While Alex was having his troubles with the two gangs of outlaws, and
while Jule and Case were asleep in a thicket at the cove, Clay was
pushing his way through a heavy undergrowth in the direction of a
shabby-looking farm house which stood in the center of a weed-grown
tobacco field not far away.
As he approached the uncared for fence which surrounded the field, he
heard horses stamping and champing at their bits in the woods not far
away to his left.
At first he thought seriously of visiting the undergrowth on a tour of
investigation, but finally decided that his actions might be
misconstrued, so he passed on toward the house in the tobacco field.
It seemed to him that half a hundred dogs of all sizes and breeds leaped
out as he advanced through the weeds toward the front door.
He was having his hands full with the dogs, fending them off, when the
door opened and a woman made her appearance on the threshold.
“Down, you ornery purps!” she shouted in a voice that sounded more like
that of a man than that of a woman. “Come right along in, stranger,” she
added. “I reckon they won’t bite you up none.”
Under the protection of the woman’s voice and presence, Clay finally
succeeded in making his way to the house.
“I’m sure ashamed of them ornery purps,” the woman declared, striking at
a large brindle dog with a mop stick. “Somehow I can’t beat no manners
into ’em!”
“They appear to be a fine lot of dogs!” Clay said, resolved to
conciliate the woman if possible. “I’m used to Kentucky dogs, so I was
not at all afraid of them.”
“What mought be your business, stranger?” the woman asked then.
“Well,” Clay answered, “I’m looking for something to eat.”
“Sho’!” answered the woman. “A nice, likely lookin’ lad like you goin’
around hungry! I’d be glad to give you a set-down of flapjacks and
coffee. Come right in.”
“That would help some!” laughed Clay. “But what I want is provisions to
carry away to my chums—eggs, chickens or anything of that sort you may
have to sell.”
“And where mought your chums be?” asked the woman, a little suspiciously
as Clay thought.
“We came down the river in a motor boat,” the boy replied, “and I left
the boys in a cove some distance from here.”
“I wonder, now,” the woman queried, “whether you might have been on the
river last night.”
Clay replied in the affirmative.
“Well,” the woman went on, “I’ve been waiting all morning for news from
the river. My men went out last night at dusk and haven’t returned.”
“There were horsemen along the river last night,” Clay suggested.
“That would be them.”
“And I heard horses champing their bits just as I came up to the fence,”
Clay went on.
“Sho’!” answered the woman. “My men always have fresh hosses near the
house. What did you hear on the river last night?” she added.
“It seemed rather quiet,” Clay replied, “except that a whiskey steamer
got wrecked some distance up.”
“That’s too bad, now!” declared the woman.
“There’s one thing peculiar I noticed about the river last night,” Clay
went on, “and that was something which looked to me like a signal. We
saw three blue lights resting on the surface of the water. Then there
came an explosion and they disappeared.”
The woman almost staggered back in the doorway. Her ruddy face became
slightly pale, and Clay saw that the work-worn hands were trembling.
Clay sprang to a pail of water which stood near, dipped up a liberal
supply in a gourd which hung on a wall, and approached the woman with it
in his hand.
“Sho’, now!” the woman almost gasped, placing her hands at her sides,
“here I be havin’ another spell with my heart. Seems like I was always
havin’ trouble with that pesky organ.”
Clay did not believe the explanation given by the woman for her sudden
fright. He had no doubt that the mention of the mysterious three blue
lights had led to this alleged heart failure.
“I’ll shore be better in a minute,” the woman said, dropping into a
home-made chair which stood just inside the house. “What was it you said
about the three blue lights? I was took sudden just as you began
speaking of them.”
Clay repeated what he had said regarding the mysterious lights, watching
the woman closely every second. She did not again show sign of emotion
of any kind.
“Why,” the woman said directly, “them’s the ghost lights that are often
seen on the Ohio. The steamboat _Mary Ann_ went down with a dancing
party on board ten years ago, and ever since then the lights have been
seen on the river.”
“But the _Mary Ann_ went down just off Wolf Creek,” Clay suggested.
“There is a story,” the woman began in a hushed voice, “that the lights
show every year about the time the boat went down, at the exact place
where she sunk. And then, again,” she continued, “they do say that
wherever a body from the _Mary Ann_ remains unburied at the bottom of
the river the three blue lights show at least once a year.”
“So they really are ghost lights?” asked Clay.
“Why, stranger,” the woman continued, “boats have been pushed directly
into them lights as they floated on the surface of the river, and they
have burned right on after being submerged! Them explosions have been
heard time and time again, and nothing has been found which could have
produced them. We people along the river are mighty skeery of them ghost
lights.”
“I have heard that they bring disaster,” Clay suggested.
“They sure do!” replied the woman. “But come in,” she went on, “here
I’ve been talkin’ like a foolish old gossip, and you standing hungry in
the doorway. Come in and sit down.”
Clay took the proffered chair but he was not thinking of the breakfast
being prepared for him.
He was thinking, instead, of the sudden panic into which the old woman
had fallen at the mention of the three blue lights. He saw now that
there was some significance to the signal.
He came to understand, sitting there watching the still troubled face of
the woman, that the three blue lights indicated some desperate action on
the part of the river people—some desperate action which took the men
away from their homes and left the women anxious and afraid. He saw that
the woman in trying to deceive him by her words was still telling the
story of some terrible situation by her voice and manner. He wondered
but could reach no conclusion.
