relieved laughter.
“A sheet attached to a bush!” added Miss Ward. “Let’s find out about
this.”
She held the light while Judy removed the sheet from the foliage. To
prevent it from blowing away, two ends had been tied to the branches
with cord.
“This ‘ghost’ was put here purposely!” Judy declared. “By whom, I
wonder?”
“Any marking on the linen?”
Judy inspected the sheet under the light. “Here are some initials
stamped on the edge!” she exclaimed. “‘P.C.C.’”
“Pine Cone Camp!”
“Well, if that isn’t a good joke on us!” Judy laughed. “The girls at
camp decided to produce that ghost we were telling them about! Beverly
and Betty may have pulled this one!”
“They were in camp all afternoon, Judy.”
“That’s true. Maybe some of the Lone Tree Scouts did it then! One of
their girls has been asking a lot of questions about Calico Cottage.”
“I don’t mind a bit of good fun,” Miss Ward said, folding the sheet.
“On the other hand, I’m not in favor of making too much of this ghost
talk. I think I’ll discuss the matter with Miss Lubell tomorrow.”
“I hope whoever played the trick won’t get into trouble. I’m sure it
was all in good fun.”
“Oh, no one will receive a reprimand,” Miss Ward promised. “I’ll find
out which girls had camp leave this afternoon. If it develops that any
of them played the trick, I’ll ask them not to repeat it, that’s all.”
When the two returned to the cottage with the bed sheet, Virginia,
Ardeth and Kathleen anxiously met them at the door.
“Here’s your ghost!” Judy laughed, tossing the camp linen into
Kathleen’s arms. “Look at the initials!”
“So that’s why those Lone Tree Scouts were giggling and carrying
on this afternoon!” Kathleen exclaimed after she had examined the
markings. “Several of them asked for camp leave too!”
“Then my idea about that probably was right,” Miss Ward said.
Greatly relieved that the ghost scare had no serious aspects, the
Scouts discussed the prank for a few minutes, and then went to bed. It
was a long while, however, before the house finally settled down.
Judy fell quickly asleep. How long she slumbered she had no way of
knowing. But suddenly, she found herself wide awake.
Miss Ward, she noted, was sleeping soundly beside her.
Wondering what had disturbed her, Judy sat up. Moonlight streamed into
the bedroom. She judged that it could not be later than midnight or
possibly one o’clock.
The telephone was ringing.
“So that’s what awakened me!” Judy thought, leaping out of bed. “Wonder
who can be calling at this time of night?”
The phone call, she thought, might be from Pine Cone Camp. Something
might have happened to Betty or Beverly. Or possibly it was a message
from Aunt Mattie.
In her haste to reach the telephone before it stopped ringing, Judy
bumped against a chair. Nursing a bruised knee, she hobbled on.
As she took down the receiver to say “hello,” a gruff voice came over
the line.
“Time you answered! Is Joe there?”
“Joe?” faltered Judy. “Joe who?”
Only silence gave reply. Then the wire went completely dead. The
speaker at the other end of the line had hung up.
_Chapter 10_
A MIDNIGHT DISTURBANCE
As Judy hung up the telephone receiver, the light suddenly was
switched on behind her. Startled, she whirled around with a smothered
exclamation of alarm.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you, Judy.” It was Kathleen who stood in the
doorway, a corduroy robe flung over her shoulders. “I heard someone
moving around, and thought I’d check, that’s all. Is anything wrong?”
“The phone was ringing. I--I don’t know what to make of it.”
“Who was it that called, Judy?”
“That’s the point. I don’t know. Someone asked for Joe.”
“Joe? Joe who?”
“That’s exactly what I asked, Kathleen. The only Joe I know is that
dreadful Joe Pompilli.”
“Someone must have called the wrong number.”
“I guess so,” Judy admitted doubtfully. “It gave me an ugly start
though. What time is it?”
“A little past midnight,” Kathleen said, looking at her wristwatch.
