that his right arm hung limp and that the right shoulder was much lower than the left. He had grasped it at the elbow to provide support.

“You can’t raise your arm above your shoulder, can you?” she demanded. “Your collar bone must be fractured.”

“So what?” the trucker demanded savagely. He leaned weakly against the truck, ignoring her efforts to be of help.

Meanwhile, Judy, Beverly and Betty had devoted their attention to the truck driver, who appeared in more serious condition than the disagreeable passenger.

Carefully, they stretched him out flat on the cab seat.

“He may be only stunned,” Judy said anxiously. “The first thing is to get the blood stopped. No artery has been cut fortunately.”

The blood came from two facial cuts and a wrist which had been slashed by flying glass. Judy removed a tiny splinter of glass from the latter wound, treated the cut with antiseptic, placed a compress over the opening and bandaged it tightly.

That job done, the girls bandaged the driver’s face, noting with relief that he seemed to be recovering from shock. Now and then he moaned in pain as they worked deftly and efficiently, but for the most part he eyed them silently.

Kathleen, on the other hand, was having a most trying time with her patient, who refused to cooperate. He would not lie down or let her examine his neck.

“I can’t do anything with him,” she whispered to Judy. “I’m sure he has a fractured collar bone. But what to do about it? He’s acting like a maniac.”

“Delirious?”

“He’s just a mean character,” Kathleen muttered in an undertone. “I’m sort of scared.”

“Scared? Why?”

“He has a revolver in his back pocket.”

“Maybe he carries it to protect the cargo,” Judy replied. “Let’s see what we can do about that collar bone.”

Moving over to the sullen trucker, who stood leaning against the tilted vehicle, she addressed him quietly but firmly.

“You’ll feel more comfortable if you sit or lie down. We’ll help you--”

“I don’t want any help.” The trucker’s lips parted in an ugly snarl which revealed his missing front teeth. “You got a car?”

“No, we’re Girl Scouts on a hike.”

“Girl Scouts! A lot of help you’ll be!”

Judy ignored the sarcasm, noting how limply the trucker’s right arm hung.

“We can help,” she insisted. “Your collar bone has been broken, I think.”

“So what?” the trucker demanded belligerently. “I’m worried about this truck. We can never move it out of this--have to abandon it.”

“You should be able to get a wrecker from the village. Now about that collar bone--”

“Forget it, I said.” The man’s gaze roved toward the cab of the truck where Betty and Beverly were covering the driver with coats.

“Is Joe done for?” he demanded with cold rather than friendly concern.

“He’s more stunned than hurt, I think,” Judy replied.

“Can’t he make it on his own pins? We gotta get out o’ here.”

“He shouldn’t try to walk. We’ll bring help to you as fast as we can. First, though, you must take a sensible attitude and let us wrap that collar bone. You’ll be far more comfortable until we can get you a doctor.”

“Okay,” the trucker suddenly consented. “Make it snappy though, and don’t hurt me or I’ll bash you in! I ain’t in no mood to be worked over by amateurs.”

Having cajoled the man into a more cooperative mood, Judy went quickly to work. With Kathleen helping, she utilized a triangular bandage as a sling for the right arm, tying it snugly to the side of his body with a cravat bandage.

“Humph!” the trucker muttered, not displeased as he surveyed the finished job. “Not too bad.”

“The important thing now is to get you both to a doctor,” Judy said briskly. “Cars pass rather infrequently on this road. Kathleen and I will go for help while Beverly and Betty stay here to do what they can.”

“You’ve done enough now,” the trucker returned. “Thanks, kids! Now all of you beat it--on your way.”

“We’ll have a wrecker sent,” Judy went on, gathering up her first aid equipment.

“Don’t bother.”

“But we’ll be glad to do it,” Judy insisted. “It’s part of our Scout training to help when we can.”

“Yeah? Cut out the chatter and clear out!” The trucker glowered at the girls, and dropped his left hand to his hip pocket. “Get out I said!”

Frightened by the hostile attitude of the man, Beverly and Betty snatched up their first aid kits, and started hurriedly off the way they had come. Kathleen and Judy were more deliberate in making their departure. However, knowing that the trucker had a revolver, they were in no mood to argue with him.

Once beyond the first bend in the road, the four girls excitedly discussed the situation.

