THE WEEPING VOICE
“Where are you girls going?”
It was Jack who demanded this of his sister and the other Camp Fire
devotees as they filed past Stony Point a day or so after the fiasco in
the old mill.
“Evidently they’re going to make a day of it,” observed Blake. “They’ve
got their lunch,” and he glanced significantly at several baskets the
girls carried.
“And their knitting, too,” added Phil.
“Thank you. This isn’t knitting,” responded Natalie, as she waved a
string of colored beads, woven into a broad band. “These are going to be
our—is it totem poles, girls?” and she appealed to the others.
“Totem poles!” cried Blake. “Say, you’re not Alaska Indians! Totem poles
are those telegraph spiles carved with beasts and birds, and colored
like a Chinese rainbow, that you see in the museums! Totem Poles! Oh
my!” and he doubled up with mirth.
“Well, it’s something on that order, anyhow,” went on Natalie. “These
are our head-bands. Mine is almost finished,” and she showed her pretty
conventionalized design of a dark-green pine tree on a turquoise-blue
background.
“Are you going to weave some of those to-day?” asked Phil. “That’s the
way with girls. They go off in the woods for a day’s outing, and trot
along a book, or some of that filmy lace stuff, and that’s how they
enjoy themselves.”
“Well, it’s just as much fun for us, as it is for you boys to lie around
doing nothing, or cutting fish poles or—or—whatever you do,” said Alice,
rather at a loss for comparisons.
“But where are you bound for?” persisted Blake.
“Oh, off for a day in the woods,” said Mrs. Bonnell, noncommittally.
“Aren’t we coming?” inquired Phil.
“Not this time, little boy. Run along and finish doing your breakfast
dishes,” mocked Marie. “We’re going out riding with some better-looking
chaps than you.”
“Meaning those fellows from We-Too camp?” demanded Jack.
“They happen to be going to take us,” said Natalie. “And we’ll be sure
of getting there and getting back.”
“Meaning a knock at our faithful old gasoline craft,” put in Blake. “All
right, young ladies, if you do get stuck you needn’t signal us for a
tow. You can walk home. Come on, fellows, we’re insulted,” and he
stalked back into the tent.
“Come on, girls, or we’ll be late,” urged Mabel. “Have we got
everything?”
“If we haven’t we can’t carry any more,” declared Natalie. “I wonder if
I’ll do any work on my bead head-band now that I’ve toted it along with
me, and the loom, too,” and she regarded it rather regretfully.
“Oh, we’ll have lots of time to make bead work,” said Alice. “It won’t
take us long to explore the old mill, and then we can pic-nic and do as
we please.”
“Then you don’t believe we’ll find anything?” asked Natalie.
“Not a blessed thing, my dear,” answered Alice, “except cobwebs, with
big, fat spiders in them——”
“Oh, you horrid thing!” cried Mabel. “I’ll not set foot in the old
place!” and she hung back.
“We’ll get a broom and brush them all down,” said Mrs. Bonnell. “There
are the boys beckoning to us. Hurry, my dears!”
They had passed along the lake shore beyond the camp of Jack and his
chums, and were now approaching the We-Too aggregation of tents, this
being the name adopted by the young men who had assisted in the search
for Natalie that night. They had been friends with the girls and their
brothers since.
“My! you’re equipped for a long stay,” remarked Ford Armstrong, one of
the campers, as he saw the well-laden girls and their guardian. “Let me
take some of your bundles.”
“And whatever you do, don’t drop that basket!” cautioned Alice. “It’s
got eggs in it, and some of them may not be hard-boiled.”
“There are olives in here, so don’t you dare drop this,” added Mabel,
surrendering her bundle to Harry Watson.
“And you really want to stay around that old mill all day?” questioned
Ford, as he helped them into the waiting launch.
“Hush! Not so loud!” cautioned Mrs. Bonnell. “We don’t want our boys to
know about it, but we’re going to bait the ghost there you see.”
“And here is some of the bait,” laughed Mabel, pointing to the baskets
of food.
“All right, we’ll keep your secret,” promised Wentworth Jones. “What
time shall we come back for you?”