“What a night! All we need to make it complete is a little flute music!”
The switching on of a light had disturbed the others in the cottage.
Miss Ward came in from the bedroom and then Virginia and Ardeth, the
latter groggy with sleep.
“What now?” she mumbled. “Another ghost?”
Judy explained about the telephone.
“Those Lone Tree Scouts!” Virginia exclaimed indignantly. “They’re
playing another joke on us! Trying to pretend that Joe Pompilli is
calling!”
“It wasn’t anyone from Pine Cone Camp,” Judy said, her face serious.
“Whoever called was a man.”
“It must have been someone who dialed a wrong number,” Kathleen
insisted. “I’m in favor of forgetting the whole business, and going to
bed. If we don’t get some sleep we’ll all be wrecks tomorrow.”
“That’s sound advice,” approved Miss Ward. “To bed everyone!”
All the girls were up at seven o’clock the next morning, feeling little
the worse for the excitement of the night. While the Scouts were
washing the breakfast dishes, the telephone rang again.
“You get it, Judy,” Virginia directed with a giggle. “It’s probably
from Joe.”
“From Aunt Mattie more than likely,” Judy replied, moving hastily to
the telephone.
The message was from Miss Lubell at Pine Cone Camp. She asked Judy
to tell Miss Ward that the station wagon driver had been delayed that
morning and could not call for the girls until ten thirty.
“This means we’ll have considerable free time on our hands,” Judy
remarked as she relayed the information to the others.
“Let’s explore the river area, and maybe around the cave,” proposed
Ardeth. “I want to find an insect or an animal we can enter in the
nature treasure chest.”
“We’ll all go,” Miss Ward decided.
The work already had been finished. Locking the cottage, the five
struck off down the private road. After it dead-ended, they went on
across the silvery-gray rocks and through a stretch of sand to the
river.
Beyond the ribbon of blue water, the mountains rose in jagged green
peaks. A ranger station was visible on one of the high slopes, set in a
cleared area among the trees.
A half-rotted dock extended for some distance out into the stream. The
girls noticed an elderly man in blue overalls tying up his rowboat
after a fishing expedition.
“Good morning,” Judy said pleasantly as the girls wandered over. “How’s
the fishing?”
Straightening up, the old man shoved a soiled white cap at a rakish
angle over his shaggy white hair.
“Mornin’ to you,” he greeted the girls jovially. “The
fishin’? Nary a bite! Blast my timbers, it’s a waste of a man’s time to
blister his skin out in the sun on this old river. I’m slingin’ my hook
for today.”
Moving stiffly, the elderly man began to unload his fishing equipment
from the boat. Judy and Kathleen reached down to help him.
“Right handy mates ye be,” he remarked, well pleased by their
attention. “Don’t recollect seein’ you gals hereabouts before.
Tourists?”
“We’re Girl Scouts,” Judy explained. “We’re staying at Pine Cone Camp.
Because of a mix-up there over reservations, some of us have been
sleeping at Calico Cottage.”
“Calico Cottage? Well, bash my binnacles!”
“It’s a lovely cottage,” Ardeth contributed. “The only trouble is, it
seems to have a ghost.”
“A musical ghost who plays a flute at night,” added Virginia.
“You don’t say! A ghost!” The old man gave a throaty chuckle and then
laughed so hard that his sizeable stomach rolled up and down under the
overalls. “I’ll be a son of a sea cook! That’s a good joke on Krumm!”
“It’s not so much fun for us though,” Judy declared earnestly. “We’re
turning the cottage over to my aunt this afternoon. She’s inclined to
be nervous. We’d hoped to clear up the mystery before she arrived, but
that seems out of the question now.”
“Don’t waste any time worrying about that ghost,” the old man advised.
“A bunch o’ Girl Scouts ought to be smart enough to get to wind’ard of
any flute-playin’ spook.”