“That’s all the thanks we get for helping!” Beverly said furiously. “We’ve lost out on the Hermit Ridge competition too--worse luck.”

“I guess there’s more to this first aid business than just wrapping up broken bones!” Betty added. “One has to learn how to handle half-crazy patients.”

“I can’t understand why that man was so eager to get us away,” Judy remarked thoughtfully. “Normally, anyone in similar plight would welcome help. Why wouldn’t he want us to send a doctor or a wrecker?”

“Just out of his head, I guess,” Beverly shrugged.

“On the contrary,” Judy insisted, “he seemed quite cool about the entire procedure. You know, I wonder what sort of cargo those men were carrying?”

“It must have been valuable,” Kathleen replied. “Otherwise, why would he carry a revolver for protection?”

Keyed up by the encounter with the two men, but decidedly discouraged over the outcome of their efforts, the girls hiked as fast as they could down the mountain road. Despite the order that they were not to send help, they planned to do so.

“Doesn’t a car ever come on this road?” Beverly complained after they had hiked ten minutes without meeting or being passed by an automobile or a truck.

“I see a car coming now!” Kathleen suddenly cried. “From the direction of the village.”

“Say, we’re in luck!” exclaimed Judy, abruptly halting. “It’s a state highway patrol car!”

Waiting, the girls flagged the automobile to a stop. Quickly, they told the two patrolmen of the accident and of the strange behavior of the truckers who had rejected assistance.

“Did you notice the license number of the truck?” one of the highway patrolmen asked.

None of the Scouts had made a note of it.

“We were too busy wrapping up wounds to think of that,” Judy confessed.

The patrolmen next inquired if the girls could describe the two truckers.

“Oh, yes!” Kathleen said eagerly. “The passenger was a thin fellow with two teeth missing. He had dark bushy eyebrows and was very disagreeable.”

“That was Ben Vodner, I’ll bet a cent!” one of the patrolmen exclaimed. “Did he have a scar on his left cheek?”

“Yes, he did!” Judy recalled. “A long jagged white mark!”

“What did the other man look like?”

“His most prominent feature was a large hooked nose,” Judy described him. “He was a large man, heavy-set and with a square jaw. I’d say he weighed about two hundred pounds--”

“That’s Joe Pompilli for sure!”

“Who is he?” Kathleen demanded.

“Joe’s the ring leader of a bunch of hi-jackers,” one of the patrolmen informed her. “Off and on for the last six months, he and his boys have been hi-jacking cargo and taking it through here right under the noses of the forest rangers.”

“So that was why they didn’t want help!” Judy exclaimed. “That truck that went off the road was loaded with stolen cargo!”

Taking the girls into the patrol car, the two patrolmen proceeded with all speed toward the scene of the accident.

“It’s just around the next bend,” Judy informed the driver.

“Then I’ll let you girls out here,” he said, pulling up at the side of the road. “There may be shooting. Stay back until we see what’s what.”

Piling out of the car, the Scouts waited until the patrolmen had driven on. Then, they rounded the bend, tense and expectant.

The truck remained in the ditch where last they had seen it, but neither of the injured men were anywhere visible.

Watching from a safe distance, the girls saw the patrolmen carefully search the truck cab.

“Those two hi-jackers have fled!” Judy exclaimed. “I guess they weren’t as badly hurt as we thought!”

At a run, the Scouts raced up the road to join the patrolmen, who by this time had broken open the door lock on the back of the truck.

“Just as I thought,” one of the searchers declared as he swung open the double doors. “Stolen auto tires!”

“Tires snatched from the Graystone Transport Co. The truck was held up early this morning across the state line.”

Judy and her friends were bewildered with respect to what had happened to the two accident victims. They were not long in doubt however, for tire marks on the pavement showed plainly that a car had come along, turned on the roadway, and returned in the same direction whence it had come.

“Ben Vodner must have stopped the driver and made him take him and his pal, Joe, to town,” the patrolman commented. “They’re likely heading for Brady City, over the state line. There’s a slim chance we can overtake ’em.”

Knowing that the wild chase might end in a gun battle, the patrolmen told the Scouts they could not take them along.

