for the Scouts to remain each night at Calico Cottage. Although the
mysterious flute sounds had not been explained, and might never be, she
and Ardeth had convinced themselves that no danger lurked in the cellar.
As for Bart’s warning not to go near the cave without a male escort,
Judy decided that to pass on the admonition to her aunt, might only
cause uneasiness.
“Aunt Mattie never will set foot inside that cave,” she reflected. “So
why worry her needlessly? She’ll probably never see those truck lights
again.”
At Pine Cone Camp a few minutes later, Judy and Ardeth created a
sensation by producing their captive bat. The other Scouts generously
credited the Beaver Patrol girls with having the very best treasure
chest entry. Everyone was satisfied when Miss Lubell announced that
they had won the competition.
“We certainly got in just under the wire,” Ardeth chuckled, when
informed that her bat had taken first honors. “Now I’ll let him fly
away, and hope he returns to Calico Cave safely.”
Making up for time which of necessity had been spent away from camp,
Judy had a wonderful day with her friends. She swam, went sailboating,
and in the late afternoon helped set the table for the evening meal.
Later that night, all the girls enjoyed a sing-fest and took part in
folk dancing.
“What a grand day!” Judy declared blissfully as she sought her tent a
few minutes before the “lights out” signal. “I hope Aunt Mattie doesn’t
run into trouble. I feel guilty, knowing she’s alone at the cottage.”
She dropped off to sleep quickly, determined to check on affairs at
Calico Cottage the first thing in the morning.
Judy’s intentions were the very best. Nevertheless, she awoke late and
was hard pressed to dress and be on time for breakfast. Thereafter, she
found herself assigned to kitchen detail with Beverly and Kathleen.
The three spent until lunch time peeling apples for pie and washing
vegetables. Even after luncheon, Judy did not get to a telephone, for
the unit leader hurried her off to her tent to prepare for a hike.
In connection with the hike, the Scouts planned to visit one of the
nearby ranger towers. A brisk walk through the forest brought them
presently to a cleared area from which arose a tall, steel framework.
The Scouts climbed the steep stairway to a glassed-in square
observation room. A ranger, who had been poring over a map on a table,
greeted the visitors in a friendly way and invited them to look about.
After answering a number of questions, he showed the girls an automatic
fire-finder, an instrument which permitted an observer to read with
precision both vertical and horizontal angles. By means of the device,
a newly discovered fire could be pinpointed, and rangers immediately
dispatched to the area.
“We have a network of ten observation towers in this particular area,”
he informed the Scouts. “Even so all points cannot be viewed, so we
find it necessary to maintain ground patrols as well.”
“Can one see Pine Cone Camp from here?” Judy inquired.
“No, the camp is one of our blind spots, unfortunately,” the ranger
replied. “Rest assured, it is well protected though. Lowell Diethelm
patrols that area. His Forest Service car is equipped with radio
telephone. If he should observe a fire, he immediately would notify
headquarters. Ground fighters would be dispatched at once.”
“Do you have many fires here during the summer?” Kathleen inquired.
“Until this year, very few. Recently, we’ve had a number of small ones,
mostly along the main highway. A few though, have been of mysterious
origin.”
“Deliberately set?” questioned Judy.
“We’re beginning to wonder,” the ranger answered. “Carelessness, of
course, is the underlying cause of most fires. But incendiarism runs
high too. Now that so many summer campers and tourists are pouring into
the area, we have to be especially watchful.”
Before leaving the observation tower, the Scouts studied the big
topographical map and took turns peering through the binoculars.
“Well, come again girls,” the ranger invited as they prepared to leave.
“Be careful of your fires. And remember, if you do see one, report it
at once. Discovery time counts for a lot.”
Leaving the observation tower, the Scouts hiked on for another mile and
a half. By the time they reached the Fountain Falls trail, everyone was
beginning to feel the first pangs of hunger.
“When do we eat?” Virginia demanded.
“Soon,” promised the unit leader. “I’ll get the fire started while you
girls see the falls. I obtained a permit, so we’re violating no rules
to build our own.”
The girls helped gather wood. Then, while the fire was burning down to
bright cherry coals, those not delegated to watch, climbed a steep path
to Fountain Falls.
A veil-like spray of water fell nearly thirty feet to a rocky shelf
below. Ferns and moss protruded from cracks in the limestone rock.
After admiring the sight for some minutes, the Scouts retraced their
way to help with supper. Already a huge tin can was warming on the
coals, filled with a fragrant chowder mixture of bacon, onions, canned
corn and potatoes.
