Chapter III: Part 3

“Let’s explore the river area, and maybe around the cave,” proposed Ardeth. “I want to find an insect or an animal we can enter in the nature treasure chest.”

“We’ll all go,” Miss Ward decided.

The work already had been finished. Locking the cottage, the five struck off down the private road. After it dead-ended, they went on across the silvery-gray rocks and through a stretch of sand to the river.

Beyond the ribbon of blue water, the mountains rose in jagged green peaks. A ranger station was visible on one of the high slopes, set in a cleared area among the trees.

A half-rotted dock extended for some distance out into the stream. The girls noticed an elderly man in blue overalls tying up his rowboat after a fishing expedition.

“Good morning,” Judy said pleasantly as the girls wandered over. “How’s the fishing?”

Straightening up, the old man shoved a soiled white cap at a rakish angle over his shaggy white hair.

“Mornin’ to you,” he greeted the girls jovially. “The fishin’? Nary a bite! Blast my timbers, it’s a waste of a man’s time to blister his skin out in the sun on this old river. I’m slingin’ my hook for today.”

Moving stiffly, the elderly man began to unload his fishing equipment from the boat. Judy and Kathleen reached down to help him.

“Right handy mates ye be,” he remarked, well pleased by their attention. “Don’t recollect seein’ you gals hereabouts before. Tourists?”

“We’re Girl Scouts,” Judy explained. “We’re staying at Pine Cone Camp. Because of a mix-up there over reservations, some of us have been sleeping at Calico Cottage.”

“Calico Cottage? Well, bash my binnacles!”

“It’s a lovely cottage,” Ardeth contributed. “The only trouble is, it seems to have a ghost.”

“A musical ghost who plays a flute at night,” added Virginia.

“You don’t say! A ghost!” The old man gave a throaty chuckle and then laughed so hard that his sizeable stomach rolled up and down under the overalls. “I’ll be a son of a sea cook! That’s a good joke on Krumm!”

“It’s not so much fun for us though,” Judy declared earnestly. “We’re turning the cottage over to my aunt this afternoon. She’s inclined to be nervous. We’d hoped to clear up the mystery before she arrived, but that seems out of the question now.”

“Don’t waste any time worrying about that ghost,” the old man advised. “A bunch o’ Girl Scouts ought to be smart enough to get to wind’ard of any flute-playin’ spook.”

“It would seem that way,” agreed Judy. “So far, though, we’ve had no luck. By the way, you’re not Captain Hager by any chance?”

“That’s my name, but not by chance! Captain Humphrey Hager, formerly master of the good ship _Elaine_. I’ve been in dry dock going on ten years now.”

“We’re glad to meet you,” Judy declared cordially. She introduced Miss Ward and the girls, and then added: “Bart Ranieau told us that you once owned Calico Cottage--or rather, the old homestead that stood on the same foundation.”

“That’s right,” Old Captain Hager agreed, his leathery face wrinkling into a scowl. “I found myself in low water, financially speaking. That blasted, penny-squeezin’ Krumm kept pestering me, until finally I sold him the place.”

“Tell us, Captain Hager,” urged Kathleen, “did the house have a ghost when you lived there?”

A knowing smile overspread the old man’s face. “Well, yes, and no,” he said. “I advised Krumm to put in a new foundation, but he let me know he would do it his own way. So now he has a ghost! Ha!”

“Does the old foundation have anything to do with the ghost?” Virginia asked, looking puzzled.

Old Captain Hager acted as if he had not heard the question. He fussed with the painter of the rowboat for a moment, and then remarked offhand:

“So you gals have met Bart Ranieau? Now there’s a fine lad, smart as a whip and with the courage of a young lion. He told you about Hager’s Hole?”

“Calico Cave?” inquired Judy.

“Hager’s Hole,” the old man repeated. “I don’t take stock of that new fancy name Krumm tacked on. Bart told you about his father losing his life in the cave?”

“Why no!” exclaimed Judy.

“He did say something about an explorer trying to find the cave’s exit, and never being heard of again,” Virginia added.

“That was Bart’s father,” the Captain informed her. “His son’s a chip off the old block. Lots of sand in the craw! Bart’s trying to work his way through college by peddlin’ milk. Aye, he’s an up and comer!”

“How did Bart’s father lose his life?” Miss Ward inquired.

The old captain’s gaze swept the river and lifted to fasten thoughtfully upon the dark entranceway of Calico Cave.

“No one knows,” he replied. “Not for sure. Folks say though, that it was the siphon that did for him.”

“What’s a siphon?” demanded Kathleen.

“Hager’s Hole has an underground river,” he related. “Where it empties no one knows. Deep in the cave is a grotto, so beautiful it will blast your eyes! The underground stream must have hollowed it out ages ago, then bored its way on through the rock.

“By wading waist-deep and finally neck-deep in water one can follow the river for awhile. Then the ceiling dips until water and roof meet. That’s your siphon.”

“A stretch of water between the rocks, with no roof space above?” Judy questioned.

“Aye.”

“Bart’s father tried to go through the siphon?” Miss Ward inquired soberly.

“He knew he was risking his life, but spelunkers don’t have good sense when it comes to explorin’ caves. Bart’s father was obsessed with the idea he had to find the exit to Hager’s Hole. He gambled his life, figuring he could dive through the siphon and find an air space beyond.”

“No one ever learned for certain what became of Mr. Ranieau?” The question was asked by Judy who sat cross-legged on the dock, listening intently to every word of the story.

“His clothes were found in the grotto, tied in a neat bundle. That’s all that ever was known. A watch was kept at the siphon for days, but there never was a sound or a signal of any kind. That was a long while ago, and now Bart’s sailin’ the same course as his dad, hauntin’ that cave, and dreamin’ about it at night. I’m right worried about the lad.”

“You’re afraid he’ll meet with mishap in the cave?” questioned Miss Ward.