“Catch a ride back to your camp,” one of the men advised Judy as he prepared to drive away. “We’ll let you know later how this comes out. If we overtake those hi-jackers, we may need you to testify. If they get away, you want to steer clear of them. Joe and Ben are mighty tough boys, and they’ll bear you no gratitude for the help you gave them today!”

_Chapter 9_

“IS JOE THERE?”

All that day, Pine Cone Camp buzzed with the exciting story of how the four Beaver Patrol Scouts had given first aid to the two notorious hi-jackers.

Judy, Beverly, Betty and Kathleen were subjected to a great deal of teasing. The other campers, to plague them declared that their timely assistance had made it easier for the truckers to escape.

That the two men had made a successful getaway was confirmed late in the afternoon. Two state highway patrolmen, Clinton DeWitt and George Franey, dropped around at Pine Cone Camp purposely to inform Judy and her friends that the identity of the hi-jackers tentatively had been established.

“We’re quite sure those two truckers were Joe Pompilli and Ben Vodner,” the girls were told. “They stopped a car and made the driver give them a lift. At gun point, they forced him to take them across the state line. Finally, on a side road, miles from a telephone, they abandoned the driver and continued on their way.”

“Joe and his pal probably will give this area a wide berth for awhile,” the other patrolman added. “You never can tell though.”

“That’s right,” agreed George Franey. “They’re daring outlaws, well organized. Joe Pompilli won’t abandon this run because of one mishap. But we’ll be watching for him!”

As was to be expected, Judy, Beverly, Betty and Kathleen, were regarded somewhat as heroines by their camp mates. Many times they were called upon to recite their adventures on the lonely mountain road.

“We’ve given a bandage-by-bandage report so many times I’m beginning to embellish the details,” Judy laughed as she told the story for perhaps the twelfth time. “That thin fellow the patrolmen called Ben was a mean sort of individual. He didn’t actually threaten us with his gun though.”

“The worst of it was that we lost out in the Hermit Ridge competition,” added Kathleen ruefully. “I’m afraid we’ll have to depend on Ardeth and Virginia to win points for our patrol.”

She smiled at the other two, who had spent most of the morning searching for a suitable specimen to add to the nature treasure chest.

Both girls were sunburned and discouraged. True, they had captured an unwary bull frog and a rare type of water insect, but only to learn that other units had made similar entries during their absence from camp.

“So now to qualify, we’ll have to find something different,” Ardeth asserted. “I’m sick about it.”

“Oh, we’ll get an entry before the deadline,” Judy said cheerfully.

“We have several days to work on it,” added Kathleen.

“The other campers have combed the lake and the area around here so thoroughly that it will be hard to find anything unusual,” Ardeth insisted with a shake of her head. “All of the common things such as worms, bugs, and bees, have been used too!”

“Maybe we can find an entry while we’re at Calico Cottage,” Kathleen suggested. “The woods near the cave haven’t been explored.”

“We might enter the Cottage ghost!” Judy said with a chuckle. “If we could capture him, we’d be entitled to first prize!”

“By the way, have you heard from your aunt?” Ardeth inquired.

Judy nodded and displayed a telegram which she carried in her pocket. “This came in the morning delivery from town,” she explained. “Aunt Mattie will arrive on the 2:10 p.m. train tomorrow.”

“Have you told her about the cottage having a ghost?”

“No, and I’m not eager to either,” Judy returned with a grimace. “Aunt Mattie might make a dreadful fuss. I wish we could clear up the mystery before she gets here.”

“We have tonight to work on it,” Kathleen remarked thoughtfully. “If only we could get down into the cottage basement! It wouldn’t do though, to break the door lock.”

“Hardly,” Judy agreed. “Mr. Krumm would have a just complaint then!”

Though the Beaver Patrol girls made light of the “ghost” and the strange flute music which had disturbed their slumbers at the cottage, they were determined to find a logical explanation for the occurrence.

Judy and her friends had said very little about the mysterious happening, but the story had leaked out and greatly enlarged in the telling. Throughout the afternoon, the girls were besieged by questions. Their rivals in the Lone Tree unit seemed especially interested.

“We’re certainly the target of attention,” Judy remarked to Kathleen. “I can’t understand why the Lone Tree girls are so fascinated by every detail. Something’s in the wind!”