By the time Judy had toasted bread, the other simple items of the
meal were ready. The crisp mountain air had given everyone enormous
appetites. However, there was sufficient food for everyone.
Once the litter had been cleared away and the last marshmallow toasted,
the unit leader personally supervised putting out the camp fire.
She had the girls smother it with water brought from the nearby creek.
Then to make certain that not a spark remained, she covered the dead
coals with a heavy layer of soil.
“Now it’s time to hike down to Silverton,” she advised the group as she
consulted her watch. “The time has gone very fast.”
The downhill hike was comparatively easy and the group made faster time
than had been expected. As a consequence, they arrived in the village
at twenty minutes to seven.
“We’ll have a short wait until the station wagon comes,” the unit
leader told the girls. “It shouldn’t be long though.”
The group had been instructed to meet their driver at Luke’s Cafe, one
of the few business establishments open after six o’clock.
Accordingly, they went in, taking tables and booths. Some of the girls
ordered ice cream. Judy finished hers quickly, and then left the booth
to pay her bill at the counter.
Two men were seated on stools, drinking coffee and munching hamburger
sandwiches.
Judy cast an indifferent glance in their direction, and than looked
again, more intently. One of the men she had never seen before, but she
was certain she recognized the other.
“That’s Joe Pompilli!” she thought excitedly. “The man who was hurt in
the truck accident! The same hi-jacker that the State Highway Patrol
wants to nail!”
As she considered what she should do, Kathleen sauntered out of another
booth. Judy signaled to her.
Once Kathleen had joined her, she informed her of her suspicion.
Kathleen studied the man that Judy pointed out. “Yes, he’s the one we
helped!” she whispered. “The one who was called Joe!”
“He’s wanted by the Highway Patrol,” Judy replied grimly, her mind
made up. “Kathleen, stay here and keep your eye on those two men. Don’t
let them recognize you, if you can prevent it. I’m going to slip out of
here and telephone!”
_Chapter 15_
JUDY’S MISTAKE
Rushing out of the cafe, Judy scarcely knew which way to go. Across the
street, lights were on at the corner drugstore, so she decided to seek
a telephone there.
As she darted to the opposite curb, she spied one of the forest
rangers, who only that moment had emerged from a barber shop.
Judy had seen the Forest Service man several times since her arrival at
Pine Cone Camp and knew that his name was Lowell Diethelm.
Now, instantly recognizing his face and uniform, a wave of relief swept
over her. He would know how to help her notify the State Highway Patrol
quickly!
“Oh, ranger!” she called, for in the excitement of the moment, his name
temporarily fled from her mind.
“Yes?” The ranger turned to regard Judy with intent curiosity.
“Can you help me make a report to the State Highway Department right
away?”
“Why sure,” the ranger replied. “What’s wrong? An automobile accident?”
Judy jerked her head to indicate the cafe across the street. “Two men
are in there eating lunch,” she explained, trying to hold her voice
steady. “I’m sure one of them is Joe Pompilli!”
“Not the hi-jacker?”
Judy’s head bobbed excitedly. “I know he’s the same one Kathleen and I
helped the other day when a truck went off the road. I want to get word
to the State Highway Department right away.”
“Take it easy,” the ranger advised as Judy turned as if to start off
alone. “You’re mistaken, I think. Joe Pompilli wouldn’t dare to show
himself openly here.”
“It does seem a reckless thing for him to do,” Judy conceded. “But I’m
sure the man is the same one.”
“You must be wrong, but to prove it I’ll go over with you to the cafe,”
Diethelm offered.
Crossing the street, Judy and the ranger peered in through the big
plate glass window. The two truckers still were seated at the lunch
counter.
“Which one do you say is Joe?” the ranger demanded.
“The one with the square jaw, seated next to the wall. I never saw the
other man before.”
Diethelm began to chuckle in a hard sort of manner which grated
unpleasantly on Judy’s ears.
“Why are you laughing?” she asked. “Isn’t that man Joe Pompilli?”
“Not on your life. Both those men are truckers for the Peoria Cartage
Co., and they make this town every few days. It’s lucky you ran into me
before you went blabbering your suspicions to the State Highway patrol.
If you’d accused those two of being hi-jackers, they might not have
liked it.”
“But I can’t understand it, unless I was misinformed by the state
highwaymen,” Judy stammered, completely crushed by the mistake she had
made. “That man certainly was hurt in an accident. He’s wearing a wrist
bandage and there are cuts on his face! The other Scouts and myself
gave him first aid treatment.”
