becoming sober, she added: “I’m sure there’s no danger here, Aunt
Mattie. Even so, you mustn’t stay another night. Come with us to Pine
Cone Camp. We’ll find a bed for you, and tomorrow we can start looking
for another cottage.”
“And have everyone say I was frightened away?” Miss Meadows reproved
her niece. “The very idea!”
“You mean you’re willing to stay?”
“Yes, I intend to,” Miss Meadows announced firmly. “At least for a day
or so.”
“I’ll remain with you,” Judy offered. “Not that I’ll be any protection.”
To her surprise, Miss Meadows turned her aside. “No,” she told Judy,
“you’ve already lost a great deal of camp fun on my account. You’re not
to worry about me any more, or Calico Cottage.”
“But to leave you alone--”
“I’ll manage,” Miss Meadows said dryly. “Let’s go upstairs now, or you
girls will miss your station wagon.”
“Goodness, I forgot about the driver calling for us!” Kathleen
exclaimed. “We’ve been down here in the cellar quite a while.”
Hastily, the three ascended to the main floor of the cottage. Miss
Meadows locked the cellar door and replaced the key on the cupboard
shelf.
“I intend to forget about those stupid noises,” she asserted. “It will
take a very powerful ghost indeed to dislodge me from my bed tonight.”
Greatly relieved that her aunt was taking such a matter-of-fact view
of an unpleasant situation, Judy said no more about the disturbances.
She and Kathleen began to watch for the camp station wagon, and ten
minutes later, saw its headlights wink in signal from the main road.
“Goodbye, Aunt Mattie,” Judy said, giving her a hasty peck on the
cheek. “If anything should go wrong tonight, you’ll call me at Pine
Cone Camp?”
“I’ll call the police,” Miss Meadows threatened. “Now run along, and
enjoy yourselves.”
Enroute back to camp, Judy and Kathleen did not report their experience
at Calico Cottage. During the drive up the mountain, they were somewhat
silent, but the others took it for granted that the two girls were worn
out from the day’s hike.
In truth, Judy was very tired. Even before the “lights out” signal, she
was snug in her cot, with the warm blankets tucked around her ears.
“I feel as if I could sleep until noon tomorrow,” she murmured
drowsily. “Is there any law, I wonder, about skipping breakfast, and
staying in bed?”
If there was an answer to her question, Judy did not hear it. She fell
into a sound slumber, lulled by the chirp of crickets.
Sometime toward morning, Judy began to dream. A confusion of images
flitted through her mind. She thought she was exploring a cave, that
the White Witch had come alive and was advancing toward her in a
menacing manner.
In her dream, she became aware of a horrible odor. The scent enveloped
her, stifling her so that she could not breathe.
Awakening, Judy found herself battling the blankets which she had
pulled up over her head. She laughed in relief. The White Witch was
only a nightmare! There was no disagreeable odor--or was there?
Thrusting the covers aside, Judy sat up in bed. Fearfully, she sniffed
the air. The odor had not been entirely in her dream! The air was
chilly, filled with an acrid scent she could not identify immediately.
Then suddenly, Judy knew. She bolted out of bed, the cold chills
racing down her spine. The tent was filled with smoke! The camp must be
afire!
_Chapter 17_
SMOKE IN THE WOODS
Thoroughly alert now, Judy awakened her tent mates, warning them of the
danger.
“What’s this?” mumbled Ardeth, drugged by sleep and unwilling to leave
her comfortable cot.
“Get out of here fast, unless you want to be burned!” Judy said
tersely, giving her a hard shake. “The forest is on fire!”
The other Beaver Patrol Scouts who shared the tent, already were out of
bed and dressing with frenzied haste. Judy pulled on her own clothes,
aware that more and more smoke was swirling about the canvas shelter.
Once outside, she saw the source of the fire. Heavy black smoke was
billowing toward the camp from the woods where duff and debris were
ablaze.
Judy’s first moment of relief that camp buildings and tents were
intact, gave way to concern. The surface fire was dangerously close.
Fed by a light but steady wind, the flames were moving toward the camp
with amazing speed!
As she started for the adjoining tents to awaken the girls there, a
gong in the main dining room sounded the first alarm.
Bong! Bong! Bong!
Tent flaps went apart, and sleep-eyed Scouts began to thrust tousled
heads out into the cold night air.
“What’s up?” demanded Beverly, one of the first Beaver Patrol girls to
scramble into her clothes. “Is the camp afire?”
“Not yet, but it will be if we don’t work fast!” Judy asserted. “Oh!”