“Bart knows his way in that cavern like it was his own ship,” the old captain replied. “What worries me, Ma’am, is that he’s obsessed with finding out what became of his father. He keeps talking about the siphon, speculatin’ on whether a strong swimmer couldn’t get through. One of these days he may be rash enough to try it.”

“Calico Cave--Hager’s Hole, I mean,” Kathleen corrected herself, “must be a fascinating place. You’ve been in the cave many times I suppose?”

“Aye, in my younger day, I went there right often.”

“Then you must have seen the White Witch!” cried Judy, her brown eyes dancing.

“Aye,” Captain Hager agreed reminiscently. “Aye.” He became absorbed in deep thought.

Judy broke into his meditation to ask how long it would take to reach the formation after one left the cave entrance.

“Ten minutes,” the captain estimated. “It’s easy walkin’. But don’t you gals try it by yourself. If you’re aimin’ to go into that cave, you need a guide.”

“We do, indeed!” cried Judy. She sprang to her feet, seizing the captain’s hand so unexpectedly that he nearly dropped his pipe. “Oh, Captain Hager, will you take us? Please, will you guide us to the White Witch?”

_Chapter 11_

SPELL OF THE CAVE

Captain Hager’s remarks about the cave had stirred the imagination of the Scouts, and even Miss Ward thought it would be interesting to explore the cavern for a short distance.

“Would it be safe, do you think?” she asked, as Captain Hager seemed to be giving Judy’s request sober consideration.

“It’s safe enough, Ma’am,” he assured her. “The only danger lies in going too far without a guide.”

“No rock falls?”

“Never heard of one in all the years I’ve lived hereabouts.”

“Then do take us, Captain Hager!” Judy urged again, prancing excitedly about the dock. “We haven’t much time, because the camp station wagon is to come for us at ten thirty. Please, could we start right now?”

“Dash it, I was calculatin’ on anchorin’ for a comfortable snooze,” the captain complained good-naturedly. “But if them’s my sailing orders, we’ll cast off for the cave!”

The old man told the Scouts and their leader to meet him at the entranceway of Hager’s Hole. He promised to join them there as soon as he had gone to his nearby river shack to leave his fishing equipment and pick up a few items he would want for the trip.

Taking leave of the old man, the girls swiftly climbed the slope to the cave. Captain Hager did not keep them waiting long.

Within fifteen minutes, they glimpsed his bent figure coming along the path. He had changed his shoes, put on a blue jacket, and carried a lantern.

Before leading the way into the cave, Captain Hager told the group something of its history. The cavern, he related, was known to have been in existence in early Indian days--the exact date of its origin never would be established.

“Now there are all types of caves,” he went on, warming to his subject. “Tunnel caves, river system caves, fissure caves--no two ever are the same, and that’s what makes ’em so interesting to explorers. This one starts with a sort of sinkhole entrance. It narrows down for a distance and then opens up into a chamber where you’ll see the White Witch. That’s as far as most folks ever go.”

“It won’t take us too long to see the formation?” Miss Ward asked, looking anxiously at her wrist watch. “We haven’t much time.”

“Ten minutes, ma’am, to walk to the chamber. The climb back will take longer. I’m not as spry as I was in the old days.”

“We can spare an hour,” Miss Ward decided.

Captain Hager instructed the girls to follow him, single-file. Miss Ward brought up the rear of the procession to make certain that none of her charges wandered out of line.

Cautiously, and with awe, the Scouts moved into the entrance chamber of the cave. A considerable current of air moved in the cavern, nearly lifting Kathleen’s beret from her head.

The room in which the girls found themselves, though dark, was neither damp nor musty. By the light of Captain Hager’s lantern, they distinguished smoke-blackened limestone walls, and on the floor were the dead ashes of a small fire.

“Someone has been in here lately,” the guide remarked. “Not Bart, because he wouldn’t bother with a fire. He does most of his exploring in a bathing suit.”

“A bathing suit!” gasped Miss Ward, truly astonished. “I should think he’d freeze to death.”

“Not that lad,” chuckled the captain. He had rested his lantern for a moment on a rocky ledge. “The temperature of this cave is the same, summer or winter. Bart wears a bathing suit because he can crawl through narrow places better than if he had on bulky clothes. And when he gets wet, he says he stays warmer and dries out faster.”

“Dear me, there’s more to this exploration of caves than I realized,” commented Miss Ward. “We’ll not get wet, I trust?”

“No, Ma’am,” the captain promised. “There’s no water down to the level where we’re going. Keep your eyes out for bats though--not that the little creatures will harm you.”

“Bats!” Virginia squealed. “Horrors!”

“They won’t hurt you,” the captain repeated. “Not even if you touch ’em with your hand. Sometimes they’re packed in on the walls as tight as a swarm o’ bees. Then if they’re disturbed, the whole mass may take flight. Bats are strange creatures.”

“Ardeth should be assigned to capture one for the camp treasure chest!” Judy chuckled.

“We’ll go below, now,” the captain announced. “Follow me closely, and don’t do too much talkin’. Sound echoes in a cave and is magnified. Full steam ahead!”

Step by step, the Scouts descended the narrow passageway. The slope was an easy one, but it seemed endless. Unable to judge distance underground, the girls imagined they had gone a long ways when finally the captain brought up in a gallery approximately sixteen feet wide.

Walls of the room were covered with limestone ridges and there were a few interesting stalagmites and stalactites. Captain Hager struck one of the latter with his stout walking stick, and it gave forth a musical ring.

Waiting until the entire party had clustered about, he slowly moved his lantern so that it threw a circular, shadowy light on a dark portion of the gallery.

The girls sucked in their breath, uttering exclamations of surprise and awe.

There before them, was the cave witch!