“I don’t know about that,” Ranger Diethelm replied with a shrug. “The
state patrolmen either made a mistake in identifying him, or gave you
the wrong dope.”
“Shouldn’t I call Highway headquarters to make sure?”
“You’ll be making a silly mistake if you do,” warned the ranger. “A
mistake that will make your Scout organization the laughing stock of
the community. Take my word for it, those two men are Jim Brady and
Donald Fine, two highly respected truckers. But go ahead if you want to
make the call.”
Lowell Diethelm’s words, and particularly his air of amusement, robbed
Judy of all desire to risk action which might hold up her organization
to possible ridicule.
She hesitated. The ranger mistook her silence for unwillingness to
follow his suggestion.
“Instead of trying to track down criminals, you Scouts would do better
to look after affairs around your own camp,” he said cuttingly.
“Why, what do you mean?” asked Judy, startled. She had detected a
hostile note in the ranger’s voice.
“You girls should be more careful about starting camp fires.”
“We’re always careful,” Judy insisted indignantly.
“Didn’t you have a fire this afternoon at Fountain Falls?”
“Yes, but we were granted a permit. We took great care with our fire,
dousing the coals with water and covering the dead ashes with dirt as
an added precaution.”
“Well, not thirty minutes ago, our spotter at Tower 32 reported a small
fire close to the Falls. Fortunately, it was put out before it spread.”
“It couldn’t have been our fire, and we shouldn’t be blamed for it,”
Judy said, her eyes flashing.
“Some member of your party may have dropped a lighted match.”
“None of us had any. Only our leader carried matches.”
“Well, I don’t know how the fire started,” the ranger admitted. “Just
be more careful, that’s all. Now about reporting this trucker you think
is Joe Pompilli--”
“I guess I must have made a mistake,” Judy mumbled. “Sorry to have
bothered you.”
“No trouble at all,” Diethelm replied, as he smiled as if suddenly
relieved. “We rangers always try to be of service. Watch those fires
now!”
Tipping his broad-brimmed hat, he sauntered on down the darkening
street.
With mingled feelings, Judy was watching the retreating figure.
Humiliated that she had made a mistake in identifying Joe Pompilli, she
nevertheless was annoyed at the ranger for trying to accuse the Scouts
in connection with a newly discovered fire.
“I think he dragged that in just to bother me,” she thought
resentfully. “But why should he take such an attitude?”
As Judy stood by the cafe window, wondering what to do, Kathleen
signaled to her from the inside. Her friend’s meaning was not
immediately clear. Then she comprehended that the two truckers were
paying their bill, preparatory to leaving the cafe.
“I’ll have to let them go,” Judy decided. “Nothing else to do.”
A moment later the two truckers came outside. Judy did not try to stop
them, but they passed almost in front of her.
The one she had taken to be Joe Pompilli gazed squarely at her.
Involuntarily, he half stopped. Then, deliberately turning his gaze
away, he went on.
“He recognized me!” Judy thought, her pulse pounding. “I know he was
that same man Kathleen and I helped on the road. He was called Joe too!”
Ignoring the girl entirely, the two men went on. Judy saw them get into
a truck which bore the Peoria Cartage Co., name on its side. A moment
before they drove away, she jotted down the license number.
She had just finished scribbling the numbers on the back of an old
envelope, when Kathleen joined her.
“What happened?” her friend demanded. “I thought you were going to have
those men arrested. Couldn’t you reach the Highway Patrol station?”
“I didn’t try,” Judy confessed ruefully.
“You didn’t try? Why not?”
Judy recounted her conversation with the ranger.
“He talked me out of it,” she concluded. “I can’t help thinking I made
a mistake too. I wish I’d ignored his advice. It’s too late now, of
course.”
“I know that man was the same one we met,” Kathleen insisted.
“I’m sure of it too,” Judy nodded. “Ranger Diethelm insists he’s an
ordinary trucker and his name is either Jim Brady or Donald Fine.”
“Well, that doesn’t fit in with what we learned,” Kathleen declared,
shaking her head. “That man was called Joe by his friend.”
“I know,” Judy agreed with a deep sigh. “I’m all mixed up. I guess the
best thing to do is to forget those hi-jackers and let the state patrol
handle the situation. I’ve made a mess of it!”
“No such thing,” Kathleen insisted loyally. “We may have made a
mistake, but if so, it wasn’t our fault. We must have acted on
mis-information.”
Judy grinned and squeezed her friend’s hand. “You’re a dear,” she said,
“always bucking up my morale. Do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
“Then, let’s keep this little episode to ourselves. The other Scouts
didn’t hear about it?”