She uttered a little scream as a flying brand, borne by the wind,
dropped in the grass only a few feet away.
Badly frightened, she and Beverly ran to stamp out the tiny flames.
By this time, the camp was in confusion. Scouts were pouring out of
their tents, milling about, chattering excitedly.
Unit leaders quickly gained control of the situation, ordering everyone
to the main lodge assembly room.
Miss Lubell spoke tersely to the girls.
“Now there is no cause for alarm,” she advised everyone. “The fire is
very close to our camp, and the wind is in this direction, but rangers
are on their way here. I notified them by telephone. The fire already
had been spotted from the observation tower.”
“Will we have to evacuate the camp?” inquired Miss Ward.
“That depends entirely upon whether or not the fire quickly can be
brought under control,” the camp director replied. “So far, it is not
wide-spread, but the head is moving in this direction.”
“Can’t we do anything until the rangers come?” Judy interposed.
“We can,” Miss Lubell said. “We can’t hope to fight the fire, but we
can take steps to keep it under control. Each unit is to report to
its leader and follow her orders. We’ll wet down the tents and the
buildings to protect them from flying sparks. Then we’ll make a fire
break by clearing a ditch ahead of the spreading flames!”
Pouring out of the assembly hall, the Beaver Patrol Scouts clustered
about their unit leader and Miss Ward. Under direction, they carried
buckets of water from the lake, dousing the walls of their tents
thoroughly.
To be prepared for a quick evacuation, in the event one was ordered,
they hastily tossed their belongings into suitcases.
This done, they raced to the edge of the camp, to assist counselors,
who frantically had started to dig a shallow trench or fire break.
Using garden hoes, rakes, spades and other implements at hand, the
Scouts rapidly cleared a band several feet wide between the camp and
the spreading ground fire.
A few sparks were flying, but those which dropped in dry grass,
instantly were extinguished by a unit assigned to that particular task.
By this time, the wind had spread the fire into an elliptical shape.
Inexorably, it crept nearer and nearer the trench the girls were
digging.
“It’s going to be nip and tuck to save the camp,” Miss Lubell gasped.
“Don’t give up, girls!”
Against the flames, trees were silhouetted as dark, towering shapes.
The sight was a terrifying one. But even though they could feel the
heat in their faces, the Scouts kept doggedly at work.
Then suddenly a cry went up.
“The rangers!” cried a Lone Tree Scout. “They’ve come!”
Judy drew a deep, tired sigh of relief as she saw the Forest Service
truck roll in with fire-fighting equipment.
“Our job is done now,” Miss Lubell said, wiping a smudge from her
cheek. “We’ll let the men take over. Everyone report in the assembly
room.”
The Scouts all checked in, and after washing up, watched the crew of
rangers attack the fire.
A tractor widened and completed the ditch started by the Scouts. This
task accomplished, rangers beat out some of the flames which had jumped
the “break,” and hooked up a power pump.
Sleep was out of the question for the excited Scouts. They kept in
orderly groups, but remained at the assembly room windows, watching
every phase of the efficient fire fighting work.
The Beaver Patrol girls, those of the Lone Tree unit, and the Oriole
outfit, volunteered to help in the kitchen. Gallons of coffee were
prepared for the rangers.
“We’ve made enough for an army of workers!” Judy laughed.
The beverage was kept hot, ready to serve whenever a tired fire fighter
could leave his post.
By four o’clock, the rangers announced that the fire finally was under
complete control. Relaxing a bit from their arduous labors, the men
took turns dropping around at the kitchen for coffee and a sandwich.
Arthur Wentz, one of the first rangers to come, praised the Scouts
warmly for their well organized efforts prior to the arrival of the
forest service truck.
“This could have been a bad fire,” he remarked. “There are three
types--surface, ground and crown. But all start as surface fires.”
Judy asked the ranger to distinguish between the different
classifications.
“Surface fires, as the name implies, burn only the loose debris on top
of the ground,” he explained. “That’s the type of thing we encountered
here. Sometimes, the fire eats down into the layer of undecomposed
material on the forest floor, and then you have a ground fire. The most
difficult of all are those which spread into the trees, or the crown
fires.”
“How do you suppose this one started?” Miss Ward asked the ranger.
“That’s hard to say,” he replied.
Lowell Diethelm, the ranger Judy had met in the village the previous
evening, now tramped into the kitchen. He had overheard Miss Ward’s
question and the reply.
“It’s plain enough how the fire started,” he commented, pouring himself
a mug of coffee.
“How?” Judy asked.
“Someone from this camp has been careless about fire.”