“It would seem that way,” agreed Judy. “So far, though, we’ve had no
luck. By the way, you’re not Captain Hager by any chance?”
“That’s my name, but not by chance! Captain Humphrey Hager, formerly
master of the good ship _Elaine_. I’ve been in dry dock going on ten
years now.”
“We’re glad to meet you,” Judy declared cordially. She introduced Miss
Ward and the girls, and then added: “Bart Ranieau told us that you once
owned Calico Cottage--or rather, the old homestead that stood on the
same foundation.”
“That’s right,” Old Captain Hager agreed, his leathery face wrinkling
into a scowl. “I found myself in low water, financially speaking. That
blasted, penny-squeezin’ Krumm kept pestering me, until finally I sold
him the place.”
“Tell us, Captain Hager,” urged Kathleen, “did the house have a ghost
when you lived there?”
A knowing smile overspread the old man’s face. “Well, yes, and no,” he
said. “I advised Krumm to put in a new foundation, but he let me know
he would do it his own way. So now he has a ghost! Ha!”
“Does the old foundation have anything to do with the ghost?” Virginia
asked, looking puzzled.
Old Captain Hager acted as if he had not heard the question. He fussed
with the painter of the rowboat for a moment, and then remarked offhand:
“So you gals have met Bart Ranieau? Now there’s a fine lad, smart as a
whip and with the courage of a young lion. He told you about Hager’s
Hole?”
“Calico Cave?” inquired Judy.
“Hager’s Hole,” the old man repeated. “I don’t take stock of that new
fancy name Krumm tacked on. Bart told you about his father losing his
life in the cave?”
“Why no!” exclaimed Judy.
“He did say something about an explorer trying to find the cave’s exit,
and never being heard of again,” Virginia added.
“That was Bart’s father,” the Captain informed her. “His son’s a chip
off the old block. Lots of sand in the craw! Bart’s trying to work his
way through college by peddlin’ milk. Aye, he’s an up and comer!”
“How did Bart’s father lose his life?” Miss Ward inquired.
The old captain’s gaze swept the river and lifted to fasten
thoughtfully upon the dark entranceway of Calico Cave.
“No one knows,” he replied. “Not for sure. Folks say though, that it
was the siphon that did for him.”
“What’s a siphon?” demanded Kathleen.
“Hager’s Hole has an underground river,” he related. “Where it empties
no one knows. Deep in the cave is a grotto, so beautiful it will blast
your eyes! The underground stream must have hollowed it out ages ago,
then bored its way on through the rock.
“By wading waist-deep and finally neck-deep in water one can follow
the river for awhile. Then the ceiling dips until water and roof meet.
That’s your siphon.”
“A stretch of water between the rocks, with no roof space above?” Judy
questioned.
“Aye.”
“Bart’s father tried to go through the siphon?” Miss Ward inquired
soberly.
“He knew he was risking his life, but spelunkers don’t have good sense
when it comes to explorin’ caves. Bart’s father was obsessed with the
idea he had to find the exit to Hager’s Hole. He gambled his life,
figuring he could dive through the siphon and find an air space beyond.”
“No one ever learned for certain what became of Mr. Ranieau?” The
question was asked by Judy who sat cross-legged on the dock, listening
intently to every word of the story.
“His clothes were found in the grotto, tied in a neat bundle. That’s
all that ever was known. A watch was kept at the siphon for days, but
there never was a sound or a signal of any kind. That was a long while
ago, and now Bart’s sailin’ the same course as his dad, hauntin’ that
cave, and dreamin’ about it at night. I’m right worried about the lad.”
“You’re afraid he’ll meet with mishap in the cave?” questioned Miss
Ward.
“Bart knows his way in that cavern like it was his own ship,” the old
captain replied. “What worries me, Ma’am, is that he’s obsessed with
finding out what became of his father. He keeps talking about the
siphon, speculatin’ on whether a strong swimmer couldn’t get through.
One of these days he may be rash enough to try it.”
