Chapter XI: In Camp Surprise

"Isn't it dark!" voiced Belle, nestling against her sister.

"Well, we don't have many electric lights up here," chuckled the driver of the buckboard.

"How do you see the road?" asked Cora, the wagon lurching along over the rocky way, though riding much easier than an ordinary vehicle would have done, for buckboards are made for just this purpose.

"I don't try to see it," the driver said. "I let the horses pick their way. They're like cats, I reckon--can see in the dark."

"What sort of place is this Camp Surprise?" asked Jack, giving Walter, next to whom he sat, a nudge as a signal to play second to his game of questioning. "We'll get some inside information about this business," Jack said in an aside to his chum.

"Camp Surprise?" repeated the driver. "Well, it's a mighty nice place, as far as scenery goes--for them as likes scenery," he hastened to add. "I don't care much for it myself. There's a waterfall, and a little lake, though I don't reckon you could get your boat up to it," and he chuckled. "Yes, folks what come up here always like this neighborhood, and Camp Surprise is one of the best outfits around here. You boys are going to take the small bungalow, I hear."

"Yes," assented Jack. "If we get there alive!" he said quickly, for the wagon gave such a lurch that Jack, who was on his feet to assume a more comfortable position, nearly slid out.

"Oh, this isn't anything," the driver said. "That stone must 'a' been put there since I come down this afternoon," and he chuckled again. "We'll get there alive all right."

"But what I meant was," went on Jack; "what sort of place is our camp? It has a queer name, you see, and they say--at least we've heard--that queer things go on there. What are they?"

The driver was silent a moment, and then he answered:

"Well, I don't take much stock in them stories myself. I never see anything out of the way happen."

"Oh, don't spoil all the romance that way!" begged Cora. "Aren't there any ghosts?"

"Ghosts! Huh!" the man fairly snorted. "I never see any."

"But about things being taken?" ventured Bess.

"And the furniture being moved?" asked Belle.

"Humph!" and the driver seemed out of patience. "Things will be taken from almost any camp or bungalow if you don't watch 'em. Thieves up here aren't any more virtuous than in the city."

"And didn't you hear anything about chairs and tables being moved about?" asked Cora.

The driver fidgeted in his seat.

"G'lang there!" he called to his horses.

"Didn't you?" persisted Jack's sister.

"Oh, yes, there was some such story," the driver finally admitted, slowly. "But I reckon it was just boys skylarking. That was all. Boys will go into any place they can get in you know, and I reckon when they found the bungalow of Camp Surprise without any one in it they just naturally went in and cut up."

"If they try anything like that when we're around, there'll be trouble!" threatened Jack.

Cora sighed.

"All the poetry seems to be going out of it," she said. "I hoped we would have at least one visitation from the spirits."

"You may yet," Walter whispered in her ear. "In my private opinion this driver person is concealing something from us."

"Do you think so?" asked Cora, hopefully.

"Yes. He's afraid we won't stay if he tells all the horrible details of the story."

"What object would it be to him to have us stay?"

"Why, he may get a percentage on our board. Or perhaps he has the only mountain-cruising buckboard in these parts, and he doesn't want to lose trade. Have done with thy queries, Friend Jack," he went on. "We'll scare up a ghost or two for the young ladies ourselves, if this sordid and heartless driver person refuses."

Jack left off with his questions about Camp Surprise, and the conversation became general. The driver, who volunteered the information that his name was Jim Dobson, said there was good fishing in the pool of water at the foot of the cataract.

"All you have to do is to throw in your baited hook," he told the boys, "and haul out as many fish as you want for breakfast, dinner or supper."

"That sounds good!" commented Jack. "I'm glad I brought my pole."

"Same here," echoed Paul, who, when he had time, was an ardent fisherman.

Up and up, and on and on they went over the rough mountain trail, for they had to ascend to a height of about fifteen hundred feet to reach the reservation owned by a company which had divided it into camps and bungalows.

"My, but it is dark!" said Cora, after a period of silence.

A lantern was slung under the buckboard, and cast gleams of light on the ground, but the darkness seemed only blacker by contrast. The horses, however, did not seem to find any difficulties in making their way. They never stumbled, though the boys and girls tried in vain to distinguish anything like a road ahead of them. The wagon was going along in a lane of trees, which in most places met in an arch overhead, thus cutting off what little light might have come from the stars.

Occasionally there would be a break in this leafy arch, and then glimpses could be had of the star-studded sky above. It was a beautifully clear evening, and warm enough to be comfortable.

Now and then Jim Dobson spoke without being asked a question, but he was not unduly talkative. He seemed to enjoy the chatter of the young folks, chuckling now and then at some of their remarks.

As for Cora and the others they talked about everything imaginable, as you may well imagine, from the latest dance steps to what they would do now that they were really starting their summer vacation.

"Is there any golf up here?" asked Bess, who had taken up the sport to "reduce."

"Well, not enough to hurt," the driver said. "Once in a while I hear of a case, but it ain't nothing like as bad as hay fever, and there's none of that here."

"Mercy!" whispered Bess to Cora. "I guess he thinks golf is a disease!"

"Well, don't say anything. He's real nice."

"I won't. But I guess I'd better ask only plain questions after this."

"I guess so," Cora agreed.

"Come on there, boys, not that way!" the driver suddenly called, as he pulled his team to the right. "They want to take the road home," he explained. "There's a turn here."

"How you know it I can't tell," said Jack. "It's all as dark as a pocket."

"Oh, I'm used to it and so are the horses. We're on a private road now, leading to Camp Surprise. Be there in half an hour."

"Are you sure this is the right road?" asked Cora. "We don't want to be lost again," and she mentioned their going up the creek instead of the river.

"Oh, sure, this is the right road," the driver assured them.

There was silence for a little while, and suddenly Belle grasped Cora's arm, and whispered:

"What's that?"

"Where?" inquired Cora, for Belle's voice was startling.

"Over to the left--in the woods. Don't you see something white?"

Cora looked where Belle directed. At the moment the others were deep in a discussion about something of comparative unimportance.

"There!" whispered Belle, tensely, and she gripped Cora's arm hard.

"Yes--yes. I see it!"

"It--it looks like a--a ghost!"

They both saw something white that seemed to float, rather than move among the trees, and Cora was about to call it to the attention of the others when it disappeared.

"Don't say anything about it," she quickly whispered to Belle. "Of course it wasn't a ghost. It may have been a wisp of fog, or some one going through the woods. Then there's that--oh, what do they call that light which comes from rotting wood?"

"You mean _ignis fatuus_?" asked Belle.

"Yes; that's it. Will-o'-the-wisp some folks term it. It comes from phosphorus. It may have been that."

They went on a little farther, and suddenly a light shone through the woods, while a dull rumble and roar, increasing in intensity, came to the ears of all.

"What's that?" asked Jack.

"Camp Surprise," announced the driver. "That's the waterfall you hear. Here we be!" he called in louder tones, as an approaching lantern flashed through the dark forest.