The Beaver Patrol members remained at camp for dinner and to enjoy a ceremonial camp fire which wound up with the telling of ghost stories. At nine o’clock, the station wagon took Judy, Kathleen, Miss Ward, Ardeth and Virginia to Calico Cottage for the night.

“We’ll have our tent by tomorrow, I’m quite sure,” Miss Ward told the girls as they let themselves into the dark cottage. “That will be a relief.”

“I don’t mind being here,” Virginia asserted. “In fact, I think it’s exciting! Do you suppose we’ll hear that flute player tonight?”

“We will if we keep dwelling upon it,” Miss Ward replied as she switched on the lights. “The mind, you know, plays strange tricks. Now everyone to bed, and no nonsense.”

Rather soberly, the girls went to their rooms. Because Miss Ward was with them, they had no fear of spending a night in the cottage. Nevertheless, they were somewhat tense with expectancy.

Ardeth was removing a shoe, when suddenly she stiffened. “Listen!” she directed. “What was that?”

“I heard nothing,” returned Virginia.

“I thought I heard a thumping sound in the cellar,” Ardeth insisted in a hushed voice.

“That was your own heart pounding, goose!” teased Kathleen. “Jump into bed, and stop imagining things.”

Ardeth obediently turned off the bedroom light. Going to the window, she opened it, and stood for a moment, gazing toward the dark forest which edged ominously close to the cottage lawn.

“Kathleen! Virginia!” she summoned the others, drawing in her breath.

“Now what?” Kathleen demanded.

“Come here, quick! Tell me what you see.” Dramatically, Ardeth pointed toward the towering trees.

Virginia went quickly to the window, peering in the direction indicated. She stood silent and tense, scarcely believing her own eyesight.

“It’s--it’s something white, and it moves!” she exclaimed.

Kathleen had joined the other two. Ardeth gripped her hand so tightly it hurt. “I’m scared,” she confessed shakily. “What do you think, Kathy?”

“I’ll call Miss Ward and Judy.”

Quickly, she summoned the other two from the next bedroom. Neither had started to disrobe for the night. For several minutes the five stood at the darkened window, gazing out across the sloping lawn to the dark backdrop of trees.

Plainly they could see a white object moving lazily back and forth against a curtain of foliage. A nearly full moon added to the eerie effect, casting a ghostly light over the lonely forest area.

“A spook!” Ardeth declared shakily. “It’s coming this way too!”

“No such thing,” Miss Ward corrected in a firm voice. “Whatever the object may be, it is not moving in this direction. I’ll get my flashlight and investigate.”

“I’ll go with you,” Judy offered.

Putting on warm jackets, the two slipped out of the cottage. The night was chilly, for a light breeze blew from the direction of the river.

Judy and the teacher focused their eyes on the white object at the edge of the woods. Though it continued to move lazily, its basic position did not seem to change.

“Keep well behind me, Judy,” Miss Ward directed as they drew near the trees. “I doubt that there is any serious cause for alarm, but it’s wise to proceed cautiously.”

Having decided upon a bold approach, the pair moved directly toward the white object.

When they were within a few yards of it, Miss Ward switched on the flashlight. She directed the beam squarely upon the fluttering “ghost.”

“Why, it looks like a bed sheet!” Judy exclaimed, and burst into relieved laughter.

“A sheet attached to a bush!” added Miss Ward. “Let’s find out about this.”

She held the light while Judy removed the sheet from the foliage. To prevent it from blowing away, two ends had been tied to the branches with cord.

“This ‘ghost’ was put here purposely!” Judy declared. “By whom, I wonder?”

“Any marking on the linen?”

Judy inspected the sheet under the light. “Here are some initials stamped on the edge!” she exclaimed. “‘P.C.C.’”

“Pine Cone Camp!”

“Well, if that isn’t a good joke on us!” Judy laughed. “The girls at camp decided to produce that ghost we were telling them about! Beverly and Betty may have pulled this one!”

“They were in camp all afternoon, Judy.”

“That’s true. Maybe some of the Lone Tree Scouts did it then! One of their girls has been asking a lot of questions about Calico Cottage.”

“I don’t mind a bit of good fun,” Miss Ward said, folding the sheet. “On the other hand, I’m not in favor of making too much of this ghost talk. I think I’ll discuss the matter with Miss Lubell tomorrow.”

