THE HUNT FOR HELEN.
It was nearly nine o’clock when they returned from a long sail on
the lake and, declining an invitation to sit on the porch of the
Sleeper’s cabin on the ground that they might miss something if they
stayed away from their cabin any longer, the boys bade them good
night and turned off toward their quarters.
“Give a yell if anything happens,” Mr. Sleeper called when they were
about half way to the door. “I’m going to sit up, you know, and if
there are any demonstrations I should like to be present.”
“Do you know, Jack,” Bob began a little later, looking up from the
book he was reading, “I can’t for the life of me understand how it
is that nothing has been seen or heard in the other cabin.”
“Are you sure there hasn’t?”
“Of course we’ve only their word for it.”
“Of course.”
“But why should they lie about it?”
“I haven’t said they had lied.”
“But you implied it.”
“Maybe.”
“Look here, son, do you suspect that they know anything about it?”
“Who was that detective that used to say ‘suspect everyone and
everything’? No, frankly I don’t. We came here first and the ghost
was busy long before that so how could they be mixed up in it?”
“Of course that’s a point in their favor, but after all it doesn’t
prove anything. One or all of them, for that matter might have been
around here somewhere without actually stopping at the camp.”
“That’s true too. But really you know we have no real reason to
suspect them. They certainly are refined people and why should they
be up here for any such purpose as that? If it wasn’t for two or
three litle things, about which we have spoken, I’d never have given
a thought to them in that connection.”
“I know what you mean and I feel the same way.”
“One thing is pretty sure and that is that if they are mixed up in
it they are not the ones who are actually doing it. They couldn’t
have shot that arrow the other day you know.”
“And that’s another point in their favor.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to return a verdict of not—What was that?”
A loud thud on the door interrupted him and, even as he asked the
question, Jack was on his way toward the door. It was dark outside
as there was no moon but the light of the lamp shone out and enabled
him to see for a distance of several feet. There was no one in sight
and, after a hasty glance around, he was about to turn back when his
eye caught sight of an arrow deeply imbedded in the pine door. It
took a strong pull to draw it out, but in a moment he had it inside
and was showing it to Bob who, instead of following him to the door
had hastened to the window beneath which he had set the trap.
“Another warning, I suppose,” he said with a slight grin as he
pointed to a bit of paper which was tied with a bit of string about
the middle of the arrow.
Jack had it off in a jiffy and together they bent over it. There
were but two words printed in large letters, “Last warning.”
“The plot thickens,” Bob whispered and Jack was sure that he
detected a note of uneasiness in his brother’s voice.
“Three strikes and out, eh?”
“Not out,” Bob snapped. “In the words of the immortal Perry, ‘We’ve
only just begun to fight’.”
“If only we could get hold of something to fight. Ghosts are mighty
elusive things, I’ll tell the world,” Jack declared.
“But, judging from that note, we’re about due to find something,”
Bob reminded him.
“How about calling Mr. Sleeper?”
“Not yet. Let’s wait and see if anything more happens. We can show
him the arrow and note just as well in the morning.”
For an hour they sat, one on each side of the table, and read
without speaking. Then, just as the clock, over in the dining cabin,
struck eleven Jack closed his book.
“Time to put out the light,” he said.
Bob also closed this book and turned the light so low that
practically no light came from it.
“If we hear anything,” he said, “I’m going to hide right below that
window sill and if you see that thing I want you to give a low
whistle. Somehow or other I have a hunch that he or it’ll be too
sharp to walk into that trap and I’m going to make a grab for it.”
He had hardly finished when the spot of light appeared on the wall
and he at once did as he had said. The window sill was only about
two feet from the floor and his position, as he crouched there,
ready to spring was anything but comfortable. He was obliged to move
slightly from time to time to keep his muscles from cramping, but he
was careful to make no noise.
For what seemed a long time but was in reality only a few minutes he
waited and then the signal came. Instantly he jerked himself up and,
without waiting for even a glance, thrust both hands through the
cotton mosquito netting. They closed on something hard and, with a
quick yank, he pulled it in through the window.
