MYSTERY
At the airport the boys had to wait a while until Major McCarthy showed
up. When they told him their plans, he approved heartily and assured
them that he would try his best to get them a good second hand airplane
for the money available. Then he also informed them that he was leaving
that same afternoon for New York and expected to be away about a week.
The boys would therefore have to wait, until he returned, for their
flying instructions.
On their way back to town the boys decided that in the meanwhile they
could go camping for a week. Someone mentioned that Bobolink would be
unable to come along and that therefore they should postpone their
camping trip. Paul then called their attention to the fact that for the
next month or so they would be occupied at the airport; in three weeks
they had an agreement to play a baseball game against the Ted Slavin
team and then a swimming match against the same group. “Sure,” he said,
“we won’t have another opportunity to go camping until just before
school opens and we plan to do that anyhow.”
Jack suggested, “Let’s put it up to Bobolink and then do whatever he
decides.”
They all agreed to the proposal. Bobolink, when he heard of it, urged
them to go. And they decided to leave early the following morning.
The air was fresh and clear. The dew was still on the ground. The sun
shone brightly. Stanhope was only now awakening out of its slumber
and an occasional car or truck that passed seemed to be committing
sacrilege against the peace and quiet that hung like a mantle over the
town.
Main and Chestnut Streets was the meeting point upon which they had
agreed. Paul, Jack and Ken arrived almost simultaneously. They greeted
each other with a smile. They inhaled deeply the fresh, invigorating
air that set their blood dashing through their veins. William and
Wallace arrived next and a minute later followed Nuthin’. They
conversed in whispers lest they disturb the hushed, still air that
hung everywhere about them. They were aglow with the joy of life. They
huddled together, bubbling over with excitement and anticipation.
Bluff, gasping for breath, came running up. All there, Paul, the
leader, gave the order to fall in line. Then he called out, “Forward,
march!”
They were on their way. They walked in double file; each boy was
dressed in his Scout uniform, with a knapsack on his back. As far as
the end of the town they marched in formation. Turning into the road
leading to Black Mountain, Paul gave the order to break formation. They
divided into groups of twos and threes and walked along briskly. Soon
they broke into song and during the next hour they sang every song they
ever knew.
At about eight-thirty they decided to stop for breakfast. They picked
a small clearing about a mile and a half up the slope of the mountain.
Under the direction of Paul, enough wood was soon collected to build
a fire and Ken, the official chef, set to work. It didn’t take long
to prepare the meal and soon they all sat around in a circle and ate
heartily, with gusto. After putting out the fire and cleaning up their
dishes, they decided to rest there for about half an hour. The boys
stretched out on the ground and stared up at the sky. Paul remarked
casually, “This is the life, eh fellows?”
Bluff agreed, saying, “N-n-nothing l-l-like it.”
William interrupted, calling out, “Is that so! Just wait until we learn
how to fly and have our own ship, then we’ll be able to camp anywhere
within a radius of a thousand miles.”
Jack wanted to know, “What’s the matter with camping on Black
Mountain?”
“Nothing at all,” answered William. “But just think of it: being able
to fly, being able to pilot your own airplane and going anywhere your
heart desires; and think of it, you pick out your camping ground as you
fly along and looking down from a height of 5000 feet, that tree over
there would look like a tiny household plant.”
Paul said, “Yes, there is something staggering about it, a feeling of
tremendous power when you’re up in the air.” He sat up and yawned.
“However,” he added, “what we have to decide right now is where are we
going to camp?”
Ken spoke up, “Let’s return to where we camped last year; it’s as good
a spot as you can find anywhere on the mountain.”
Bluff agreed, saying, “That s-suits me.”
Wallace suggested, “Why not go somewhere else this year? I know a swell
spot about three miles south east.”
Jack asked, “How about it, Paul, you want to try this new camping site
Wallace suggests?”
Paul nodded. “It’s all right with me,” he said.
The boys resumed their hike. It took them about four hours of steady
walking with a few short rest periods to reach their goal The clearing
was off the beaten track. A hundred feet away was a precipice
overhanging the tops of many trees about a hundred feet below. There
was a stream of fresh, cool water just behind the clearing.
Tired, footsore, ravenously hungry, they immediately set to and
prepared a sumptuous meal of chops and potatoes prepared over an
open fire. Later they pitched their tents and settled themselves
for a week’s stay. That night, at the camp fire, the boys huddled
close around the flaming logs of wood. Jack and Wallace were sitting
together, about a yard or so away from the rest of the group. Jack
asked his companion, “How did you happen to know of this place?”