“I hope whoever played the trick won’t get into trouble. I’m sure it was all in good fun.”

“Oh, no one will receive a reprimand,” Miss Ward promised. “I’ll find out which girls had camp leave this afternoon. If it develops that any of them played the trick, I’ll ask them not to repeat it, that’s all.”

When the two returned to the cottage with the bed sheet, Virginia, Ardeth and Kathleen anxiously met them at the door.

“Here’s your ghost!” Judy laughed, tossing the camp linen into Kathleen’s arms. “Look at the initials!”

“So that’s why those Lone Tree Scouts were giggling and carrying on this afternoon!” Kathleen exclaimed after she had examined the markings. “Several of them asked for camp leave too!”

“Then my idea about that probably was right,” Miss Ward said.

Greatly relieved that the ghost scare had no serious aspects, the Scouts discussed the prank for a few minutes, and then went to bed. It was a long while, however, before the house finally settled down.

Judy fell quickly asleep. How long she slumbered she had no way of knowing. But suddenly, she found herself wide awake.

Miss Ward, she noted, was sleeping soundly beside her.

Wondering what had disturbed her, Judy sat up. Moonlight streamed into the bedroom. She judged that it could not be later than midnight or possibly one o’clock.

The telephone was ringing.

“So that’s what awakened me!” Judy thought, leaping out of bed. “Wonder who can be calling at this time of night?”

The phone call, she thought, might be from Pine Cone Camp. Something might have happened to Betty or Beverly. Or possibly it was a message from Aunt Mattie.

In her haste to reach the telephone before it stopped ringing, Judy bumped against a chair. Nursing a bruised knee, she hobbled on.

As she took down the receiver to say “hello,” a gruff voice came over the line.

“Time you answered! Is Joe there?”

“Joe?” faltered Judy. “Joe who?”

Only silence gave reply. Then the wire went completely dead. The speaker at the other end of the line had hung up.

_Chapter 10_

A MIDNIGHT DISTURBANCE

As Judy hung up the telephone receiver, the light suddenly was switched on behind her. Startled, she whirled around with a smothered exclamation of alarm.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, Judy.” It was Kathleen who stood in the doorway, a corduroy robe flung over her shoulders. “I heard someone moving around, and thought I’d check, that’s all. Is anything wrong?”

“The phone was ringing. I--I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Who was it that called, Judy?”

“That’s the point. I don’t know. Someone asked for Joe.”

“Joe? Joe who?”

“That’s exactly what I asked, Kathleen. The only Joe I know is that dreadful Joe Pompilli.”

“Someone must have called the wrong number.”

“I guess so,” Judy admitted doubtfully. “It gave me an ugly start though. What time is it?”

“A little past midnight,” Kathleen said, looking at her wristwatch. “What a night! All we need to make it complete is a little flute music!”

The switching on of a light had disturbed the others in the cottage. Miss Ward came in from the bedroom and then Virginia and Ardeth, the latter groggy with sleep.

“What now?” she mumbled. “Another ghost?”

Judy explained about the telephone.

“Those Lone Tree Scouts!” Virginia exclaimed indignantly. “They’re playing another joke on us! Trying to pretend that Joe Pompilli is calling!”

“It wasn’t anyone from Pine Cone Camp,” Judy said, her face serious. “Whoever called was a man.”

“It must have been someone who dialed a wrong number,” Kathleen insisted. “I’m in favor of forgetting the whole business, and going to bed. If we don’t get some sleep we’ll all be wrecks tomorrow.”

“That’s sound advice,” approved Miss Ward. “To bed everyone!”

All the girls were up at seven o’clock the next morning, feeling little the worse for the excitement of the night. While the Scouts were washing the breakfast dishes, the telephone rang again.

“You get it, Judy,” Virginia directed with a giggle. “It’s probably from Joe.”

“From Aunt Mattie more than likely,” Judy replied, moving hastily to the telephone.

The message was from Miss Lubell at Pine Cone Camp. She asked Judy to tell Miss Ward that the station wagon driver had been delayed that morning and could not call for the girls until ten thirty.

“This means we’ll have considerable free time on our hands,” Judy remarked as she relayed the information to the others.