“Turn up the light, Jack,” he shouted.
Jack quickly obeyed the order and, as the light flooded the room the
two boys gazed at the object which Bob held in his hands. For a
moment neither spoke then Jack gave vent to low chuckle.
“Some ghost,” he laughed.
It was little wonder that the boy laughed for the object which Bob
was holding in his hands was a pumpkin painted white and mounted on
the end of a broom handle. Grotesque features had been cut through
the rind and the inside had been hollowed out and a candle fitted to
the end of the pole. A white sheet was draped on the lower part of
the pumpkin and flowed down nearly to the lower end of the pole.
“Did anybody have hold of it?” Jack asked.
“Must have. It took a good yank to get it away.”
“But did you hear anything?”
“Narry a sound.”
“Where do you suppose they got hold of a pumpkin at this time of
year? Must be a last year’s one.”
“Of course.”
“Well, what—”
But the question was left unfinished for at that instant a loud
shriek rang out through the night. For an instant the two boys
looked at each other without speaking, then they heard Mr. Sleeper
calling.
“Bob, Jack. Here quick!”
They rushed out of the cabin together and met Mr. Sleeper half way
between the two buildings.
“Did you hear that yell?” he gasped.
“Of course. What was it?” Bob said quickly.
“I—I’m not sure but I’m afraid it was Helen.”
“Helen!”
Both boys uttered the name at the same time.
“It sounded like her voice and she’s gone.”
“Gone? Where?”
“I—I wish I knew. You see, she stepped out on the porch just a
minute ago and then I heard that yell. I rushed out as quickly as I
could but she wasn’t there.”
Just then Jacques joined them.
“What dat yell?” he demanded.
“That’s what we all want to know,” Bob told him. “Mr. Sleeper thinks
it was Helen.”
“Where ees she?”
“She’s gone,” Mr. Sleeper groaned just as a voice called from the
cabin.
“Where’s Helen?”
Mrs. Sleeper appeared, coming down the path, a bath robe thrown
hastily about her. Her husband caught her in his arms and hastily
explained what had happened, trying to make as light of it as
possible. But she was not deceived and sobbed heavily as he led her
back to the cabin, the others following.
“What can we do?” Mr. Sleeper asked a moment later.
“Go after them, of course,” Jack said eagerly.
“They can’t be far away and if Mrs. Sleeper isn’t afraid to stay
here alone I suggest that you and Jacques go one way while Jack and
I go another,” Bob suggested.
“Go by all means.” Mrs. Sleeper sobbed. “And don’t come back without
her. I couldn’t bear that.”
“I’ll get our flashes,” Jack said.
He was back almost immediately and Mr. Sleeper brought out two flash
lights handing one to Jacques.
“We’ll go down the lake while you go up,” Bob proposed. “But we
don’t want to overlook anything. Look for a trail and if you find it
give a yell and we’ll do the same.”
“Probably her father couldn’t follow an elephant track, but Jacques
ought to be able to recognize a trail if he finds one,” Bob said as
soon as they were out of hearing of the others.
“It’s like hunting for a needle in a hay stack in this darkness, but
take it from me, we’re going to find that girl,” Jack declared.
“You said it, son,” Bob replied grimly.
Putting into use every bit of the training they had received from
long years spent in the woods they made their way, as rapidly as
they deemed prudent, through the black forest.
“Perhaps they took her in a canoe,” Jack suggested.
“Maybe, but if they did it would be useless to try to follow them on
the lake in the night. Water leaves no trail, you know. No. I’ve a
hunch that they didn’t have a boat and that they went this way.”
“Well, I hope your hunch is right,” Jack declared as he stubbed his
toe on a root and fell headlong.
For an hour they pushed on. They were not going in a straight line,
but were zig-zagging in the hope that they would cross the trail of
the man or men who had stolen the girl, but, as time passed and they
found not the slightest clue, a feeling of discouragement took
possession of them.
“I’m afraid it’s no use,” Bob panted as he stopped to rest. “Either
they didn’t come this way or else they were clever enough not to
leave a trail.”