“Calico Cave--Hager’s Hole, I mean,” Kathleen corrected herself, “must
be a fascinating place. You’ve been in the cave many times I suppose?”
“Aye, in my younger day, I went there right often.”
“Then you must have seen the White Witch!” cried Judy, her brown eyes
dancing.
“Aye,” Captain Hager agreed reminiscently. “Aye.” He became absorbed in
deep thought.
Judy broke into his meditation to ask how long it would take to reach
the formation after one left the cave entrance.
“Ten minutes,” the captain estimated. “It’s easy walkin’. But don’t you
gals try it by yourself. If you’re aimin’ to go into that cave, you
need a guide.”
“We do, indeed!” cried Judy. She sprang to her feet, seizing the
captain’s hand so unexpectedly that he nearly dropped his pipe. “Oh,
Captain Hager, will you take us? Please, will you guide us to the White
Witch?”
_Chapter 11_
SPELL OF THE CAVE
Captain Hager’s remarks about the cave had stirred the imagination
of the Scouts, and even Miss Ward thought it would be interesting to
explore the cavern for a short distance.
“Would it be safe, do you think?” she asked, as Captain Hager seemed to
be giving Judy’s request sober consideration.
“It’s safe enough, Ma’am,” he assured her. “The only danger lies in
going too far without a guide.”
“No rock falls?”
“Never heard of one in all the years I’ve lived hereabouts.”
“Then do take us, Captain Hager!” Judy urged again, prancing excitedly
about the dock. “We haven’t much time, because the camp station wagon
is to come for us at ten thirty. Please, could we start right now?”
“Dash it, I was calculatin’ on anchorin’ for a comfortable snooze,” the
captain complained good-naturedly. “But if them’s my sailing orders,
we’ll cast off for the cave!”
The old man told the Scouts and their leader to meet him at the
entranceway of Hager’s Hole. He promised to join them there as soon as
he had gone to his nearby river shack to leave his fishing equipment
and pick up a few items he would want for the trip.
Taking leave of the old man, the girls swiftly climbed the slope to the
cave. Captain Hager did not keep them waiting long.
Within fifteen minutes, they glimpsed his bent figure coming along the
path. He had changed his shoes, put on a blue jacket, and carried a
lantern.
Before leading the way into the cave, Captain Hager told the group
something of its history. The cavern, he related, was known to have
been in existence in early Indian days--the exact date of its origin
never would be established.
“Now there are all types of caves,” he went on, warming to his subject.
“Tunnel caves, river system caves, fissure caves--no two ever are the
same, and that’s what makes ’em so interesting to explorers. This one
starts with a sort of sinkhole entrance. It narrows down for a distance
and then opens up into a chamber where you’ll see the White Witch.
That’s as far as most folks ever go.”
“It won’t take us too long to see the formation?” Miss Ward asked,
looking anxiously at her wrist watch. “We haven’t much time.”
“Ten minutes, ma’am, to walk to the chamber. The climb back will take
longer. I’m not as spry as I was in the old days.”
“We can spare an hour,” Miss Ward decided.
Captain Hager instructed the girls to follow him, single-file. Miss
Ward brought up the rear of the procession to make certain that none of
her charges wandered out of line.
Cautiously, and with awe, the Scouts moved into the entrance chamber
of the cave. A considerable current of air moved in the cavern, nearly
lifting Kathleen’s beret from her head.
The room in which the girls found themselves, though dark, was
neither damp nor musty. By the light of Captain Hager’s lantern, they
distinguished smoke-blackened limestone walls, and on the floor were
the dead ashes of a small fire.
“Someone has been in here lately,” the guide remarked. “Not Bart,
because he wouldn’t bother with a fire. He does most of his exploring
in a bathing suit.”
“A bathing suit!” gasped Miss Ward, truly astonished. “I should think
he’d freeze to death.”