“No, I didn’t say a word to anyone. I just kept out of view and watched
those two men as you suggested.”
“Good!” Judy drew a relieved sigh. “If this gets out on me, my name
will be mud! You know, I’m already being teased at Pine Cone Camp
because of the Calico Cottage ghost!”
“We’re all taking a ribbing because of that boy with the flute,”
Kathleen admitted. “Any theory as to what causes the strange sounds?”
“No, not yet,” Judy replied. “Everything was quiet the last night I
spent at the cottage. I’m wondering though, how Aunt Mattie got along
last evening?”
“Perhaps our driver will stop at the cottage for a few minutes, so we
can check.”
“I intend to ask him,” Judy returned. “It must be seven o’clock now.”
“It is,” Kathleen agreed, “and our driver is coming now!”
She had sighted the familiar camp station wagon rounding a corner. It
waited for a traffic light and then came on, to park in front of the
restaurant.
The driver had been instructed to make two trips, as not all of the
girls could be seated in the vehicle. Accordingly, he designated those
who should remain behind.
Judy, Kathleen and other members of the Beaver Patrol, managed to find
a place for themselves in the first load.
On short time, the driver told Judy he could not possibly wait at
Calico Cottage. However, he compromised by agreeing to let her and
Kathleen off there, while he continued on to camp. Then on the second
trip, he would pick them up.
“Fine and dandy!” Judy approved. “That will give us nearly an hour to
talk to Aunt Mattie and make certain everything is all right.”
The station wagon climbed the darkening mountain road, presently
halting near the cottage. As Kathleen and Judy alighted, they noticed
that lights blazed everywhere inside the dwelling.
“Aunt Mattie is here all right!” Judy remarked, leading the way across
the lawn. “I wonder why she has all the lights burning?”
“So early too,” Kathleen added.
Even before the Scouts reached the front door, it was flung open by
Miss Meadows, who had noted the arrival of the station wagon.
“Oh, I’m so glad you came!” the woman exclaimed.
Her face seemed drained of all color, and her eyes had a frightened
look.
“Why, Aunt Mattie!” Judy exclaimed. “Is anything wrong?”
“This dreadful cottage!”
“You’ve been hearing music?” Judy surmised.
“Music?”
“What was it that upset you?” Judy asked, realizing she had made a poor
guess. “Not another one of those mysterious telephone calls?”
“No! No!” Miss Meadows stepped back so that the girls might enter the
cottage. “Just come in,” she invited. “Then you’ll hear for yourselves,
and I won’t need to explain!”
_Chapter 16_
ANOTHER DISTURBANCE
Scarcely knowing what to expect, Judy and Kathleen entered Calico
Cottage. Everything appeared quite normal, except that a chair in
the kitchen had been overturned.
“I upset it myself,” Miss Meadows explained. “I--I was rather excited,
I’m afraid.”
“Tell us what happened, Aunt Mattie,” Judy urged. “What disturbed you?”
“It was a dreadful sound from the basement. A sort of moan as if
someone were in pain. And then to top it, there came a series of loud
thumps, very much like muffled thunder.”
“That couldn’t have been someone setting off dynamite at a distance?”
Kathleen suggested. “I know the rangers were blasting trees in the park
area.”
“This sound came from the cellar,” Miss Meadows insisted.
“How long ago, Aunt Mattie?” questioned Judy.
“About ten minutes, I’d judge.”
“Did you go down there to check?”
“To the cellar?” Miss Meadows demanded. “I most assuredly did not!”
“Then I guess the job is up to us,” Judy said, looking directly at
Kathleen. “Where’s that key?”
“I don’t think you should go down into that dreary hole,” Miss Meadows
protested.
“Nonsense, Aunt Mattie! We investigated once before, and everything was
all right. You’ve not had the door unlocked since?”
“Absolutely, not. I’ve been here at the cottage all the while too.”
“Then no one could be down there.”
“I didn’t imagine those weird sounds,” Miss Meadows said. “If you had
been here--”
Suddenly she stiffened. From beneath the kitchen floor there issued
forth a series of muffled thuds.
“Hear it?” Miss Meadows whispered, staring fixedly at the locked cellar
door.
The sound ceased and the cottage was as quiet as before. Judy and
Kathleen stood transfixed, dreading to take the action which they felt
they must.
“Where’s that key?” Judy finally murmured, groping for it on the high
kitchen shelf.
“Don’t go down there,” Miss Meadows advised nervously. “It might be
dangerous.”