“Before dark; or we’ll never speak to you again,” threatened Alice.
“Oh, but I thought, with the moonlight—” began Natalie.
“Natalie Fuller! if you want to stay around that spooky old mill after
dark you may!” exclaimed Marie, “but I’m not going to. It’s all right in
daylight, but when the shades of night begin falling fast, I want to be
in my own little tent. So don’t you boys fail to come before dark.”
The gallant escort promised and then, observed by the envious eyes of
Jack and his chums, the Camp Fire Girls, and their new friends, puffed
away in the launch across the lake toward the old mill.
They reached it without incident, disembarked and were soon at the
ancient structure, their friends carrying up the lunch and other
impedimenta.
“And now we shall leave you to your fates,” said Ford Armstrong, with
mock heroics.
“And don’t forget about coming after us,” warned Mabel, shaking a finger
at him.
Laughingly the boys promised once more, and then departed in their
launch, rather wishing the girls had asked them to stay.
“Now we must begin our search!” declared Natalie. “We will work a while
and then rest, eat and string beads, and do some more searching. I’m
going to find that secret room!”
“Natalie will insist on that,” remarked Mabel. “Oh, what a scary place!”
she added, as she looked around the gloomy old mill.
“Hark!” called Marie softly.
“Oh, what is it?” demanded Alice, grasping the arm of Natalie.
“Don’t!” begged the other. “That’s my sore place—where the briars
scratched me.”
“Sillies! It isn’t anything but the wind rattling,” said Mrs. Bonnell.
“If you’re going to scream at every sound we might as well stop now.”
“Oh, let’s begin!” cried Natalie. “I do so want to beat the boys at
their own game. Come on, I’ll lead the way,” and she darted toward the
stairs.
“Be careful,” warned the guardian, “you don’t want to sprain your ankle
again.”
“And those stairs aren’t any too safe,” added Marie.
But they managed to get up them in safety, and found themselves in an
upper story of the mill. There were remains of old machinery, now rusted
and broken, and big bins for the storage of grain.
The mill was a rambling structure, that seemed to have been built on and
added to from time to time. It had also served as a home for the
families of the various millers. There were passage-ways leading from
room to room, sometimes little flights of steps necessitated because the
floors were on different levels. But, as far as the girls could see,
there was no place for any substantial creature to hide.
“Though of course ghosts could stow themselves away in a rat hole,”
observed Mabel.
“Don’t say ghosts and rats up here,” begged Marie.
“Let’s go down stairs and look around,” suggested Natalie. “We’ll make a
fire, if we can find anything, and be cosy as we sit about it. Then we
can eat when we’re ready. Did you bring that box of candy, Mabel?”
“I did—what’s left of it.”
“Oh! nearly five pounds gone since the first of the week!” exclaimed
Mrs. Bonnell. “Girls, your indigestions will be ruined!”
“Good!” laughed Alice.
Their search down stairs was no more fruitful. They passed through room
after room, where the grinding of various grist had been done years ago.
Here was more machinery, all in ruins. They peered out at the
moss-covered mill-wheel, broken and shattered, below which was trickling
a little stream of water.
But of ghosts, real or fancied, there was not a trace. There were even
no unusual noises, though Mabel remarked that night was the time for
them.
“Well, let’s make a fire,” suggested Natalie. “It’s damp and chilly in
here. The boys have left us enough wood,” she said, as they all got back
to the room where the fireplace was.
They kindled a little blaze, and were sitting about it, talking and
laughing. Mabel was getting out the box of candy when Natalie, who was
sitting nearest the chimney, raised her hand for silence.
They all listened.
“What is it?” whispered Mabel.
“Hush!” cautioned Natalie.
Then they all became aware of a faint, moaning cry. It was like some one
sobbing at a distance.
The girls, with wide-opened eyes, looked at one another. Natalie softly
arose and leaned nearer the opening of the fireplace.
“Come here!” she whispered to her companions.
On tiptoes they stole to her side. They could now hear more plainly the
sobbing voice.
“It’s the ghost—crying!” whispered Natalie. “We have found it!”