DISMAL MOUNTAIN
"Well, Ned, I guess that's about all!"
"Unless you want to put in another piece of bacon," was Ned Newton's
rejoinder to his chum's implied question.
The two were sitting in the House on Wheels, about a week after the
sensational race with the freight train. In the intervening time much
work had been done on the new invention. The motor was thoroughly
gone over, tuned up, and minor adjustments made. The furnishing of
the interior of the House was completed, from kitchen articles to bed
linen, and the vehicle was now equipped for a long or short journey, as
the owner desired. Ned's particular province was the pantry, and he had
furnished it, as Tom said, "with enough grub to last a month."
Following another and more severe tryout of the machine after the
freight train race, Tom had suggested to his chum that they go on a
week's crosscountry tour to further test the House on Wheels under
varying conditions.
"Have you any particular object in view?" asked Ned.
"Well, I thought maybe I'd surprise Mary," was the answer.
"Surprise her?" questioned Ned. "What do you mean?"
"We could call on the Winthrops where she is staying."
"Good idea. But where is it?"
"Just outside Chesterport."
"Chesterport!" exclaimed Ned, with every indication of excitement. "You
mean Chesterport in this state?"
"Sure. Why not? What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing. Only--Well, say, what are you going to do after you surprise
Mary in Chesterport?"
"After that we can keep on touring, if you like. We can go as far
beyond Chesterport as you like."
"We won't have to go far," murmured Ned, and there was a strange look
in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me before that Mary had gone to
Chesterport?"
"I didn't attach any importance to it, for one thing," answered Tom.
"And, for all I know, I may have mentioned it to you a dozen times."
"No you didn't, or I'd have remembered it."
"What did you mean by saying we won't have to go far beyond
Chesterport?" asked Tom. "What's there of such importance?"
"It's queer you never heard of it," murmured Ned, looking over some
papers he hastily took from his pocket.
"For the love of Pete! Heard of what?" cried Tom, a bit exasperated by
his chum's curious manner.
"Dismal Mountain! The peak of mystery!" exclaimed Ned. "If you haven't
made any other plans after you pay Mary a visit, what's the matter with
keeping on to Dismal Mountain?"
"Nothing the matter, as far as I can see," admitted Tom. "But it is
the first time I've ever heard of the beast and I'd like a little
information. Why is the mountain dismal and what's the mystery about
it?"
"It's dismal because of the mystery," was the reply. "And as for what
that is, smarter lads than you have asked the question and haven't been
answered."
"Oh, cut it out! Be yourself!" advised Tom, with a laugh. "Get down to
brass tacks and let's have a little first hand information."
"That I can't give you, much as I'd like to," said Ned, with a serious
air, not at all in keeping with Tom's bantering words. "All I know
about Dismal Mountain is what I've heard or read, but that's plenty.
I've made a few notes here, and----"
"I should say you had!" exclaimed Tom, looking at the documents his
chum pulled from his pocket. "Looks like an election ballot."
"Well, they're mostly clippings from papers," went on Ned; "though I
have made some notes myself of what folks have told me. Look here!
Those are some newspaper clippings."
He spread a sheaf of them out on the table in the living room of the
House on Wheels where this talk was taking place. The House was in the
garage, but was all ready to run out at a moment's notice.
Tom saw that the clippings bore various heads, such as: "Dismal
Mountain Smokes Again," "Dismal Mountain Claims Another Victim," and
this appeared to be an account of a man who had disappeared somewhere
in the fastness of the forest around the place.
"You don't need to read them all," advised Ned. "I can shorten it by
summarizing it for you. Dismal Mountain is some distance south of
Chesterport--just how far I don't know. It's in a lonely section of the
country, away from any town or city, though there are people living
not far from the foot of the mountain.
"Some of these folks say the mountain is haunted. Others hold that it
is the resort of present-day moonshiners and bootleggers. I think that
comes as near the mark as any. Another version is that the strange
sights and sounds that are seen and heard are made by the moonshiners
or bootleggers to scare would-be investigators away."
"I can well believe that," murmured Tom. "What else?"
"Well, there's another theory that a squad of bandits or road agents
make the glens of Dismal Mountain their hiding places," went on
Ned. "They lie in wait there and hold up trucks carrying big loads
of valuable merchandise, such as bales of silk. There may also be
hijackers on the mountain--men who make a practice of raiding the
trucks sent out by bootleggers. Of course the latter being engaged in
breaking the law themselves, can't call on the law to protect them. So
the hijackers have it easy."
"Sounds like a right bad sort of a place," commented Tom.
"It's fully as bad as it sounds," declared Ned. "Not long ago, as you
can see by this clipping, there was a train hold-up not far from Dismal
Mountain. Some of the bandits are believed to have fled to that place
and may still be in hiding."
"This is getting worse and more interesting!" exclaimed Tom Swift. "I
only hope you aren't stringing me," he added, with a sharp look at his
chum.
"Indeed I'm not kidding you!" expostulated Ned. "You can read it there
for yourself. Of course I don't guarantee the truth of any of this, but
if I'm fooled, so are the papers."
"It looks authentic," admitted Tom, when he had glanced through several
clippings. "At least there have been a number of crimes committed in
the vicinity of this Dismal Mountain, and it may hold the criminals."
"That's what I think," said Ned. "And when I heard just now for the
first time that you are going to Chesterport, which is the nearest town
of any size to the mountain, I thought it would be a good chance to
visit the mysterious place."
"You're right!" exclaimed Tom. "I'm glad you mentioned this. I wouldn't
have missed it for the world. It's queer I never heard about the
mountain of mystery before, and yet it isn't a hundred miles away."
"It is only recently that all these stories became public," stated Ned.
"Besides, you were so busy working on your talking pictures and since
then on this House on Wheels that I don't blame you for not having
heard of this Dismal Mountain."
"It's going to be just the thing!" cried Tom, his face lighting with
pleasure. "With Mary away, I needed something to stimulate me and keep
me from going stale. This will do the trick! Let's see if we can't run
down this mystery!"
"I'm with you!" echoed Ned.
He was putting away his clippings and other information and Tom was
going to ask about the roads to Dismal Mountain and the possibility of
taking the House on Wheels when they heard a noise at the outer door of
the garage where the new machine stood. Then the handle was cautiously
tried.
"Look!" whispered Ned, touching Tom on the arm and pointing to the
latch that was slowly being raised.