Tall and skinny, she appeared to lean on a long, white staff. The ice-like figure, the girls knew, had been formed by stalagmites and stalactites which over the years had grown together in weird formation.

For a long while they stood silent, held by the ghostly spell of the old witch. In the dead stillness, they could hear the rush of the mysterious hidden river far below them. A cold gust of air blew across the gallery, causing the Scouts to pull their jackets more closely about them.

“How real that old witch looks!” Judy whispered, finally breaking the silence. “No wonder folks make up tales about this cave.”

Keeping his voice low to prevent echo, Captain Hager explained that the dripstone formations were called stalactites when they hung from the limestone ceiling and stalagmites if they rose from the cave floor.

“Each icicle-like formation, if broken, shows growth rings not unlike those of a tree,” he related. Some, he told the Scouts, grew very rapidly, while others were years in the making.

“Usually each stalactite has a small hole in the center through which the water flows to drip off the end,” he went on. “When the drip-off strikes the floor, it sometimes builds up a stalagmite as you see them here. When the two unite, you may get any variety of weird shapes.”

“Oh, dear,” protested Kathleen, “you’re taking all the magic away from the White Witch, Captain Hager! I prefer to imagine that she is pure white stone.”

Virginia inquired if there were other interesting formations deeper down in the cave?

“Aye, in the gallery below, there’s one Bart calls the Grand Ballroom. Farther on, there’s a Frozen Waterfall, or flowstone, as it’s called. You can see needles and toadstools and totem poles.”

“Oh, Captain Hager, take us on!” pleaded Ardeth. “Only as far as the Ballroom. This cave is so fascinating.”

Before the captain could answer, Miss Ward interposed firmly: “No, girls. Perhaps some other day, if we have a guide, we can return.”

“The camp station wagon will be at Calico Cottage before we are, if we don’t hurry,” declared Kathleen. “This is such a wonderful grotto, I hate to leave, but we must.”

Regretfully, the others agreed that further exploration of the cave must be postponed. Leading the way with the lantern, Captain Hager began the steep climb. He moved slowly and in the narrow passageway, his heavy breathing was so loud that those behind him could hear it plainly.

“I’m not as spry as I was ten years ago,” the old man confessed when the party presently reached the cave exit. “Going down is easy enough, but when I throw ’er in reverse, my ticker starts to pound.”

“We shouldn’t have pressed you into taking us to see the old witch,” Judy apologized.

“I was glad to do it,” the captain insisted. “Anyway, I’m not ready yet to let old age get to the windward of me! No, sir!”

The Scouts thanked their guide for taking them on the expedition. Saying goodbye, they hastened along the rocky path to the private road, thence to Calico Cottage. To their relief, the camp station wagon had not yet arrived.

“What a wonderful morning!” Kathleen declared, sitting down on the porch steps to think over the exciting things she had seen inside the cave. “I wish all the girls at Pine Cone Camp could see the White Witch!”

“Perhaps it can be arranged,” Miss Ward remarked. “I’ll talk to Miss Lubell about it and see what she thinks. Caves certainly are educational.”

“Captain Hager knows a lot about them too,” contributed Judy. “He told us a great deal, but I have a hunch there’s more he left unsaid.”

“About the White Witch?” inquired Virginia.

“The White Witch and maybe some other things,” she hinted. “Both Captain Hager and Bart seem to dislike Mr. Krumm. If it weren’t for that personal feeling, I suspect they might tell us more about the ghost of Calico Cottage.”

_Chapter 12_

THE PRIVATE ROAD

After lunch at Pine Cone Camp, the Scouts busied themselves washing their clothes and cleaning the Beaver Patrol tent. Miss Lubell sent word by one of the counselors that other quarters would be available for the girls by nightfall.

“I guess we’ll have no excuse for staying at Calico Cottage tonight,” Judy said regretfully. “You know, that boy with the flute intrigues me!”

“Everyone in camp has heard about him,” added Ardeth as she hung a blouse on the line to dry. “We’re being teased no end. If we don’t solve the mystery before we leave here, we’ll never hear the last of it.”

Miss Ward had overheard the conversation, and interposed a word. “It might be well for a couple of Scouts to stay with Judy’s aunt tonight,” she proposed. “I’m satisfied that the cottage is safe, but strange sounds at night can be most disturbing to a nervous person alone.”

“I’ll stay with Aunt Mattie, if I may,” Judy promptly volunteered.

“I’d like to myself,” added Ardeth. “While I’m there, I want to visit the cave again. If I could get one of those bats we heard about, we’d have a fine entry for the nature treasure chest.”

“The cave is out-of-bounds without a guide,” Miss Ward returned. “I talked to Miss Lubell about it. She thinks we may be able to arrange a tour for the entire camp later this week. The problem is to find a suitable guide. It seems that with the exception of Bart and Captain Hager, few persons go near the place.”

“Someone has been in there lately,” Judy said, reminding the teacher of the dead camp fire ashes they had seen at the cave entrance.

Shortly before two o’clock, the station wagon took Miss Ward, Judy and Ardeth to the village depot. A smoky haze hung over the mountainside, and the girls were somewhat disturbed to learn that a small forest fire had broken out across the river on Brady’s Ridge.

Enroute to the station they met a forest service truck and passed a ranger with a portable radio on his shoulder.

The driver of the station wagon pulled up, to ask the forest service man if the situation was considered at all serious.

“Everything’s under control,” the ranger assured him. “It’s a small brush fire. We’re keeping a close watch of the entire area though.”

“How did the fire start?” inquired Miss Ward.

The ranger shrugged. “Perhaps from a carelessly dropped cigarette. Or a motorist may have tossed a match out of a car window. The fire apparently started close to the road. You folks will be all right, if you don’t try to cross the river. Keep on this side.”

The haze of smoke hung low as the station wagon parked near the depot. Judy sniffed the fumes and coughed.

