A WARNING.
The two boys arrived back at the camp shortly before five o’clock.
During the return trip they had not seen a single person, even the
keeper of the dam being away when they got there.
“I don’t know about you, Bob, but believe me, I’m tired,” Jack
declared as he threw himself on his bed almost as soon as they had
entered their cabin.
“I don’t feel exactly rested myself,” Bob smiled as he followed
suit.
For half an hour neither spoke again then a knock sounded on the
door and Mr. Sleeper came in.
“Well did you find the top of the mountain still there?” he asked.
“We didn’t get to the top,” Jack grinned.
“You didn’t?”
“No. You see we ran across what you might call unsurmountable
obstacles, so to speak.”
“But what—”
“I’ll tell you all about it,” Bob interrupted, and proceeded to give
him a full account of their adventures.
“Well, of all things,” Mr. Sleeper declared as he finished. “Why
didn’t you call me on that radio set?”
“Well, you see, while we were tied up we couldn’t and after we got
free and got our things back we figured that we’d better get away
without any unnecessary delay,” Bob told him.
“But you say there was no way to get out of that cave except through
the door?”
“I said we couldn’t find any. Of course there must be a way. A man
can’t just naturally evaporate, you know.”
“No, but isn’t it possible that there was some place in the cave
where he could hide?”
“It’s possible, of course, but we didn’t find any,” Bob assured him.
Just then the supper horn sounded and the boys hurried to wash up
for the meal.
“Did you ever know a fellow called Skeets?”
Supper was over and Bob and Jack had followed Jacques out into the
kitchen and it was Bob who asked the question.
“Skeets?” the breed repeated. “Heem big fellow wid long black hair
and whiskers and nose bent, eh?”
“I don’t know what he looks like.” Bob replied. “But I heard him
mentioned and just wondered if you know him.”
“Oui, me know heem. Heem one ter’ bad mans. Heem keel man two tree
year ago, but no could prove, but me know.”
“Have you seen him lately?”
“Non, no seen heem most two year. Heem ver’ bad mans. Me no want see
heem.”
“I would have liked to ask him if he knew about that cave but I
didn’t dare to.”
It was shortly after nine o’clock and the two boys were alone in
their cabin after a short sail on the lake with the Sleepers.
“You were wise not to,” Jack agreed.
“I’m glad you think so,” Bob assured him. “You see we don’t know for
sure just how he stands and until we do we’ve got to be mighty
careful. Not that I think he’s mixed up in it but, of course,
there’s a chance.”
“You going to sit up tonight?”
“Not for all the ghosts this side of—of—”
“Of where?”
“Well, I guess I don’t know,” Bob laughed. “But it’s me for the
hay.”
“Say, Bob,” Jack began a few minutes later after they had undressed,
“If I ask you a question, promise me that you won’t jump down my
throat.”
“I promise. What is it?”
“Has it ever occurred to you to wonder if the Sleepers are mixed up
in this ghost business? Careful now. You know you promised.”
Bob had started up as though greatly surprised at the question, but
he lay back again on the bed and for a moment did not answer.
“Well?”
“Just what made you ask that?”
“You answer my question first?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“It has occurred to me. Now what made you ask the question?”
“Because it occurred to me, I suppose. But you don’t think so, do
you?”
“No. Do you?”
“N-o-o-.”
“You say that rather doubtfully.”
“Well, there’s one thing about it that I can’t quite make out.”
“And that’s?”
“It’s Mrs. Sleeper not being afraid of ghosts. Why yesterday she
nearly fainted at the sight of an angle worm and she says she loves
ghosts. It doesn’t fit in somehow.”
Bob made no comment for a few minutes then he said:
“Well, it’s no use saying that the same thing hasn’t been in my
mind, for it has, but we must be very careful. The suspicion is far
from being proof or even evidence, you know. By the way I intended
to ask Jacques if any of the folks who had been seeing ghosts had
mentioned about that spot of light. You don’t think that would do
any harm, do you?”
“Don’t see why it should.”
“Well, we can ask him in the morning. Good night, sleep tight.”
“And don’t let the bugs bite,” Jack finished as he blew out the
light. Then he added: “If you see anything of that spot or any other
ghostly manifestation, let me know, will you?”
In less than five minutes both boys were fast asleep. Whether or not
the mysterious spot appeared that night they never knew for neither
awoke until the breakfast horn rang out at half past six the next
morning.
