"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.