Wallace hesitated. Finally he said, “Well, there’s a story behind it,
some sort of mystery I never could make head or tail of.”
Jack perked up his ears. “What do you mean?” he inquired in a low tone
of voice. “You never told us anything about it.”
The other boys were singing, and the echoes resounded far out across
the mountain. The two whispered to each other. Wallace answered, “No,
I didn’t, but that’s only because the story doesn’t seem to have any
meaning and I didn’t want the fellows to think I was trying to put over
a tall one on them.”
Jack became interested. Eagerly he asked, “Do you mind telling me the
story?”
Wallace shook his head. “No, I don’t, but I warn you—there’s no sense
to it all.”
“Well, let’s hear it anyhow,” said Jack urging his companion on.
Wallace twisted and turned and finally found a comfortable sitting
position. He began his story by saying, “This camping ground is about
three miles south east of the camping ground we usually go to. If
you were particularly attentive, you would have noticed as we came
here that this place is off the usual course followed by campers,
is a little difficult to find and yet it appears to have been used
frequently.”
Jack nodded, glanced at the fire and his companions, permitted his eyes
to wander about the general extremities of the camp, then turned to his
story teller and said, “Yes, but how did you come upon this camp site?
Tell me that.”
Wallace betrayed a bit of uneasiness. He said, “I’m coming to that.
Last year, camping up there”—he motioned with his hand—“I decided
one morning to take a walk through the woods. There was no path, so
I had to fight my way through bushes, shrubbery and all sorts of
entanglements, until I came to a spot where the bushes were beaten
down, a couple of low branches were broken off—there was every
indication that on that spot a struggle had taken place between two or
more people. I examined the ground very carefully for torn pieces of
clothing and such things, and walking straight ahead I came upon the
stream. Following the stream, I came upon this camp site.”
Jack mumbled, “Hm! Nothing mysterious about that.”
Wallace demanded, “What do you mean?”
Jack answered, “What I mean is, that there is no evidence of any
mystery or anything. The whole thing seems to fall flat.”
“I told you that before,” said Wallace. “But you haven’t heard all of
it. I have told you only the beginning.”
Jack felt foolish for having spoken out of turn instead of listening to
the rest of the story. He squirmed in his seat and said, “I’m terribly
sorry for interrupting. Go on.”
Wallace had by now become enthusiastic and he leaned closer to his
companion. But just then, William called out, “Hey, you two, no
secrets. Come on over and join us.”
A few of the other fellows cried, “Yes, come on, join us!”
“If it’s a story you’re telling him, Wallace, tell it to all of us.”
“Don’t be snobs. Join us.”
Jack waved to them and replied, “He’s telling me a ghost story without
a ghost and no story to it.”
The boys laughed. The two drew closer together and Wallace continued.
“Listen closely,” he said, “can you hear the gurgling sound of the
stream?”
Jack listened closely and to his astonishment he couldn’t hear the
sound of running water. Yet he was sure that the stream was less than
ten feet away from where he sat. He looked in the direction of the
stream but he didn’t see it. He turned quickly to his companion and
whispered, “I don’t see it. Isn’t it supposed to be right there?”
Wallace grinned. “Correct,” he remarked. “But that’s another thing, one
yard away from the stream and you don’t see it any more. Notice how
cleverly, yet how naturally it is hidden.”
Jack nodded and looked around in amazement. He crept up on his knees,
then stood up and still he couldn’t see the stream. He wanted to walk
over there and assure himself that the stream was there but he was
afraid of arousing suspicion. He sat down again and Wallace continued.
“One more link in the chain,” he said. “About half a mile down this
side of the mountain, there is a cave—a natural cave. I came upon it
accidentally.”
“Did you go inside?” queried Jack eagerly.
“I only took a peek inside. Then I heard a noise or at least I thought
I heard a noise and I jumped away, thinking that I would hide behind
some shrubbery or something. But I never saw it again because I
couldn’t find it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. I looked for it, I retraced my steps as carefully as
I knew how, but no cave.”
Both boys remained silent for a while. Jack seemed to be lost in
thought. Finally he asked, “Is that the whole story?”
Wallace nodded. “Yes.”
Jack shook his head. “Doesn’t seem to make sense.”
“That’s what I told you before,” insisted his companion.