Surprise held Tom and his friends almost spellbound for the moment.
The young inventor's hand went toward the pocket where he carried his
revolver. Mr. Jenks, who had the only other weapon, sought to draw it,
but he was stopped by a gesture of one of the two men with guns.
“Hold on, strangers!” the man cried. “I know what you're up to! Better
not try to draw anything--it might not be healthy. Now, then, who are
you, and what do you want?”
The question came rather as a surprise, at least to Tom and Mr. Jenks.
They had taken it for granted that these men--if they were the diamond
makers--would know Mr. Jenks, and guess at his errand in coming back
to Phantom Mountain. But, it seemed, that they took them all for casual
strangers.
No one answered for a moment. Tom caught the eye of Mr. Jenks, and there
was a look of hope in it. If ever there was a time for strategy, it was
now. Evidently Munson, the stowaway on the airship, had not yet been
able to send a warning to his confederates. And neither of the two men
recognized Mr. Jenks as the man who had been defrauded of his rights.
It might be possible to conceal the real object of the adventurers until
they had time to formulate a plan of action.
“Well,” exclaimed the man with the gun, impatiently, “I ask you folks a
question. What do you want?”
Fortunately, neither Mr. Damon nor Mr. Parker replied. The former
because he deferred to Tom and Mr. Jenks, and the scientist because he
was busy inspecting some curious rocks he picked up. As it turned out
this was the luckiest thing he could have done. It lent color to what
Mr. Jenks said a moment later.
“What are you doing up here?” demanded the man again. “Don't you know
this is private property?”
“We--we were just looking around,” answered Mr. Jenks, which was true
enough; as far as it went.
“Prospecting,” added Tom.
“After gold?” demanded the second man, suspiciously.
“We'd be glad to find some,” retorted the lad. At that moment Mr. Parker
began breaking off bits of rock with a small geologist's hammer which he
carried. The men with the guns looked at him.
“So you think you'll find gold up here?” asked the one who had first
spoken.
“Is there any?” inquired Tom, trying to make his voice sound eager.
“Nary a bit, strangers,” was the answer, and the two men laughed
heartily. “Now, we don't want to seem harsh,” went on the man who seemed
to be the spokesman, “but you'd better get away from here. This is
private ground, and dangerous too--how'd you ever get up the trail--we
heard it was destroyed.”
“There is still a narrow path,” said Mr. Jenks. “We came up that--the
lightning and landslide haven't left much of it, though.”
Mr. Parker looked quickly up from the rocks at which he was tapping with
his small hammer. “You have terrific lightning up here,” he said. “I am
much interested in it, from a scientific standpoint. I predict that some
day the entire mountain will be destroyed by a blast from the sky.”
“I hope it won't be right away,” spoke one of the men. “Now I guess you
folks had better be leaving while there's a path left to go down by.”
“Might I ask,” broke in Mr. Parker, as calmly as though he was lecturing
to a class of students, “might I ask if you have noticed any peculiar
effect of the lightning up here on the summit of the mountain? Does it
fuse and melt rocks, so to speak?”
“What's that?” cried the spokesman, with a sudden flash of anger. The
two men looked at each other.
“I wanted to know, merely for scientific reasons, whether the lightning
up here ever melted rocks?” repeated Mr. Jenks.
“Well, whether it's for scientific reasons or for any other, I'm not
going to answer you!” snapped the man. “It's none of your affair what
the lightning does up here. Now you'd all better 'vamoose'--clear out!”
“All right--we'll go,” said Tom, quickly, at the same time motioning to
Mr. Jenks to agree with him. The eyes of the young inventor were
roving about. He saw what looked like a second trail, leading down the
mountain, from the far side of the cave. He was convinced now that there
was another way to get to it. Possibly they might find it. At any rate
nothing more could be done now. They must go back, for the cavern was
too well guarded to attempt to enter it by force--at least just yet.
“Yes, we'll go back,” assented Mr. Jenks.
Mr. Parker was tapping away at the rocks. He looked toward the black
mouth of the big cave. On what corresponded to the roof of it, some
distance back from the entrance, he saw a slender metal rod sticking up
into the air.
“May I ask if that's a lightning rod?” he inquired innocently. “If
it is, I should like to ask about its action in a mountain that is so
impregnated with iron ore.
“You may ask until you get tired!” cried the spokesman, again showing
unreasoning anger, “but you'll get no answer from us. Now get away from
here before we do something desperate. You're on private ground and
you're not wanted. Clear out while you have the chance.”
There was no help for it. Slowly our friends turned and began to go
down the dangerous trail. They were soon out of sight of the two men who
stood before the cave, with their guns ready, but neither Tom nor any of
his companions spoke for some time.
When they had rounded one of the most dangerous turns the young inventor
sat down to rest, an example followed by the others.
“Well,” asked Tom, “do you think those are some of the diamond makers,
Mr. Jenks?”
“I certainly do, though I never saw those two men before. If I could
once get inside the cave, I could tell whether or not it was the one
where I was practically held a prisoner. But I'm sure it is. I know some
of the men used to go off every day with guns, and not come back until
night. I have no doubt they were on guard, just as these two are. And,
also, I think I heard them speak of a second entrance to the cavern. The
one we just saw may not be the main one, through which I was taken.”