“What a welcome for Aunt Mattie!” she remarked. “She’ll be scared to death that the fire will spread to this side of the river. And if we tell her about the ghost--”

“I don’t believe I’d do that,” Miss Ward advised. “And least not for a day or so. Why disturb her unnecessarily?”

“You’re right,” Judy promptly agreed. “If the ghost makes any more trouble, Aunt Mattie will find out about it soon enough. Mum’s the word.”

The train proved to be half an hour late. Finally it rumbled in, throwing up dust and cinders. Aunt Mattie Meadows was on the last Pullman car. She was a jolly-faced woman of forty-two, well turned out in a trim gray suit, with a white carnation in the lapel.

“Hi, Aunt Mattie!” Judy cried, rushing to greet her.

Miss Meadows enfolded her niece in a warm embrace, and then held her off at arm’s length for a better view.

“Why, you’re brown as an Indian!” she exclaimed. “What have you done to your complexion?”

“Liberal doses of sun, wind and lake water,” Judy chuckled. She turned to present Miss Ward and Ardeth.

Miss Meadows greeted them, made a few casual remarks and then sniffed the air. “Goodness! Do I smell smoke?” she demanded. “Is something on fire?”

“Only a little brush across the river,” Judy said carelessly. She picked up her aunt’s suitcase and started for the station wagon. “Nothing to worry about.”

Aunt Mattie kept sniffing the air. “Dear me, it doesn’t seem a little fire could make so much smoke. Judy, are you quite sure there’s no danger? You’re not keeping anything from me?”

“The ranger assured us there is no danger. Don’t give it a thought, Aunt Mattie.”

Miss Meadows fell silent as she was escorted to the waiting station wagon. Nevertheless, she kept gazing toward the horizon in the direction of the river.

Going up the winding mountain road, the woman became increasingly ill at ease. At each sharp turn, she instinctively braced herself, as if fearing the car would roll off into a ravine.

“I hope you rented a nice cottage for me, Judy,” she chatted. “You didn’t write me a word about it.”

“There wasn’t time, Aunt Mattie. In fact, we didn’t have any choice in selecting the cottage. We had to take the only place available.”

“Is it a quiet place? I’ve had a hard, tiring year, and I do want to have complete rest.”

“Well, Calico Cottage is off the beaten path,” Judy replied evasively. “How quiet it will prove to be no one can predict.”

The station wagon rounded a curve and slowed to a standstill. Peering ahead, the girls saw that a wooden barrier had been placed across part of the highway, blocking traffic.

“Now what?” murmured Judy. “This wasn’t here when we came down the mountain an hour ago.”

A state highway patrolman came over to the station wagon. Recognizing the driver and the occupants, he told them they might proceed.

“We’re checking every car,” he told the group. “We have a report some hi-jackers, who took a truck at Oelwein, are coming this way. With the forest service tied up fighting a forest fire, and most of our men helping ’em, they probably figured they could slip a cargo through.”

“Hi-jackers!” Aunt Mattie exclaimed in dismay. “Judy, what sort of a place is this?”

“Never a dull moment,” Judy responded lightly. “You’ll love it here!”

“Judy, tell her about your meeting with Joe--” Ardeth began, only to let her voice trail off as Miss Ward directed a warning glance in her direction.

The station wagon moved on past the barrier and drew up presently at Calico Cottage. Aunt Mattie, who had fallen into a weary silence, suddenly revived at sight of the little house.

“Why, it’s charming!” she cried. “Judy, you couldn’t have found a nicer place. So peaceful looking, set back among the trees.”

“Let’s hope Calico Cottage lives up to its appearance,” Judy said, leading the way across the lawn. “Ardeth and I thought we’d stay with you tonight, so you won’t be lonesome. Do you mind?”

“I’ll be happy to have you! I’m not afraid to stay alone at night, but I’ll admit I’ll rest easier with someone in the house. Especially with a forest fire burning at my doorstep, and hi-jackers on the main highway!”

“It’s not that bad,” Judy protested.

After seeing that Miss Meadows was comfortably settled in the cottage, Miss Ward decided to return with the station wagon driver to Pine Cone Camp. Before leaving, she talked privately with Judy.

“Everything should be all right here,” she said, “but if by chance anything does go wrong, call me at once.”

“We’ll be safe and comfortable,” Judy insisted. “No more ghost scares I hope.”

“Miss Lubell put a stop to that,” the teacher informed her. “We checked and learned that it was the Lone Tree girls who attached the bed sheet to the bushes. They’ve promised not to pull any more tricks.”

After the station wagon had departed, Judy and Ardeth helped Miss Meadows unpack. Her enthusiasm for the cottage was boundless. She was especially delighted with the kitchen and went about poking in the high cupboards over the sink.

“Tomorrow when I am rested, I’ll straighten all the dishes and rearrange them more to my liking,” she announced. “I never feel that I’m settled in a place until I’ve cleaned the cupboards.”

With the supplies on hand, Aunt Mattie cooked a magnificent supper, topping it off with biscuits and a custard pie. The meal finished, she suddenly collapsed from weariness, leaving the dishes for Judy and Ardeth.

“I declare, I don’t know what’s come over me,” she apologized. “The long train ride must have worn me out. I can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Go straight to bed, Aunt Mattie. Ardeth and I will take care of everything.”

“I believe I will turn in,” Miss Meadows said, covering a yawn. “You’ll be sure to lock all the doors?”

“Every one,” Judy promised.

The sink was fairly loaded with dishes, for Aunt Mattie did not skimp on them when she cooked a meal. After scouring the last stubborn pan, Judy hung up the dish rag with a tired sigh.

“Shall we turn in?” she asked Ardeth.

“We may as well, I guess. Wonder what the girls are doing at Pine Cone?”

“Singing songs and telling stories by the camp fire, like as not. Wish you were there, Ardeth?”