“Not that lad,” chuckled the captain. He had rested his lantern for a
moment on a rocky ledge. “The temperature of this cave is the same,
summer or winter. Bart wears a bathing suit because he can crawl
through narrow places better than if he had on bulky clothes. And when
he gets wet, he says he stays warmer and dries out faster.”
“Dear me, there’s more to this exploration of caves than I realized,”
commented Miss Ward. “We’ll not get wet, I trust?”
“No, Ma’am,” the captain promised. “There’s no water down to the level
where we’re going. Keep your eyes out for bats though--not that the
little creatures will harm you.”
“Bats!” Virginia squealed. “Horrors!”
“They won’t hurt you,” the captain repeated. “Not even if you touch
’em with your hand. Sometimes they’re packed in on the walls as tight
as a swarm o’ bees. Then if they’re disturbed, the whole mass may take
flight. Bats are strange creatures.”
“Ardeth should be assigned to capture one for the camp treasure chest!”
Judy chuckled.
“We’ll go below, now,” the captain announced. “Follow me closely, and
don’t do too much talkin’. Sound echoes in a cave and is magnified.
Full steam ahead!”
Step by step, the Scouts descended the narrow passageway. The slope
was an easy one, but it seemed endless. Unable to judge distance
underground, the girls imagined they had gone a long ways when finally
the captain brought up in a gallery approximately sixteen feet wide.
Walls of the room were covered with limestone ridges and there were a
few interesting stalagmites and stalactites. Captain Hager struck one
of the latter with his stout walking stick, and it gave forth a musical
ring.
Waiting until the entire party had clustered about, he slowly moved
his lantern so that it threw a circular, shadowy light on a dark
portion of the gallery.
The girls sucked in their breath, uttering exclamations of surprise and
awe.
There before them, was the cave witch!
Tall and skinny, she appeared to lean on a long, white staff. The
ice-like figure, the girls knew, had been formed by stalagmites and
stalactites which over the years had grown together in weird formation.
For a long while they stood silent, held by the ghostly spell of the
old witch. In the dead stillness, they could hear the rush of the
mysterious hidden river far below them. A cold gust of air blew across
the gallery, causing the Scouts to pull their jackets more closely
about them.
“How real that old witch looks!” Judy whispered, finally breaking the
silence. “No wonder folks make up tales about this cave.”
Keeping his voice low to prevent echo, Captain Hager explained that the
dripstone formations were called stalactites when they hung from the
limestone ceiling and stalagmites if they rose from the cave floor.
“Each icicle-like formation, if broken, shows growth rings not unlike
those of a tree,” he related. Some, he told the Scouts, grew very
rapidly, while others were years in the making.
“Usually each stalactite has a small hole in the center through which
the water flows to drip off the end,” he went on. “When the drip-off
strikes the floor, it sometimes builds up a stalagmite as you see them
here. When the two unite, you may get any variety of weird shapes.”
“Oh, dear,” protested Kathleen, “you’re taking all the magic away from
the White Witch, Captain Hager! I prefer to imagine that she is pure
white stone.”
Virginia inquired if there were other interesting formations deeper
down in the cave?
“Aye, in the gallery below, there’s one Bart calls the Grand Ballroom.
Farther on, there’s a Frozen Waterfall, or flowstone, as it’s called.
You can see needles and toadstools and totem poles.”
“Oh, Captain Hager, take us on!” pleaded Ardeth. “Only as far as the
Ballroom. This cave is so fascinating.”
Before the captain could answer, Miss Ward interposed firmly: “No,
girls. Perhaps some other day, if we have a guide, we can return.”
“The camp station wagon will be at Calico Cottage before we are, if we
don’t hurry,” declared Kathleen. “This is such a wonderful grotto, I
hate to leave, but we must.”
Regretfully, the others agreed that further exploration of the cave
must be postponed. Leading the way with the lantern, Captain Hager
began the steep climb. He moved slowly and in the narrow passageway,
his heavy breathing was so loud that those behind him could hear it
plainly.