“See any ghosts?” Jack asked rubbing his eyes.
“Nary a ghost,” Bob replied as he jumped out of bed. “Come on, lazy,
make it snappy or you’ll be late to breakfast.”
“Be dressed as—I say, Bob, what’s that paper on your bed?”
Bob looked quickly around and saw, on the foot of his bed, a sheet
of paper folded once in the middle.
“Well, I’ll be jiggered,” he said a moment later, as he passed the
paper to Jack. “What do you know about that?”
Jack took it and read:
“If you know when you’re well off you’ll leave
here before night.”
There was no signature to the message which was printed in crude
letters.
“How’d it get there?” Jack asked as he stepped to the door and tried
the lock. “This door is locked.”
“Are you sure?”
“Try it yourself.”
“But you know—”
“You’re wrong. I don’t know, any more than I know how that fellow
got out of the cave,” Jack interrupted.
While he was talking Bob had been examining the window opposite the
door.
“No marks of anything here,” he announced. “This screen doesn’t seem
to have been moved.”
“Of course it hasn’t. You don’t think that ghost would be as clumsy
as all that, do you?”
“But how—”
“Tell me how he got out of the cave and I’ll tell you how that
letter got here—maybe.”
“But, Jack, this is serious.”
“You bet your life it is.”
“And I’m going to show it to Jacques and to the Sleepers and I want
you to watch them closely when I spring it on them. We may get a
clue.”
The other guests had not come in to the dining-room when they got
there and Jacques was busy at the table. Bob handed him the paper
without any word of explanation. The man looked at it, read it
several times, turned it over to look on the back and finally turned
to Bob.
“Whar you geet heem, eh?”
“It was on my bed this morning.”
“Huh! You keep heem door lock?”
“Yes the door was locked.”
Jacques scratched his head in evident perplexity.
“I dunno what tink,” he finally said. “What you do, eh? You go?”
“Not so you’d notice it,” Jack replied and as he spoke Bob fancied
that a look of relief came to the breed’s face.
“Maybe you geet hurt you stay here,” he said, but in a tone in which
Bob was sure there was only worriment.
“We’ll take a chance on that,” he said. “The fishing’s too good here
to let a thing like that scare us away.”
“And it’s probably only a joke anyway,” Jack added.
Just then the Sleepers, including Helen, entered the room and after
greeting them Bob showed them the note.
“You say you found this on your bed?” Mr. Sleeper asked after he had
examined it closely.
“Yes,” Bob replied.
“And do you lock your door at night?”
“We have been doing it since we’ve been up here and it was locked
this morning.”
“How about the windows?”
“There was no sign to indicate that anyone had crawled in,” Bob
assured him.
“But do you think it would have been possible?”
“If you’d asked me that last night I’d have said no right off, that
is without us knowing it, but that note didn’t get there without
hands.”
“That’s true, of course. But what are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing, I reckon, except to keep our eyes open. You see we’ve been
threatened before.”
“But aren’t you scared?” Helen asked anxiously.
“I never heard of a ghost hurting anyone, did you?” Jack laughed.
“But it wasn’t a ghost put that paper there,” she insisted.
“It’s rather strange that it should have been printed, don’t you
think?” Mrs. Sleeper asked.
“You mean it looks as though whoever did it was afraid they would
recognize the handwriting if it had been written?” her husband
asked.
“Well it suggests that. Printing is a common way of avoiding
recognition, you know.”
“True, but that suggests that it was done by someone whom they
know,” Mr. Sleeper declared with a questioning glance at Bob.
“I see what you mean,” he answered, “but it hardly seems possible.”
“Well, how about it, Sherlock?”
Jack asked the question as soon as they were once more alone in
their cabin.
“I don’t think Jacques knew anything about it,” Bob replied. “Do
you?”
“If he did he’s a peach of an actor. No, I think he’s innocent. But
how about the others?”
“Same verdict in my opinion.”
“Mine too. It would take a lot to make me believe that they are in
it.”
“But I thought you said you—”
“I only said it seemed funny that she isn’t afraid of ghosts. I
didn’t mean that I really suspected them,” Jack interrupted.
“Well, hurry up, there’s Helen all ready now.”
Helen and the two boys had, the night before, arranged a fishing
trip up to a cove some six miles up the lake where Jacques had told
them he had caught the largest trout he had ever taken from the
lake, and soon they were speeding through the water, Bob at the
stern of the canoe and Jack in the bow, with the girl between them.
