A BUMP ON THE HEAD.
Suddenly Helen Nash’s memory served her so well that she regained
control of her wits with a shock. Here is what she remembered:
“I don’t want them to scare you with a ghost”—these words uttered by
little Glen just before his warning speech was interrupted by the
appearance of Addie Graham at the girls’ camp.
That recollection was enough for Helen. There was nothing tenuous,
elusively subtle, or impenetrably mysterious any longer about the
ghostly apparition. Little Glen had something very clear and definite in
his mind when he made that remark.
Her muscles having relaxed from their rigid strain of superstitious
suspense, Helen reached for the “ammunition sling” that she had placed
beside her and drew therefrom one of the catapults they had made in the
afternoon, also a pebble about the size of a marble, and fitted the
latter in the pocket of the weapon. Then she drew back the pocket and
the pebble, stretching the rubber bands as far as she could extend them,
and took careful aim.
Helen had practiced with this weapon a good deal in the last two or
three hours and acquired considerable proficiency for so short a period
of experience. Moreover, she was skilled in amateur archery and could
pull a bow with a strong right arm. This experience, together with a
general systematic athletic training at school, rendered her
particularly well adapted for her present undertaking.
The other girls, under the spell of awe-fascination which had seized and
held Helen before it was broken by a sudden jog of her memory, knew
nothing of what was going on in their midst until they heard the snap of
the rubber bands. And doubtless it would have taken them considerable
time to fathom it had the pebble-shooter’s aim not proved to be
remarkably good. It struck the “ghost” on the head.
Of course even Helen could not follow the pebble through the air with
her eyes, nor could she see where it struck, but other unmistakable
evidence informed her as to the trueness of her aim and the effect of
the blow. A sharp thud informed her that she had hit something of
substantial resistance, and the next bit of evidence broke the spell for
the other girls with a realization of what had taken place.
The “ghost” wavered and seemed about to topple over, at the same time
emitting a groan of pain which proved him to be thoroughly human. Helen
was frightened, but there was a new kind of awe in this fright. All
suggestion of superstition had left her and in its place was the dread
that she might have killed a man.
The latter dread, however, was soon dispelled. The “ghost” did not fall.
He staggered, it is true—evidently the pain of the blow had stunned him
considerably; but he managed to put speed into his pace, although the
evidence of his suffering was even greater after he began to run. In a
minute he disappeared in the darkness of the timber.
“My! that was a good shot, Helen,” Ethel Zimmerman exclaimed. “And he
will surely wear some lump on his head for some time to come.”
“I was afraid I pulled too hard,” Helen replied with a sigh of relief;
“and, believe me, I’d rather be scared by a ghost several times over
than with the prospect of having a murder record.”
“Who is he?—have you any idea?” Violet asked.
“Can’t you guess?” Helen answered. “Isn’t he someone connected with the
Graham family?”
“What was he trying to do—scare us?” Julietta inquired, addressing the
question as much to herself as to anybody else.
“I should imagine something of the kind, although he may be the crazy
man the Graham girls spoke about,” said Helen.
“I don’t believe there is any such person,” Miss Ladd volunteered at
this point.
“Then why did they suggest such an idea?” Violet questioned.
“I don’t know, unless it was to frighten us,” the Guardian replied.
“Frighten us away from here,” Harriet supplemented.
“Exactly,” said Helen. “That’s my theory of the affair. Don’t you
remember what Glen Irving said just before Addie Graham put in her
appearance and cut short our interview with the boy?”
“He said something about ghosts,” Harriet recalled.
“Not about ghosts, but _a_ ghost,” Helen corrected. “It made quite an
impression on me. Didn’t any of you wonder what he meant?”
“I did,” announced Violet; “and I remember exactly what he said. It was
this: ‘I don’t want them to scare you with a ghost.’”
“Those were the very words,” Helen declared. “Now do you get the
connection between that remark and what just took place? Glen had heard
them talking over their plans. Isn’t it all very clear?”
“At least it is very interesting,” commented Miss Ladd.
“Since you have got so near a solution of this affair, perhaps you’ll go
a step farther and tell your interested audience who that ghost was,”
Ruth Hazelton suggested.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t be so rash as that,” Helen responded; “but if I were
going to write to Mrs. Hutchins tonight, I would suggest to her that, if
Mr. Pierce Langford should return to Fairberry in the next week or two,
she might have somebody examine his head for a bump.”
“A phrenological bump?” inquired Harriet, the “walking dictionary.”
There was a general laugh.
“Not a phrenological bump,” Helen answered.
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