“I’m not as spry as I was ten years ago,” the old man confessed when
the party presently reached the cave exit. “Going down is easy enough,
but when I throw ’er in reverse, my ticker starts to pound.”
“We shouldn’t have pressed you into taking us to see the old witch,”
Judy apologized.
“I was glad to do it,” the captain insisted. “Anyway, I’m not ready yet
to let old age get to the windward of me! No, sir!”
The Scouts thanked their guide for taking them on the expedition.
Saying goodbye, they hastened along the rocky path to the private road,
thence to Calico Cottage. To their relief, the camp station wagon had
not yet arrived.
“What a wonderful morning!” Kathleen declared, sitting down on the
porch steps to think over the exciting things she had seen inside the
cave. “I wish all the girls at Pine Cone Camp could see the White
Witch!”
“Perhaps it can be arranged,” Miss Ward remarked. “I’ll talk to
Miss Lubell about it and see what she thinks. Caves certainly are
educational.”
“Captain Hager knows a lot about them too,” contributed Judy. “He told
us a great deal, but I have a hunch there’s more he left unsaid.”
“About the White Witch?” inquired Virginia.
“The White Witch and maybe some other things,” she hinted. “Both
Captain Hager and Bart seem to dislike Mr. Krumm. If it weren’t for
that personal feeling, I suspect they might tell us more about the
ghost of Calico Cottage.”
_Chapter 12_
THE PRIVATE ROAD
After lunch at Pine Cone Camp, the Scouts busied themselves washing
their clothes and cleaning the Beaver Patrol tent. Miss Lubell sent
word by one of the counselors that other quarters would be available
for the girls by nightfall.
“I guess we’ll have no excuse for staying at Calico Cottage tonight,”
Judy said regretfully. “You know, that boy with the flute intrigues me!”
“Everyone in camp has heard about him,” added Ardeth as she hung a
blouse on the line to dry. “We’re being teased no end. If we don’t
solve the mystery before we leave here, we’ll never hear the last of
it.”
Miss Ward had overheard the conversation, and interposed a word. “It
might be well for a couple of Scouts to stay with Judy’s aunt tonight,”
she proposed. “I’m satisfied that the cottage is safe, but strange
sounds at night can be most disturbing to a nervous person alone.”
“I’ll stay with Aunt Mattie, if I may,” Judy promptly volunteered.
“I’d like to myself,” added Ardeth. “While I’m there, I want to visit
the cave again. If I could get one of those bats we heard about, we’d
have a fine entry for the nature treasure chest.”
“The cave is out-of-bounds without a guide,” Miss Ward returned. “I
talked to Miss Lubell about it. She thinks we may be able to arrange
a tour for the entire camp later this week. The problem is to find a
suitable guide. It seems that with the exception of Bart and Captain
Hager, few persons go near the place.”
“Someone has been in there lately,” Judy said, reminding the teacher of
the dead camp fire ashes they had seen at the cave entrance.
Shortly before two o’clock, the station wagon took Miss Ward, Judy and
Ardeth to the village depot. A smoky haze hung over the mountainside,
and the girls were somewhat disturbed to learn that a small forest fire
had broken out across the river on Brady’s Ridge.
Enroute to the station they met a forest service truck and passed a
ranger with a portable radio on his shoulder.
The driver of the station wagon pulled up, to ask the forest service
man if the situation was considered at all serious.
“Everything’s under control,” the ranger assured him. “It’s a small
brush fire. We’re keeping a close watch of the entire area though.”
“How did the fire start?” inquired Miss Ward.
The ranger shrugged. “Perhaps from a carelessly dropped cigarette.
Or a motorist may have tossed a match out of a car window. The fire
apparently started close to the road. You folks will be all right, if
you don’t try to cross the river. Keep on this side.”
The haze of smoke hung low as the station wagon parked near the depot.
Judy sniffed the fumes and coughed.