“I think your first guess is right,” Jack declared. “I don’t see how
anyone could get through this thick woods in the dark without
leaving some sign.”
“Shall we turn back?”
“After what she said?”
“I know, but—”
“No buts about it. Let’s keep at it. It’s the only thing to do.”
“All right, come on.”
They had gone but a few feet when Jack’s keen eyes caught sight of
something white caught on an old stump. With a low cry he snatched
it up and held it out to Bob.
“It’s hers,” he declared.
“Are you sure?” Bob asked looking closely at the small handkerchief.
“Of course I am. Look at that S in the corner.”
“I guess there’s no doubt about it. Now let’s see if we can’t find
the trail.”
For some minutes, by the light of the flashes, they searched. A
broken twig, a single imprint of a foot or an abrasion of the bark
of a tree would be enough to give them the direction. And finally, a
few feet away from the place where he had found the handkerchief,
Jack hit it.
“Here we are, Bob,” he cried, “see that broken twig?”
It is one thing to find a hidden trail in the dense woods when one
does not know where to look, but it is not nearly so difficult for
one versed in the art to follow the trail once it is located. From
now on they had little trouble in keeping on the scent.
“We promised to yell if we found it,” Jack reminded Bob a moment
later.
“I know, but it would be the wrong thing to do now. In the first
place they wouldn’t hear us and then we may be nearer the villains
than we think.”
So they pushed on, now making fairly rapid headway and then having
to hunt for some time before being sure which way the trail led.
“I’ve lost all sense of direction,” Jack said, after they had
searched for several minutes, about a half hour after striking the
trail, “but it doesn’t seem to me that we’re heading for Mount
Katahdin. How about it?”
“I haven’t been paying much attention to that myself, but I think
we’re a long way off the mountain trail. Unless I’m mistaken we’ve
been heading toward Millinockett Lake for some time.”
“But what do you suppose—Hark, did you hear that?”
“No, I heard nothing.”
“Well, I did. Listen.”
Both boys strained their ears and a moment later a faint but
unmistakable sound was heard.
“It’s a girl crying,” Jack declared.
“And only a little way ahead of us,” Bob added. “Come on but be
careful, it may be a trap.”
They had been using their flash lights freely as it was necessary in
order to make any kind of time through the dense forest, but now
they groped their way between the trees in the pitch darkness
fearing to show a light. That they were pitted against a ruthless
and keen enemy they did not doubt and they had no intention of
playing into his hands if they could avoid it. As they advanced the
sobbing became more clearly audible and they knew that they were
going in the right direction. That it was Helen they had little
doubt and both longed to call out that they were coming, but
prudence forebade it.
Not a sound did they make as they crept closer to the girl, testing
every step before making the advance. It was so dark that they were
unable to see even a foot ahead and they were obliged to keep hold
of hands to avoid being separated. As soon as the sound of the
sobbing assured them that they were within a few feet of the girl
they stopped and, for several moments, listened intently.
Not a breath of air stirred the branches overhead and a death-like
stillness pervaded the forest, broken only by the low sobs of the
girl.
“If there’s anyone with her they’re keeping mighty still,” Bob
whispered placing his mouth close to Jack’s ear.
“I don’t believe there’s anyone there but her.”
“Nor do I but we must be sure. You wait here a minute and I’ll get a
bit closer.”
Jack was going to protest, but Bob crept off before he had time to
say a word and there was nothing for him to do but wait. He knew his
brother’s ability to take care of himself but, as he afterward
confessed, his heart was in his mouth.
Noiselessly as a shadow Bob crept on his hands and knees foot by
foot decreasing the distance between himself and the girl. Not a
twig rustled nor did a stick move beneath him as he advanced. At
last he knew that he could reach out his hand and touch her as he
could plainly hear her deep breathing between the sobs which had now
nearly ceased.
“Helen,” he whispered.
A slight movement told him that she had heard him, but she made no
reply.
“Helen, it’s Bob,” he whispered again.
“Bob!”