A stunned silence followed the observation. Then, almost as a unit, the
Girl Scouts began to protest.
“I don’t think that’s fair to say!” exclaimed Kathleen indignantly. “Do
you have any proof that the fire was started by anyone in this camp?”
“No proof,” the ranger admitted. “Just circumstantial evidence. You
girls had a cook-out last night?”
“We started a fire at Fountain Falls,” Judy said. “You knew about that.
We put it out too!”
“Anyway, that’s miles from here!” Betty Bashe broke in. “This fire
started close to our camp.”
“Exactly my point,” replied Diethelm. “Any other cook-outs last night?”
“Our unit had one,” spoke up a Scout from the Lone Tree patrol. “We
were accompanied by our leaders though, and built our fire on a rock.
Every spark was extinguished before we left the spot.”
“That’s what you thought,” Diethelm said, none too pleasantly. “I’m
not saying the Scouts started this fire, but I do say, it looks rather
suspicious. If the fire hadn’t been reported so quickly, the entire
camp might have burned.”
“That’s for sure,” agreed Arthur Wentz. “But I think you’re being
unjust to the girls, Lowell. The fire may have been started by a
carelessly dropped cigarette or a match. Or it could have been
deliberately set.”
“What’s that?” Diethelm demanded, startled.
“Just a little thought I had,” Wentz replied with an odd smile.
Diethelm seemed to have been made uncomfortable by the remark and
pursued the subject no further. He gulped down his coffee and soon left
the kitchen.
“Don’t take what he said too seriously,” Wentz told the Scouts. “This
camp has a good record. No one knows how the fire started.”
“I can assure you that it was not touched off by any of our girls,”
asserted Miss Lubell firmly. “We’ve taken every precaution against
fire.”
Although heavy smoke still hung over the camp area, the flames no
longer were spreading. A ranger was assigned to remain behind to watch
the smoldering debris. The others loaded their truck and presently
drove away.
Worn out by their strenuous activities, the Scouts returned to their
cots to try to snatch a few winks of sleep before dawn. Their eyes
smarted, but tired as they were, they were too excited to relax. Most
of the girls were relieved when the gong sounded as a signal for them
to dress again and assemble for breakfast.
Great quantities of hot chocolate, scrambled eggs, toast and fruit,
brought cheer to the Scouts. Nevertheless, the main topic at the table
was the unjust accusation which Lowell Diethelm had leveled at the
organization.
“I’ve never liked that ranger,” Judy remarked to Virginia, who sat
beside her. “I guess it’s mean to say, because a Girl Scout should try
to like folks, but there’s something about him--”
“I know what you mean,” nodded Virginia, reaching for another piece of
toast. “He doesn’t seem friendly as the other rangers do.”
“I can’t get over what happened today about that trucker,” Judy went
on, thinking aloud. “Suppose I was right, and Diethelm was mistaken--”
She broke off then, for Miss Ward had come into the dining hall, and
was signaling to her.
“Judy, you’re wanted at the telephone,” the teacher called. “Your aunt,
I think.”
Judy went quickly to Miss Lubell’s office. The call must be important,
she reasoned, else her aunt would not have phoned at such an early
morning hour. She was afraid Aunt Mattie had learned of the fire and
was alarmed for her safety. Either that, or the ghost of Calico Cottage
had put in another appearance!
As she took down the receiver, her first fears were confirmed. Miss
Meadows was in a great state of agitation, having been informed that a
fire was raging at Pine Cone Camp.
“It was only a little fire, and it never reached our camp,” Judy
explained patiently. “Now don’t worry one tiny bit, Aunt Mattie!
Everything is all right here.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Miss Meadows sighed. “I confess, I’ve spent a
dreadful night.”
“No more disturbances, I hope.”
“It depends upon what you mean by disturbances,” Miss Meadows returned
stiffly. “There were no weird sounds from the basement. But other
things happened.”
“What sort of things?”
“I can’t tell you over the telephone,” Miss Meadows answered. “Just
come as quickly as you can to the cottage!”
And with that, she hung up the receiver.
_Chapter 18_
AN URGENT CALL
It was well after seven o’clock when Judy, accompanied by Kathleen,
arrived at Calico Cottage.
The trip down the mountain in the station wagon had not been without
excitement. Less than a half mile from the cottage, the driver had been
halted by state patrolmen, who had set up a road block.
At first, the girls had assumed that motorists on the main highway were
being stopped because of the fire which still smoldered in the Pine
Cone Camp area. Therefore, it came as a surprise to learn that the road
block had been set up for an entirely different purpose.