“Someone should stay here this first night with your aunt. I don’t mind, Judy. Do you suppose--”

“We’ll have a serenade from our friend with the flute?” Judy supplied. “For Aunt Mattie’s sake I hope not. If she hears about a ghost on top of hi-jackers and a forest fire, she’s likely to pack her suitcase and leave.”

Ardeth had moved to the open kitchen door. “There isn’t as much smoke in the air now,” she reported. “Either the wind is carrying it the other direction, or the fire has died down.”

After closing the windows and making certain the doors were locked, the two girls presently went to their bedroom which adjoined the one Miss Meadows had taken.

Judy secretly had made up her mind she would lie awake a long while to be sure that nothing went amiss in the cottage. However, her bed was so pleasantly comfortable, that despite her firm resolution, she dozed off almost at once.

When finally she awakened, it was to find herself being shaken by Ardeth.

“Get up, lazy!” the latter ordered. “It’s late! Your aunt has been up for at least half an hour.”

“Jumping fishes!” Judy exclaimed in dismay, dragging herself from beneath the covers. “I must have slept like a log all night.”

“I know I did,” Ardeth confessed. “What a fine pair of guards we proved to be!”

“Well, at least nothing went wrong here,” Judy said, pulling on her shoes. “I’m relieved on that score.”

Dressing fast, the girls hastened to the kitchen. Miss Meadows had the stove going and was cooking cereal. She appeared pale, however, and there were dark shadows under her eyes.

“Did you sleep well, Aunt Mattie?” Judy asked politely.

“Very badly.”

Judy and Ardeth exchanged a quick, worried glance. Both hesitated to ask the question which was foremost in their minds.

“Did--did anything disturb you?” Judy managed finally.

“I never sleep well the first night in a strange place. I was awake for hours.”

Judy drew a long breath and grinned at Ardeth. But her relief was brief. For Aunt Mattie went on impressively:

“I’m not sure I’ll like this place as well as I thought last night. There’s entirely too much traffic on the side road.”

“You mean the main road, don’t you, Aunt Mattie?” Judy corrected.

Miss Meadows stirred the pot of cereal on the stove. “I mean that highway that runs down the hill toward the river.”

“Why, that’s a private road and it dead-ends,” Judy responded. “There’s never any traffic in that direction.”

“There was last night,” Miss Meadows insisted firmly. “A truck came along the highway and stopped so that the headbeams shone almost directly into my window. The driver flashed them on and off several times as if in signal. Then, the lights were doused, and the truck turned down the side road.”

“I can’t imagine a truck using that road at night,” Judy said thoughtfully. “The road doesn’t go anywhere except to the cave. Perhaps you were mistaken, Aunt Mattie. Don’t you think the truck might have gone on down the main highway?”

“I don’t think so,” Miss Meadows replied. “No, I’m sure the truck turned down the side road.”

No more was said about the matter then. But after the breakfast dishes had been done, Ardeth and Judy slipped outside for a private talk.

“Do you suppose your aunt was right about those truck lights?” Ardeth asked, lowering her voice so it would not carry through the open kitchen window. “And what about that signal?”

“She must have been mistaken,” Judy replied anxiously. “All the same, we certainly should investigate. Come on, Ardeth! If that truck turned down the dead-end road, there will be tire marks to prove it.”

_Chapter 13_

THE MISSING KEY

Cutting across the lawn which was heavy with dew, the two girls turned toward the entrance to the private road. A haze of smoke still hung above the treetops, but it was evident that the fire which had alarmed everyone the previous day, now was well under control.

Suddenly, Judy halted, staring at tire marks on the dirt road.

“Aunt Mattie was right!” she exclaimed. “A big truck did turn off the main highway!”

“The tire prints are plain to see,” Ardeth agreed, equally startled. “But what would a heavy truck be doing here? The road dead-ends.”

“It seems odd.”

“Perhaps the driver only pulled off the pavement to fix a tire.”

Judy shook her head. “The tracks plainly go down the slope toward the cave,” she pointed out.

“Mightn’t it have been a forest ranger fire fighting truck?”

“That’s so,” Judy acknowledged, “it might have been. Maybe that would explain the headlight signals Aunt Mattie reported seeing. I can’t imagine though, why a Forest Service truck would use this road at night. The fire was across the river.”

As the girls considered whether to go farther down the private road, they heard the rattle of a milk wagon approaching on the main highway.

“It’s Bart!” Judy cried.

The delivery truck stopped some distance away, but after milk had been left at Calico Cottage, came on down the road. Bart drew up to chat with the girls.

“How’s everything?” he inquired cheerfully. “Your ghost behaving himself?”

Judy replied that the household had not been disturbed further by the mysterious flute player. She added, however, that her aunt had slept badly and that lights from a truck had bothered her.

“I guess it must have been a Forest Service truck that went down this road last night,” Ardeth remarked. “See the tire tracks.”

Bart already had stepped out of the milk wagon to inspect them.

“Those weren’t made by a Forest Service truck,” he told the girls. “Their vehicles are lighter. Anyway, I don’t know what a forest truck would be doing here late at night. Seems sort of queer--”

“I thought so myself!” Judy said quickly.

“Let’s have a look-see,” Bart proposed. “Want to ride down the hill with me? If you do, hop in!”

Judy and Ardeth scrambled into the cab, taking care not to step on Pete who was asleep on the floor.

“Do you dare leave your milk route?” Ardeth asked the young driver.

“I’m ahead of schedule this morning,” Bart answered. “I can take a few minutes. This is my last week on the route anyway.”

“You’re taking another job?” Ardeth inquired politely.

By this time the milk truck had turned and was moving slowly down the narrow, rutty road.

“Not exactly,” Bart admitted. “I’ve saved enough money to see me through a year of college. I’m laying off because I want to do a little exploring before I start in at school this fall.”