The reply was low but the tone indicated her joy.
“Is anyone here with you?”
“I—I don’t know, but I don’t think so.”
“Take hold of my hand and try not to make a sound,” he whispered as
he reached out his hand in the darkness.
As he found her hand he backed slowly away drawing her after him. No
doubt she made as little noise as possible, but she was totally
unskilled in the art of moving noiselessly through the darkness and
to Bob it seemed as though she made noise enough to be heard a mile.
But nothing happened and foot by foot they won their way back to
where Jack was waiting.
Of course the latter knew that they were coming as he knew that Bob
alone would not make the noise he could plainly hear.
“Come on, Jack, let’s beat it,” Bob said as soon as he was near
enough to whisper.
For perhaps fifteen minutes they crept through the woods the boys
noiselessly and the girl making no more than she could help.
“Now I reckon we can stop a bit,” Bob said after he knew that they
had covered several rods. “Now, Helen, suppose you tell us about
it.”
“But don’t speak above a whisper,” Jack cautioned her.
“I came out on the porch and someone grabbed me,” she began. “I gave
a yell and then a hand was pressed over my mouth and I couldn’t make
a sound. Then he picked me up and ran and—and I guess that’s about
all,” she finished.
“Did he carry you all this way?” Bob asked.
“Every step. He must be a giant for he handled me as if I weighed
about ten pounds.
“And there was only the one?”
“That’s all.”
“But what became of him?” Jack asked.
“Well, a little while ago we saw a light through the trees. I guess
it must have been your light, and he began to hurry faster. I didn’t
dare make a sound because he had told me that he would kill me if I
did. Then he fell and I guess he must have hurt his ankle because he
swore fearfully. He picked me up again and started off but he limped
a good deal, and—and pretty soon he threw me down and, without
saying a word, started off alone. That’s all I know. But, tell me,
how did you find me?”
“I—I guess God must have led us to you,” Bob said slowly. “I don’t
know how else we picked up the trail.”
“He must have. I knew that you’d try and I asked Him to show you the
way.”
“I guess we’ve been quiet all for nothing,” Jack said aloud.
“Maybe. But it’s better to be careful than sorry, you know,” Bob
told him.
“How far are we from the cabin?” Helen asked.
“Pretty hard to say,” Bob replied, “But it must be all of five
miles, maybe more.”
“Where’s father?”
“He and Jacques went the other way,” Jack told her. “You see, we had
no way of knowing which way you had gone so we divided forces.”
“Can you find the way back?”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Bob answered.
“Then—then you think we’re lost?”
“Don’t you fret about that,” Jack hastened to reassure her. “We can
find the way all right as soon as it gets light.” He meant that he
might not be able to do it in the dark.
“Oh.” It was evident that she was much relieved.
“It’ll be light in about three hours,” Bob told them. “Now, had we
better camp here or try to find it in the dark?”
“I’m lost,” Jack confessed. “Haven’t the least idea which way home
is. How about you?”
“Well, it’s pretty hard to get much idea of direction when you can’t
see your hand before your face, but I believe we can follow our
trail back provided we can pick it up.”
“I didn’t think of that.”
“You and Helen wait here and I’ll look about a bit and see if I can
find it,” and before either could say a word he was gone.
Bob was back in less than ten minutes with the cheering news that he
had found the trail and that it was only a little way off.
“We’ll take it easy and be sure and not lose it,” he said as he took
hold of Helen’s hand and led the way, Jack bringing up the rear
clinging fast to her other hand.
“Here’s where we found your handkerchief,” Bob told her an hour
later as he came to a halt and flashed his light on the stump.
“Yes, I managed to get it out and drop it without him knowing it in
hopes you might find it.”
“It’s mighty lucky you did,” Bob said. “I’m afraid we would never
have picked up your trail if you hadn’t. That fellow must be an
artist in going through the woods without leaving a mark.”
“He did seem to be pretty careful. He had a flashlight and kept it
on all the time until he saw yours. Then he snapped it off and I
guess that’s why he fell.”