The state highway patrolman informed them that a truckload of auto
parts had been hi-jacked during the night on a lonely stretch of road
between the towns of Silverton and Grove City, some miles away. The
truck was known to have followed the mountain road, making for the
state line, yet had seemed to disappear into thin air.
“Somehow those birds get wind of where our road blocks are set up,”
the highway patrolman had said. “The hi-jackers have a hide-out. When
we’re not on their trail, they slip off the road somewhere and wait
until the coast is clear.”
The bold tactics of the hi-jackers were of intense interest to the
girls because of their own meeting with two of the men believed to be
members of the gang.
Nor had Judy erased from her mind the fact that only a few hours
earlier, she had seen the man she believed to be Joe Pompilli.
She was reflecting upon the matter as the station wagon driver let the
girls off at Calico Cottage. Why, she wondered, had Lowell Diethelm
been so certain that she was mistaken in the identification?
“He seemed honest enough in thinking that the man was a regular trucker
on the road,” she thought. “But if I were right, and Diethelm made a
mistake--”
Her reflections were interrupted by Kathleen, who nudged her in the
ribs.
“Why so sober, Judy?”
“I was just speculating on those hi-jackers, Kathy,” Judy replied as
they started across the dew-laden lawn. “I’m more than half convinced
that we made a bad mistake last night.”
“You think we let Joe Pompilli get away?”
“We must have. Kathy, he and that other fellow we didn’t know, may have
been killing time at the restaurant, waiting for that truckload of auto
parts to go through town! Then, they merely followed, and picked the
truck off at a convenient spot on the road.”
“That makes a nice sounding explanation,” Kathleen chuckled. “But
there’s one bad flaw in your reasoning.”
“Two of ’em,” Judy admitted with a grin. “First, it doesn’t seem
logical that Joe Pompilli would dare show up in this area when he must
know that state highway patrolmen are on the alert.”
“He was badly hurt in that accident too,” Kathleen added.
“Maybe not as seriously as we thought. The other defect in my theory is
that Lowell Diethelm positively identified him as a regular trucker on
the road.”
“That’s the part one can’t get around,” Kathleen nodded soberly.
“Either the patrolmen made a mistake in identifying an ordinary
trucker as Joe Pompilli, or Lowell Diethelm has been misled.”
“In either case, I guess it’s too late for us to do anything about it
now,” Judy admitted. “We had our chance, and we muffed it.”
Walking carefully so that they would not soak their shoes with the
heavy dew, the girls tramped across the lawn to the back door of Calico
Cottage.
Miss Meadows, who had seen them coming, flung open the door.
“I’m ashamed to have telephoned you,” she apologized. “Have you had
breakfast?”
“An early one,” Judy replied as she and Kathleen entered the warm
kitchen. “If those are muffins I smell, we can eat another one though!”
“Blueberry muffins,” Miss Meadows smiled, peeping into the oven. “You
arrived at just the right time, for they’ll be done in three minutes.”
“Aunt Mattie, why did you send such an urgent telephone message?” Judy
asked abruptly. “You said it wasn’t the ghost again.”
“No, the basement was quiet enough last night.”
“Then what did happen?”
“I know you think I’m nervous and silly--”
“No such thing, Aunt Mattie.”
“It was those lights that bothered me again. Now that it’s morning,
I feel much better about it. But last night, and until after I
telephoned, I felt so jittery.”
“Lights on the private road?” Judy questioned.
Miss Meadows did not answer until after she had removed the muffins
from the oven. Then she said:
“I awoke about two o’clock, I’d judge. I can’t explain it, but I had a
strong feeling that something was wrong. I lay there in bed for awhile,
listening. I could hear the muffled rumble of a big truck engine.”
“Nothing so unusual about that, Aunt Mattie. A great many trucks pass
on the main highway, even at night.”
“This truck didn’t pass,” Miss Meadows said impressively. “I saw the
lights flash past my bedroom window. Because I was nervous and couldn’t
sleep, I got up and looked out. I saw the truck stop, and the lights
went off. Then the truck turned down that old road.”
Judy and Kathleen had listened attentively to Miss Meadows’ account.
They exchanged a quick glance but remained silent.
“I suppose there’s no occasion to be bothered about a truck turning
down a private road,” Judy’s aunt chattered on. “It shouldn’t worry me,
I know. But I kept imagining all sorts of things, wondering if those
men might be hi-jackers.”
“Aunt Mattie, we don’t consider you one bit silly to be nervous about
it,” Judy said quickly. “You didn’t telephone the state highway patrol?”