“Exploring?” Judy repeated with interest. “Of the cavern?”

“That’s right.” Bart grinned, as he slowed down for a bad hole in the road. “Folks hereabouts think I’m crazy to spend so much time in a cave. It’s in my blood, I guess! I’m planning on becoming a scientist if I make the grade.”

“Does Calico Cave have any bats or other interesting birds or animals?” Ardeth questioned abruptly.

“Hundreds of bats. You can see them clustered in masses on the walls in one section of the cave, near the entrance.”

“Ugh!” Judy shuddered.

“Why, they’re harmless,” Bart assured her. “I suppose you think of a bat as a naked, winged creature with claws that would catch in your hair?”

“I never came very close to one,” Judy admitted, “but I do feel that way about them.”

“Like a great many folks, you do the bat an injustice,” Bart returned. “Its little claws are used only to provide a means of clinging to a rock wall. Bats are afraid of people. They fly at amazing speed, but they can dodge any obstacle.”

“They sleep in the caves?” Ardeth questioned.

“Yes, the bat, you know, is descended from an animal that lived in a warm, uniform climate. For some reason, the bat never has been able to adapt itself to weather changes, so it hibernates in caves which have an almost constant temperature.”

“I’d give anything if I had a bat!” Ardeth announced. “Just one!”

“A bat? What would you want with it?” Bart asked, rather amused by the remark.

Ardeth told him about the nature treasure chest at Pine Cone Camp. “Our unit hasn’t contributed anything, as yet,” she added. “If I could get one of those bats, we’d really be the talk of the camp.”

“I think I can get you one,” Bart offered, glancing at his wristwatch. “You’re serious about wanting it?”

“Oh, yes, but I don’t want to delay you on your run.”

“If the bats are where I think they’ll be, I can pick one off the wall in a minute or two,” Bart promised. “Want to go into the cave with me?”

“I don’t think we should without permission from our leader,” Judy said quickly.

“I can travel faster alone at any rate,” the young milkman replied.

As the milk truck rattled on down the winding road, he talked enthusiastically about bats and their habits.

The creatures, he told the girls, had silky, translucent wings and flew with astonishing precision.

“I’ve seen ’em fly between water and ceiling down deep in the cave where there was barely clearance,” he related. “Now, if only I were a bat, I’d explore that siphon!”

“You shouldn’t even think of such a thing!” Judy chided. “It would be frightfully dangerous.”

Bart made no answer.

“You’re not considering it, are you?” Judy demanded, alarmed by his silence.

“I’ve considered it for years,” Bart answered soberly. “I think about it all the time, in fact. I’ve just about decided--” he deliberately broke off, and finished: “Now to tell you more about bats--they hang to the ceilings by their feet, head down. Their bodies are covered by their long, folded wings when they sleep. One can pick them off the wall, and they make no fuss.”

“Ardeth, must you have a bat?” Judy tried to discourage her.

“Oh, yes, if I can get one without causing too much trouble. But how will I get it to camp?”

Bart had pulled up at the end of the private road. From the back end of the truck, he brought out a cardboard box with a cover.

“We can use this,” he suggested. “I may not get a bat for you though. I haven’t long to ramble through the cave this trip.”

Tucking the cardboard box under his arm, the cheerful young milkman stepped from the truck. Alertly he gazed at a sizeable slick of oil on the roadside, remarking that it evidently had leaked from the parked truck.

“Apparently, it stayed here quite a while last night before turning around and pulling out,” he added.

“What would a truck be doing down here late at night?” Judy speculated.

“I wouldn’t know,” Bart answered with a shrug. “Interesting question though.”

He started off down the path which led to Calico Cave. Before vanishing from view amid the bushes, he paused to fling over his shoulder: “Don’t try to follow me, even if I’m not back in a few minutes. Wait in the milk wagon.”

Ten minutes elapsed, then fifteen and twenty. Eagerly the girls began to watch the path for their friend to reappear.

The rising sun beat down harder and harder on the milk wagon, causing Judy and Ardeth increasing discomfort. They became restless.

“It’s taking Bart an awfully long time,” Ardeth remarked uneasily. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked him to get a bat for me. If anything should happen--”

“He’ll be along soon,” Judy said. “I think I hear him coming now.”

She was right, for a moment later, the young milkman emerged from the tunnel of branches at the trail’s exit.

“Did you get one?” Ardeth cried eagerly.

“Sure did,” Bart responded.

Coming over to the milk truck, he opened the punctured lid of the cardboard box, so that the girls could peep at the frightened creature flopping inside.

“After you’ve displayed him at camp, better let him fly away,” the milkman advised. “He’ll find his way back to the cave.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to keep him shut up,” Ardeth replied. “That would be cruel. I promise to let him go by tonight.”

“Fine!” Bart approved, climbing into the milk wagon and starting the motor. “Now I want you girls to make me another one.”

“Another promise?” asked Ardeth, carefully holding the box Bart had placed in her hands.

“Yes, I want you to stay away from here unless you’re with a forest ranger or some man.”

“Away from the cave, you mean?” Judy questioned, rather surprised by the request.

“From the cave, and also away from this private road.”

“But why?”

“I’ll tell you,” Bart said soberly. By this time he had turned the milk truck around in the narrow road and had headed it up the hill. “There’s something going on here that will bear investigation.”

“The truck tire tracks, you mean?” interposed Ardeth, mystified by the remark.

“At first, that didn’t seem very disturbing,” Bart said. “But I’ve since made a discovery. That was why it took me so long.”

“You didn’t run into anyone in the cave?” Judy asked quickly.

“No, but someone has been there recently. Last night probably.”

“How do you know?”

“Someone had trampled the path to the cave. Boot tracks. Then inside the entrance chamber, I found cigarette butts and long marks, showing where heavy objects had been dragged across the floor. Boxes, I’d judge.”

“All removed?” Judy questioned.