“It’s worse not to investigate,” Judy insisted. “You can’t stay here
and live in constant dread.”
Her fingers closed upon the key. She unlocked the door, but hesitated
as she peered down the dark stairway.
“Do you have a flashlight?” she asked Kathleen, who huddled at her
elbow.
“In my knapsack,” Kathleen replied. “But I left it on the station
wagon, never thinking I’d want it here.”
“There are candles on the shelf,” Miss Meadows remembered. “I’ll get
one, if you insist on going down there. I’d rather just move out of
this place though!”
“I don’t know where you’ll find another cottage on short notice,” Judy
told her regretfully. “Everything around here has been taken.”
“I can go to a hotel.”
“The closest one is eighteen miles away. Aunt Mattie, I don’t like
to urge you to stay, but there must be a logical explanation for
these strange noises. I mean to find it too! Let me have one of those
candles.”
Miss Meadows found it for her, and lighted the wick.
“Watch the drip of the wax,” she advised, “or you’ll burn your hand.”
The glowing candle made a flickering, ghostly circle of light on the
rough walls of the stairway.
Resolutely, Judy started down. Close behind her came Kathleen, while
Miss Meadows unwillingly brought up the rear.
Judy descended a half dozen steps, only to pause. A slight breath of
air caused the candle to waver and nearly go out. And at the same
moment, she caught an unpleasant odor which seemed to rise from the
darkness below.
“Mercy!” gasped Miss Meadows, as she too sniffed the air.
The musty scent became stronger as the three went on down. Judy
localized it in the main cellar room, toward the south east wall.
However, in slowly moving the candle about, she could find no cause for
the unpleasant odor.
“It’s such a strange smell,” Kathleen commented with a nervous shiver.
“A sort of stale air scent. But from where does it come?”
Judy asked Kathleen to hold the candle. Carefully, she ran her hand
over the brick wall, feeling along the line of crumbling mortar.
“There’s an opening here!” she suddenly exclaimed. “I can feel cool air
coming in!”
Excited by Judy’s discovery, Kathleen held the candle higher.
As she raised it in line with the brick which Judy’s exploring hand had
found, a direct current of air extinguished the flame.
The three were left in total darkness.
“I’ll get some matches,” Miss Meadows said eager to be out of the
basement. “But is there any need to explore further? Haven’t we
discovered everything there is to learn?”
“Not quite everything,” said Judy. “We’ve learned where that musty
odor comes from though. It is being blasted in through the broken
mortar.”
“How strange,” Kathleen murmured. “Shouldn’t there be solid dirt or
rock behind these walls and under the floor?”
“One would think so,” Judy agreed thoughtfully, “unless--”
“There might be a tunnel connected with the cottage!” Kathleen
speculated.
“A tunnel, possibly tied up with Calico Cave,” Judy carried on the
thought. “Even so, that doesn’t explain those strange banging noises.”
Leaving the girls alone in the cellar, Miss Meadows went quickly for
matches. She returned promptly and the candle was relighted.
This time, Judy was careful to shield it with her hand so that it would
not be blown out.
In the uncertain light, the three were able to see a faint, rectangular
outline on the wall, which marked a division between old and newer
bricks.
“At one time, there must have been an opening here!” Judy asserted,
elated by her discovery. “A long while ago, apparently, the passageway
or whatever it is, was bricked over. Now that the mortar is falling
away, cold air filters in.”
“From where?” Kathleen demanded.
“That’s what we’ll have to learn, if we can. I have a hunch Captain
Hager might be able to supply interesting information.”
“I’ll bet he could at that!” cried Kathleen. “Since he lived in the old
house so many years, he must have known about this bricked up place on
the wall. In fact, he may have closed it himself.”
“The captain hinted that Mr. Krumm made a bad mistake in building the
cottage on the old foundation,” Judy recalled. “I’m sure he knows a lot
about this place that he hasn’t told!”
“Say, wouldn’t it be great if we could solve the mystery before we
leave Pine Cone Camp? You’d win a rental bonus too from Mr. Krumm,
Judy!”
“I don’t care about that part, but it would be fun to hit upon an
explanation for everything that’s happened here. The thing that puzzles
me most is that boy with the flute--”
“Boy with a flute?” Miss Meadow interposed, her voice rising.
Judy regretted her slip of tongue. Nevertheless, having made the
mistake, she could do no less than tell her aunt about the strange
musical notes which had startled the Scouts during the night they had
spent at the cottage.
“What manner of place have I rented?” Miss Meadows gasped. “Is the
cottage haunted?”