“No, I thought of it, but after all, I didn’t know but what the trucks
had a right to be on that road. It could have been loggers?”
“How long did the truck remain on the private road?” Judy asked.
“So far as I know, it’s still there. I set up and watched until dawn.
Since then, I’ve been rather busy.”
“If the truck is still on that road, we should check--” Kathleen
suggested quickly.
“I think we should,” Miss Meadows agreed. “I’d have done it myself,
only to tell you the truth, I was afraid to go alone.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” Judy backed her up. “When do we start? Right now?”
“No, finish your breakfast first,” Miss Meadows urged. “Such nice
muffins shouldn’t be wasted.”
Their thoughts on the investigation before them, Judy and Kathleen ate
quickly. Miss Meadows apologized for not having any milk to offer.
“I ran out yesterday,” she remarked, “and the new milkman always comes
very late.”
“The new milkman?” Judy repeated, nearly dropping her knife. “What
became of Bart?”
“I understand he’s given up his job. The new man told me that Bart
quit because of something special he wanted to do before the start of
college.”
“Something special,” mused Judy. “You know what I think! Bart quit so
he could thoroughly explore Calico Cave!”
“Oh, dear, I hope not,” Miss Meadows murmured. “That sounds frightfully
dangerous. You don’t think he’d explore very far alone?”
“I certainly do,” replied Judy. “From the little Bart said to me, I’m
sure he hopes to solve the mystery of what became of his father. To do
that, he’d have to brave the siphon.”
“Gracious! I never heard of anything so reckless!” Miss Meadows gasped.
“Why, the authorities shouldn’t allow it!”
“I don’t imagine Bart told anyone of his plan,” Judy answered. “He’s
thoroughly familiar with the cave, and it would be safe enough for him
to explore, providing he didn’t try to go through the siphon.”
“Just what is a siphon?” Kathleen inquired.
“As I understand it, a siphon is a tunnel through the cave, with a
submerged ceiling. If one were a good swimmer, as Bart apparently is,
one might dive and swim through it to open air on the other side.”
“That’s assuming that the tunnel wasn’t very long,” Miss Meadows
commented.
“True,” Judy nodded. “It would be a terrifying experience. Only a very
courageous and foolhardy explorer would attempt it.”
“Bart’s just the type to risk it!” Kathleen asserted. “I wonder when he
plans to tackle the siphon?”
“From what the new milkman told me, he may be in the cave even now!”
Miss Meadows said with a shudder. “The mere thought of it frightens me.”
“Bart knows how to take care of himself,” Judy declared to relieve her
aunt’s mind somewhat. “I’m sure he does.”
Breakfast over, Miss Meadows hastily cleared away the few dishes which
had been used. She refused to let the girls wash them, insisting that
she would stack them in the sink for a good soaking.
“Let’s explore the road to the cave now,” she urged. “I’ll feel much
better if I satisfy myself that everything is all right.”
“We could call the Forest Service or one of the state highway
patrolmen, if you’d rather,” Kathleen proposed.
“If the truck shouldn’t be there, or if it had a right to be, I’d
never live down the mistake I’d made,” Miss Meadows said. “No, I’d
prefer to do a bit of checking for myself first.”
She put on her heavy jacket as protection against the morning chill,
and locked all the doors. The three then crossed the main highway and
turned down the narrow rutty dirt road.
The sun was showing itself through the tall trees, as the explorers
made their way down the steep slope. Almost at once, Miss Meadows
triumphantly pointed to heavy tire tracks on the roadbed.
“See, I was right!” she exclaimed. “Those tire marks show that a big
truck went down this road last night.”
“Apparently only in one direction too,” Judy agreed. “This road
dead-ends, so either the truck had to turn around and come back, or
it’s still down there somewhere.”
Quickening their pace, but becoming very quiet, the three moved on.
Presently they came to the end of the road.
“No truck here!” Kathleen exclaimed, halting.
“Here’s where it made a turn,” Judy said, pointing to deep tire marks
in the road and grass.
Then she saw the truck itself. It had been driven entirely off the road
and parked in a thick clump of bushes behind a shield of trees. Even
so, the massive vehicle was only partially hidden from view.
While Kathleen and Miss Meadows waited tensely, Judy cautiously crept
through the bushes to obtain a closer glimpse of the big truck.
The cab was deserted. Had the truck run out of gas perhaps, or was it
being hidden there to escape detection?
Judy was quite certain she knew the answer, but to confirm her
suspicions, she circled the transport. At the rear, she tried the big
double doors which gave access to the cargo. They were locked.
Unable to learn more, she returned to report to her aunt and Kathleen.