“Yes, no sign of anyone or anything in the cave now.”

“You think someone must have come here last night in that truck and used the cave?”

“Obviously, Judy. But don’t quiz me, because I’ve told you everything I learned. I’m not venturing any guesses as to who it was or why the person or persons came here late at night. My advice is just to keep clear of the place until we can learn what’s going on.”

“Judy and I are returning to camp this morning,” Ardeth informed the young milkman. “So even if we wanted to prowl around, we wouldn’t have an opportunity.”

“That’s all to the good then,” Bart grinned. “There may be no cause for alarm, but it’s just as well not to take chances.”

At the turn-off onto the paved road, he said goodbye to the Scouts and resumed his milk route.

Triumphantly, Ardeth and Judy bore their captured bat to Calico Cottage where they displayed it to Miss Meadows. Though they related how they had obtained the creature, they did not repeat Bart’s warning or mention what they had learned about the big truck.

Miss Meadows seemed to have forgotten the disturbance of the previous night completely. After making a show of admiring the imprisoned bat, she chirped:

“While you girls were away, I cleaned the cupboards.”

“They’re very neat and tidy now,” Judy said, opening the double doors to inspect the rows of china.

“At the back of the cupboard, I found a key,” Miss Meadows remarked casually. She produced it from her apron pocket. “Apparently, it fits a door. But which one I wouldn’t know.”

Judy rocked back on her heels and looked quickly at Ardeth. Neither spoke for a moment.

Finally, Judy trusted her voice. Taking care to keep it steady, to give no hint of her excitement and hope, she said quietly:

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that key fits the cellar door, Aunt Mattie.”

“Why, it might at that.”

Judy forced herself to speak casually, as if the matter were of no great moment.

“The key looks about the right size,” she remarked. “Do you mind if I try it?”

_Chapter 14_

A FAMILIAR FACE

Miss Meadows willingly relinquished the key which she had found in the kitchen cupboard.

Judy fitted it in the door lock and was elated when it turned readily. Her pose of indifference instantly dissolved.

“Now we can get into the cellar!” she exulted. “Whoopee!”

Miss Meadows could not understand her niece’s exuberance. The key was only an ordinary one so far as she knew, and until that moment she scarcely had noted that the basement was closed off.

The opening of the cellar door had brought a whiff of stale, cool air into the kitchen.

Poised at the head of the long flight of stone stairs, Judy peered down into the darkness. In vain she groped for a light switch.

“I guess the cellar never was equipped with electricity,” she remarked. “I’ll get my flashlight.”

She ran to the bedroom, returning a moment later to find Miss Meadows regarding the stairway with disapproval.

“Need we go down there, Judy?” she asked to discourage her. “Since the door was locked, the cottage owner might prefer us to keep it so.”

“Oh, we can relock the door,” Judy answered, flashing her light over the rough brick wall along the steep stairway. “First though, I want to see what’s below.”

Focusing her light upon the uneven stone steps, she cautiously started down.

“Watch your footing,” she advised Ardeth and her aunt, who followed close behind. “These steps are narrow and worn.”

Miss Meadows remarked that the cellar seemed very old in contrast to the new cottage.

“It is old,” Judy agreed. “When Mr. Krumm built the cottage, he tried to save money by using the foundation of Captain Hager’s place.”

Judy negotiated the stairway safely and waited for the others at a jagged doorway which opened into the main cellar chamber.

The basement was very still, except for the shuffle of the descending feet.

“No musical chimes or the like?” Ardeth demanded with a suppressed giggle as she reached the bottom of the stairway.

Moving through the stone archway, the three found themselves in a large room. The chamber was dry, but nevertheless gave forth a musty odor.

The ancient brick walls were lined with shelves, all of which appeared empty. In fact, the only visible objects in the room were a half dozen old barrels. The casks lay helter-skelter, some on their sides, and others up-ended.

Judy deliberately walked around the barrels, inspecting them closely and kicking at them with her foot. All gave forth a hollow sound, which echoed in the chamber room.

Satisfied that every cask was empty, Judy next turned her attention to a smaller storage closet off to the left.

“This must have been the fruit and vegetable storage room,” she declared. “It’s been cleaned out though.”

The shelves were completely bare, and the roving flashlight revealed only an undisturbed layer of dust.

“We’ve seen everything,” Ardeth said, losing interest. “I think we should be getting upstairs. The camp station wagon will be coming for us any minute now.”

It was well that they had cut short their inspection of the basement, for within five minutes the camp station wagon drove up.

In a flurry to be off, Judy and Ardeth hurriedly gathered their few belongings and the precious bat from Calico Cave.

“Now have a good time in camp and don’t keep trying to look after me,” Miss Meadows admonished as she bade the girls goodbye. “Drop by whenever you feel like it, but don’t think you have to stay here over night.”

“I don’t like you to remain alone,” Judy began only to have her aunt interrupt.

“Nonsense! I’ll be all right. Now run along, and enjoy your friends.”

In truth, Judy was somewhat relieved to know that there was no reason for the Scouts to remain each night at Calico Cottage. Although the mysterious flute sounds had not been explained, and might never be, she and Ardeth had convinced themselves that no danger lurked in the cellar.

As for Bart’s warning not to go near the cave without a male escort, Judy decided that to pass on the admonition to her aunt, might only cause uneasiness.

“Aunt Mattie never will set foot inside that cave,” she reflected. “So why worry her needlessly? She’ll probably never see those truck lights again.”

At Pine Cone Camp a few minutes later, Judy and Ardeth created a sensation by producing their captive bat. The other Scouts generously credited the Beaver Patrol girls with having the very best treasure chest entry. Everyone was satisfied when Miss Lubell announced that they had won the competition.

“We certainly got in just under the wire,” Ardeth chuckled, when informed that her bat had taken first honors. “Now I’ll let him fly away, and hope he returns to Calico Cave safely.”