The boy was supplied with a bountiful breakfast of corn pancakes, fried
eggs and coffee, and then he opened negotiations with his hostess for a
supply of provisions for the _Rambler_. The woman looked distressed and
answered his inquiries with downcast eyes.
“I’m sure sorry,” she said, “but we had a lot of friends here to dinner
yesterday, and they eat about everything in the house. Them eggs you’ve
just et were laid this morning.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Clay replied, “but if you haven’t got provisions, you
can’t sell them. Perhaps I can find a supply at some near-by farm house.
How far is it to the nearest one?”
“It is a long way through the thicket,” the woman answered, “and I
wouldn’t advise no boy like you to be wandering in the woods in this
vicinity right now. It ain’t safe!”
“Why, there ought not to be anything to be afraid of!” Clay suggested.
“You don’t know this region as well as I do, boy!” the woman replied.
“These folks that come up from the river are mighty bad sometimes, and
I’ve known people that didn’t live on the river to do desperate, bad
things occasionally.”
Clay sorely puzzled, looked the woman frankly in the face and asked:
“Do you imagine trouble because the three blue lights showed on the
river last night?”
“Well,” was the reply, “they surly do bring trouble.”
“In what way?” insisted Clay.
“Oh, there’s wrecks, and burnings, and shooting, and all manner of
things going on, somehow, after them three blue lights show.”
“Then perhaps I’d better be getting back to the river!” Clay suggested.
“I wouldn’t leave no boat that was worth ready money long alone along
the Ohio river at this time of year,” the woman answered. “And let me
tell you another thing,” she went on. “If you see three blue lights,
keep away from them! Don’t go near where they are, and get out of the
vicinity of them as fast as you can.”
“We’re not afraid of ghosts!” laughed Clay.
“I can’t say more!” the woman continued. “I don’t know but I’ve said too
much now. I hope you’ll take an old woman’s advice and keep out of
trouble. Where might you boys be from, now?”
“Chicago,” replied Clay.
“Sho’, now!” exclaimed the old woman. “I’ve never seen any one from
Chicago before. “I’ve heard of it often, though. Must be a right pert
place. Some one told me it was almost as big as Paducah.”
“Yes,” Clay replied, “Chicago is some city. Will you accept pay for my
breakfast?” he continued.
“You’re only a boy,” the woman replied, “and so don’t know any better
than to offer a Kintucky woman pay for a feed. But I wouldn’t do that
any more if I were you.”
Thanking the woman from the bottom of his heart for her hospitality and
her kindly advice, the boy started away in the direction of the river.
On his return he took care to pass through that portion of the thicket
where he had heard the horses on his way in. He found three remarkably
fine-looking animals, all saddled and bridled, standing in the thicket.
As he stepped toward one of them, a boy, certainly not more than twelve
years of age, leaped at him.
“What you doing here?” the youth demanded.
“I have just come from the house,” Clay replied. “Your mother gave me a
fine breakfast.”
“Did she, now?” asked the boy suspiciously.
“She certainly did,” answered Clay resolved to continue the conversation
with the lad until he learned something more concerning the three blue
lights. The boy dropped his hostile attitude at once.
“I was going on to other houses in search of provisions,” Clay went on,
“but your mother advised me that it wouldn’t be safe.”
“It shore ain’t safe!” the boy replied.
“She told me,” Clay resumed, “that it was never safe in this section
when three blue lights burned on the river.”
“Did she, now?” asked the boy. “And did you-all see the three blue
lights?”
“Twice,” answered Clay. “Last night and the night before—once opposite
Wolf Creek and once in the lagoon at that odd-shaped island just up the
stream.”
Clay thought that the boy shivered a little in his ragged clothes.
“What is all this about the three blue lights?” he asked in a moment.
The boy shook his head gravely.
“We-uns ain’t allowed to talk about the three blue lights,” he answered.
“You think they are ghost lights, eh?” asked Clay.
“We-uns ain’t allowed to talk about the three blue lights,” repeated the
boy. “We never mention them.”
Seeing that further conversation with the boy was likely to prove
without result, Clay again turned to face in the direction of the river.
“I wish I knew,” he mused, as he pushed his way through tangled thickets
and descended and ascended rocky slopes, “I wish I knew exactly why that
woman came near fainting when I mentioned the three blue lights.
“I have an impression,” he went on, “that there’s some feud coming to
life. In the first place, I don’t believe the story told at the stranded
coal barges last night.
“Those men never sought the river with the intentions of destroying that
steamer. They wouldn’t have brought their horses along if that had been
their object.
“The horses, of course, might have been used in the way of
transportation to the river, but, at the same time, men out on such a
mission would not care to be seen riding so openly through the country.”
It is needless to say that the boy did not believe one word of the story
told him by the woman who had given him his breakfast. He was too
hard-headed to believe in ghosts or supernatural demonstrations of any
sort.
He knew however, that there must be some reason for the display of the
lights, and knew that no little ingenuity had been shown in the placing
and extinguishing of them. So studying over the problem, the boy finally
came to the little cove where he had left Case and Jule.
Captain Joe fawned about him as he advanced, but when he approached the
thicket where the boys had been preparing their rough beds, he saw that
they were not there. He lost no time in making a close examination of
the ground, both at the landing and at the entrance to the thicket.
What he saw set his heart to bounding excitedly: At both points there
many indications of a desperate struggle.
Had he known the plight in which Alex found himself at that moment, Clay
would have been doubly alarmed.