It was a beautiful morning clear and cool and, despite the
threatening letter, they were all in high spirits.
“What kind of fly had I better use?” Helen asked when they had
reached their destination.
“I’m afraid flies wouldn’t be much good here, not at this time of
year,” Bob explained. “You see the water’s very deep here and the
fish feed near the bottom, so we brought along some shinners.”
“Then we’re going to troll?”
“Yes, it’s the only way to get the big fellows this late in the
season. In May and early June they’ll take a fly all right.”
“Mercy, are you going to hitch on all that lead?” she asked a moment
later as Bob took some heavy sinkers from his pocket.
“Have to keep your hook down near the bottom, in fifty feet of
water,” he explained.
Quickly the lines were made ready and soon Bob was using his paddle
just enough to keep the canoe barely moving, while he held his rod
between his legs.
“Let out about a hundred feet of line,” he told her.
“Do they bite very hard?” she asked.
“Not very. You see a laker is not much of a fighter. A three or
four-pound square tail will put up more of a fight than a
twelve-pound laker. You can usually pull the latter in without
playing him at all. But you’re apt to get hold of a salmon and then
look out. They’re gamey enough.”
He had just finished speaking when the girl’s rod bent sharply.
“I’ve got one,” she cried.
Bob stopped paddling. “Reel him in if he doesn’t pull too hard,” he
ordered.
“I guess he’s only a little one,” she declared a moment later after
she had recovered about half of her line.
“You never can tell,” Bob cautioned as he picked up the landing net.
“Be on your guard for a rush though I hardly think he’ll make one.”
“He’s pulling harder now,” she said and he could see that she was
having about all she could do to turn the handle of the reel.
Foot by foot the line came in and finally Bob declared that he could
see the fish.
“Steady now,” he cautioned. “Just a little more and I’ll have him.”
Followed a swift thrust of the net and the fish was flopping in the
canoe.
“Gracious, he isn’t so small after all,” Helen cried.
“About eight pounds and two and a half feet long,” Bob said as he
hit the fish on the head with a small stick putting an end to its
struggles.
“You were right when you said they weren’t fighters. Why I’ve had
more trouble landing trout not a third as large.”
“But he’ll make up for it when you eat him,” Jack laughed.
Bob started the canoe forward again as soon as he had put a fresh
shinner on Helen’s hook. They had gone only a few yards when Jack
announced that he had a strike and as Bob glanced back he saw a
streak of silver break through the surface of the lake, rise fully a
foot above the water and fall back with a loud splash which could be
plainly heard.
“You’ve got a salmon and a big one, boy,” he shouted. “Play him easy
or you’ll lose him.”
Jack was reeling in as fast as his multiplying reel would permit but
before he had the fish half way to the canoe a sudden rush jerked
the handle of the reel out of his fingers and before he could apply
the drag nearly all his line had disappeared.
“Back her up,” he shouted to Bob, pressing the drag as hard as he
dared. “This line’ll never hold that whale.”
Bob was quick to grasp the situation and just as the last few layers
of line were leaving the reel, the canoe began to move in the
direction the fish had taken. This relieved the strain so that Jack
was able to recover a few precious yards before a new rush in the
opposite direction nearly jerked the rod from his hands.
“T’other way quick,” he cried.
Again Bob was able to get the canoe in motion in time to save the
last few feet of line, but the manoeuver had to be repeated, with
many variations, several times before the big fish was finally
conquered. But after nearly an hour of battle he succeeded in
bringing the exhausted fish within reach of the landing net and in
another moment it was safe in the canoe.
“My, what a fish!” Helen gasped. “How much will it weigh? About a
hundred pounds?”
“Not quite, I’m afraid,” Bob laughed. “Knock off about eight-five
and you’ll be pretty near it.”
“It’s your turn now,” Jack declared as the canoe began to move
again. “Better let me play engine for a while so you can—what was
that?”
“What was what?”
“Didn’t you hear that twang?”
“No, I didn’t hear anything. You—”
But at that moment a slight splash a few feet to the right of the
canoe caused him to turn his head. There, floating lightly on the
water, was an arrow. For an instant the two boys looked at each
other.
“What do you know about that,” Bob gasped.
“I told you I heard a bow string twang.”
“But this is Maine and in the twentieth century.”