Making up for time which of necessity had been spent away from camp, Judy had a wonderful day with her friends. She swam, went sailboating, and in the late afternoon helped set the table for the evening meal.

Later that night, all the girls enjoyed a sing-fest and took part in folk dancing.

“What a grand day!” Judy declared blissfully as she sought her tent a few minutes before the “lights out” signal. “I hope Aunt Mattie doesn’t run into trouble. I feel guilty, knowing she’s alone at the cottage.”

She dropped off to sleep quickly, determined to check on affairs at Calico Cottage the first thing in the morning.

Judy’s intentions were the very best. Nevertheless, she awoke late and was hard pressed to dress and be on time for breakfast. Thereafter, she found herself assigned to kitchen detail with Beverly and Kathleen.

The three spent until lunch time peeling apples for pie and washing vegetables. Even after luncheon, Judy did not get to a telephone, for the unit leader hurried her off to her tent to prepare for a hike.

In connection with the hike, the Scouts planned to visit one of the nearby ranger towers. A brisk walk through the forest brought them presently to a cleared area from which arose a tall, steel framework.

The Scouts climbed the steep stairway to a glassed-in square observation room. A ranger, who had been poring over a map on a table, greeted the visitors in a friendly way and invited them to look about.

After answering a number of questions, he showed the girls an automatic fire-finder, an instrument which permitted an observer to read with precision both vertical and horizontal angles. By means of the device, a newly discovered fire could be pinpointed, and rangers immediately dispatched to the area.

“We have a network of ten observation towers in this particular area,” he informed the Scouts. “Even so all points cannot be viewed, so we find it necessary to maintain ground patrols as well.”

“Can one see Pine Cone Camp from here?” Judy inquired.

“No, the camp is one of our blind spots, unfortunately,” the ranger replied. “Rest assured, it is well protected though. Lowell Diethelm patrols that area. His Forest Service car is equipped with radio telephone. If he should observe a fire, he immediately would notify headquarters. Ground fighters would be dispatched at once.”

“Do you have many fires here during the summer?” Kathleen inquired.

“Until this year, very few. Recently, we’ve had a number of small ones, mostly along the main highway. A few though, have been of mysterious origin.”

“Deliberately set?” questioned Judy.

“We’re beginning to wonder,” the ranger answered. “Carelessness, of course, is the underlying cause of most fires. But incendiarism runs high too. Now that so many summer campers and tourists are pouring into the area, we have to be especially watchful.”

Before leaving the observation tower, the Scouts studied the big topographical map and took turns peering through the binoculars.

“Well, come again girls,” the ranger invited as they prepared to leave. “Be careful of your fires. And remember, if you do see one, report it at once. Discovery time counts for a lot.”

Leaving the observation tower, the Scouts hiked on for another mile and a half. By the time they reached the Fountain Falls trail, everyone was beginning to feel the first pangs of hunger.

“When do we eat?” Virginia demanded.

“Soon,” promised the unit leader. “I’ll get the fire started while you girls see the falls. I obtained a permit, so we’re violating no rules to build our own.”

The girls helped gather wood. Then, while the fire was burning down to bright cherry coals, those not delegated to watch, climbed a steep path to Fountain Falls.

A veil-like spray of water fell nearly thirty feet to a rocky shelf below. Ferns and moss protruded from cracks in the limestone rock.

After admiring the sight for some minutes, the Scouts retraced their way to help with supper. Already a huge tin can was warming on the coals, filled with a fragrant chowder mixture of bacon, onions, canned corn and potatoes.

By the time Judy had toasted bread, the other simple items of the meal were ready. The crisp mountain air had given everyone enormous appetites. However, there was sufficient food for everyone.

Once the litter had been cleared away and the last marshmallow toasted, the unit leader personally supervised putting out the camp fire.

She had the girls smother it with water brought from the nearby creek. Then to make certain that not a spark remained, she covered the dead coals with a heavy layer of soil.

“Now it’s time to hike down to Silverton,” she advised the group as she consulted her watch. “The time has gone very fast.”

The downhill hike was comparatively easy and the group made faster time than had been expected. As a consequence, they arrived in the village at twenty minutes to seven.

“We’ll have a short wait until the station wagon comes,” the unit leader told the girls. “It shouldn’t be long though.”

The group had been instructed to meet their driver at Luke’s Cafe, one of the few business establishments open after six o’clock.

Accordingly, they went in, taking tables and booths. Some of the girls ordered ice cream. Judy finished hers quickly, and then left the booth to pay her bill at the counter.

Two men were seated on stools, drinking coffee and munching hamburger sandwiches.

Judy cast an indifferent glance in their direction, and than looked again, more intently. One of the men she had never seen before, but she was certain she recognized the other.

“That’s Joe Pompilli!” she thought excitedly. “The man who was hurt in the truck accident! The same hi-jacker that the State Highway Patrol wants to nail!”

As she considered what she should do, Kathleen sauntered out of another booth. Judy signaled to her.

Once Kathleen had joined her, she informed her of her suspicion.

Kathleen studied the man that Judy pointed out. “Yes, he’s the one we helped!” she whispered. “The one who was called Joe!”

“He’s wanted by the Highway Patrol,” Judy replied grimly, her mind made up. “Kathleen, stay here and keep your eye on those two men. Don’t let them recognize you, if you can prevent it. I’m going to slip out of here and telephone!”

_Chapter 15_

JUDY’S MISTAKE

Rushing out of the cafe, Judy scarcely knew which way to go. Across the street, lights were on at the corner drugstore, so she decided to seek a telephone there.

As she darted to the opposite curb, she spied one of the forest rangers, who only that moment had emerged from a barber shop.

Judy had seen the Forest Service man several times since her arrival at Pine Cone Camp and knew that his name was Lowell Diethelm.