“I believe we are on the right track,” ventured Mr. Damon, “but we will
either have to go up there after dark, which will be risky, on account
of the narrow trail, or else we will have to find some other path.”
“The last would be better,” spoke Tom.
“That rod of metal sticking up on top of the cave interested me,” said
the scientist. “Did you hear anything of that when you were here before,
Mr. Jenks?”
“No. Probably that is only a lightning rod, or it may be a staff for a
signal flag. But what surprises me is that those men didn't suspect
that we were seeking to discover their secret. They took us for ordinary
prospectors.”
“So much the better,” remarked Tom. “We have a chance now of getting
inside that cave. But we will have to go back to camp, and make other
plans. And we must hurry, or it will be dark before we get there.”
They hastened their steps, pausing only briefly to eat some of the lunch
they had brought along, and to drink from a spring that bubbled from the
side of the mountain. It was getting dusk when they got back to their
tent. They found nothing disturbed.
“I wonder if we'll see that phantom again to-night?” ventured Tom, as
they were sitting about the campfire a little later.
“Probably not,” remarked Mr. Jenks. “I don't believe the ghost will
venture down the dangerous trail after dark, and the gang may think
that the warning given us by the two men on guard at the cave will be
sufficient. But if we don't leave here by to-morrow I think we will have
another visit from the thing in white.”
It was about an hour after this when Tom was collecting some wood in a
pile nearer the fire, so as to have it ready to throw on, in case there
was any alarm in the night, that he happened to look up toward the
summit of the mountain. A slight noise, as of loose stones rolling down,
attracted his attention, and, at first, he feared lest another landslide
was beginning, but a moment later he saw what caused it.
There, advancing down the steep and dangerous trail was the figure
in white--the phantom. Instantly a daring plan came into Tom's head.
Dropping the wood softly, he moved back out of the glare of the fire.
“Mr. Jenks!” he called in a whisper.
The diamond man, who was behind the tent, came toward Tom.
“What is it?” he asked. Then, as he saw the ghostly visitor, he added:
“Oh--the phantom again! What's it up to?”
“The same thing,” replied Tom, “but it won't do it long, if my plan
succeeds.”
“What plan is that, Tom?”
“I'm going to try to capture that--that man--or whatever it is. Will you
help?”
“Surely!”
“Then let's work around behind it, while Mr. Damon and Mr. Parker come
up from in front. We'll solve this part of the mystery, anyhow, if it's
possible!”
The two other men were soon told of the plan. Meanwhile the thing in
white had advanced slowly, until within a few hundred feet of the camp.
They could see now that it was no shaft of light, but some white body,
shaped like a tall, thin man, draped in a white garment. The long arms
waved to and fro. There was no semblance of a head.
“You and Mr. Parker go right toward it, slowly, Mr. Damon,” advised
Tom. “Mr. Jenks and I will make a circle, and get in back. Then, if it's
anything alive we'll have it.”
The “ghost” continued to advance. Tom and the diamond man stole off to
one side, their buckskin moccasins making no sound. Mr. Damon and the
scientist went boldly forward.
This movement appeared to disconcert the spirit. It halted, waved the
arms with greater vigor than before, and seemed to indicate to the
adventurers that it was dangerous to advance. But Mr. Damon and Mr.
Parker kept on. They wanted to give Tom and Mr. Jenks time enough to
make the circuit.
Suddenly the stillness of the night was broken by a low whistle. It was
Tom's signal that he and Mr. Jenks were ready.
“Come on! Run!” cried Mr. Damon.
The scientist and the eccentric man leaped forward.
The “ghost” heard the whistle, and heard the spoken words. The thing in
white hesitated a moment, and then raised one arm. There was a flash of
fire, and a loud report.
“He's firing in the air!” cried Tom. “Come on, we have him now!”
Undaunted by the display of firearms, Mr. Damon and Mr. Parker kept on.
They could hear Tom and Mr. Jenks running up in back of the figure.
The latter also heard this, and suddenly turned. Caught between the two
forces of our friends, the “ghost” was at a loss what to do.
The next instant Tom, who had distanced Mr. Jenks, made a flying tackle
for the figure in white, and caught it around the legs. Very substantial
legs they were, too, Tom felt--the legs of a man.
“Wow!” yelled the “ghost,” as he went down in a heap, the revolver
falling from his hand.
“Come on!” cried Tom. “I have him!”
His friends rushed to his aid. There was a confused mass of dark bodies,
arms and legs mingled with something tall and thin, all in white.
Suddenly the moon came from behind a cloud and they could see what they
had captured--for captured the phantom was.
It proved to be a rather small man, who wore upon his shoulders a
framework of wood, over which some white cloth was draped. It had fallen
off him when Tom made that tackle.
“Well,” remarked the young inventor, as he sat on the struggling man's
chest. “I guess we've got you.”
“I rather guess you have, stranger,” was the cool reply.