“Look,” Helen suddenly cried, “There’s a piece of birch bark
fastened to it.”
Another moment and Jack was removing the bark which had been tightly
bound to the shaft just above the feathered end. Carefully he
smoothed it out and bent his head to examine it. Scratched on its
surface, evidently with some sharp instrument, were two words:
“second warning.”
He handed the piece of bark to Bob without a word.
“May I see it?” Helen asked after Bob read it.
He handed her the bark saying: “Looks as though someone was trying
to scare us.”
“Of course the one who put that note on your bed is responsible for
this as well,” she declared after a moment’s thought.
“I guess there’s not much doubt about that,” Bob agreed and Jack
nodded his head.
“What are you going to do about it?” she asked.
“Nothing, except that I think we’d better get back to camp as soon
as we can,” Bob replied with a wink at Jack which he evidently
understood for he seconded the motion at once.
“But what’s the hurry?” Helen asked.
“Well, you see,” Bob explained, “whoever shot that arrow might take
it into his head to shoot at us and he evidently’s a pretty good
shot even with a bow and arrow.” He was aware that the explanation
was pretty weak but it was the best he could think of on the spur of
the moment. Helen looked rather puzzled but offered no objection as
they began to reel in their lines.
If she was surprised at the speed with which they sent the light
canoe through the water on the way back she said nothing about it,
except to caution them a couple of times to be careful or the
friction of the water might set the craft on fire. As they rounded a
point of land which stretched far out into the lake, and came in
sight of the little wharf in front of the camp both boys breathed a
silent sigh of relief as they saw the two Sleepers together with
Jacques just putting out in the motor boat.
Helen shouted and waved her hand at them and Jacques shut off the
engine which he had just started.
“You’re back earlier than we expected,” Mrs. Sleeper said as the
canoe drew up alongside. “We were just going up to see how you were
making out.”
“Oh, we made out all right,” Helen told her, holding up the salmon
by its gills. “How do you like this fellow?”
“Mercy, is it a whale?” her mother asked.
“Not quite,” Helen laughed.
“Did you catch it?”
“No, but I caught this baby,” and she held up the trout for their
inspection. “Jack got the big fellow.”
“I didn’t know they grew that large in the lakes of Maine,” Mr.
Sleeper said as he reached over and picked up the salmon. “This
fellow must weigh all of twenty pounds.”
“Heem weigh fourteen, mebby fifteen pound. Bon feesh but some bigger
in here,” Jacques told him.
“Well, I’m not going to be cheated out of my sail,” Mrs. Sleeper
declared. “It’s not quite eleven yet and we’ll have time for a short
one before Jacques has to start dinner. Anyhow, if it’s late it’ll
be all right as we’re the only ones to please. Come on Helen and you
too, boys.”
The boys were anxious to be alone in order to compare notes, but
they could not well refuse the invitation so they accepted with no
show of hesitation. They were gone for an hour and it was but a
little past noon when they were back in their own cabin.
“Well, I reckon that lets ’em all out, eh?” Jack asked as soon as he
had closed the door.
“So far as that arrow is concerned, yes,” Bob agreed. “Whoever shot
it couldn’t have got back here in the time we made, unless he had an
airship or something of the sort. No, there’s somebody else, but
whether or not any of them are mixed up in it is another question.”
“And one which we ought to be answering before long. We know just
about as much about the matter as we did before we came up here.”
“And not much more. That’s a fact, but I hardly see how we could
have done any more than we have. I tell you, son, whoever’s at the
bottom of this game is deep, mighty deep.”
They talked until the dinner horn rang through the forest and
decided on a course of action which they hoped would be productive
of results.
“Did you save that piece of bark?”
They had joined the Sleepers in the big diningroom and it was Mr.
Sleeper who asked the question. “Helen has told us about it,” he
added as Bob reached in his pocket and drew it out.
He examined it carefully and then passed it to his wife.
“Do you think it is from the same party?” she asked, then, turning
to the boys, she added: “Mr. Sleeper is quite an expert on
hand-writing.”
“I don’t think there’s any doubt about it,” he said at once adding:
“Of course, it would be impossible to say that both were printed by
the same person so far as the printing itself is concerned since one
is on paper and the other on birch bark, but it’s hardly likely that
there are two parties up here in the woods trying to scare the
boys.”
“I think you’re right, sir,” Bob agreed.