“It’s funny we didn’t see his light,” Jack said to Bob.
“It does seem rather strange,” he agreed.
They rested a few minutes longer and then started off again. They
had little trouble in following the back trail as they had made no
effort at concealment and signs of their passing were plenty.
Dawn was just breaking in the east as they reached the camp. Helen
gave a loud call as they emerged from the woods and almost instantly
her mother was flying down the path to meet her.
“My darling child,” she sobbed as she gathered the girl in her arms.
Helen quickly told the story and Mrs. Sleeper was most generous in
her praise of the two boys.
“Where’s dad?” Helen asked as they reached the porch.
“He hasn’t come back yet.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Helen declared. “He must be worried half to
death out there in the woods.”
“I suppose so,” her mother sighed. “But he’s got Jacques with him
and they’ll probably be back before long. But I’ve had enough of
ghosts at last,” she declared turning to Bob. “I never thought I
could be so frightened.”
“What was it?” he asked eagerly.
“I’m sure I don’t know. It began about an hour after you left. First
I heard a noise over toward your cabin and came out on the porch to
see if I could see what it was. Your place was all lit up and,
through the windows, I could see something all white moving about
and every minute or two there would be a noise as though someone was
pounding on a tin wash dish. Then off to the right, in the woods
there, a bright light would flare up and then die down, and once I
saw a white thing run, or rather float, along the path between your
cabin and the dining-hall. It looked about ten feet tall but I don’t
suppose it was. Anyway, when it got to the door, it seemed to pass
right through it without bothering to open it. And then—”
“Yes?” Bob encouraged as she paused.
“Then after a few minutes it came out again and floated back to your
cabin and the noises began again.”
“Poor mother. It’s a wonder you didn’t die of fright,” Helen
declared.
“Well, I didn’t, but I was scared.”
“And no wonder,” Jack said.
“How long did it keep up?” Bob asked.
“It must have been all of three hours.”
“Was there anything else?”
“I—I don’t think so. After I saw the thing go back into your cabin I
went inside and locked the door, but I could still hear the noise.”
“Just imagine it,” Helen sighed.
At that moment a loud whistle was heard and almost immediately Mr.
Sleeper and Jacques emerged from the forest. The former came slowly
toward the cabin dragging one foot after the other, his head bent on
his chest as though he feared to meet his wife and tell her that
they had failed. But his entire aspect changed as he heard Helen’s
cry of welcome and assurance.
“Thank God!” he cried as he hugged her to his heart.
The story, of course, had to be told all over again and at it’s
conclusion Jacques said:
“Me have breakfus een two tree minutes.”
The boys, saying that they would go and wash up, turned toward their
cabin and the others went inside. It must be confessed that Bob
threw open the door of the cabin with a distinct feeling of fear in
his heart. Was the mid-night prowler concealed there ready to jump
out at them? That was the question he had been asking himself for
the past few minutes. But there was no sign of fear in his action as
he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Though they had said
nothing on the way over from the other cabin they both more than
half expected to find the place in a condition of chaos. But
everything was exactly as they had left it. Not a single sign of
anyone having been there could they find although they made a most
thorough search.
“All quiet along the Potomac,” Bob grinned as he straightened up
after looking under his bed.
“Seems that way.”
“That ghost must have been a very orderly sort,” Bob remarked drily.
“Just what I was thinking,” Jack agreed.
For a moment they stood and looked at each other.
“Out with it,” Jack finally said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you are thinking that she was lying.”
“But why should she?” Bob asked not denying the accusation.
“Ask me something easy,” Jack retorted.
“Confound it, just as we make up our minds that they know nothing at
all about it, something happens to throw suspicion on them.”
“My sentiments to a dot.”
“But that job tonight wasn’t a part of their game, that is, if they
are mixed up in it.” Bob insisted. “They may be good actors for all
I know but that wasn’t faked. Not one little bit.”
“Again I agree with you. But, tell me this: just what makes you
think she was not telling the truth? It would be possible for
someone to come in here and prance around without disturbing things,
you know. There isn’t so much to get out of place.”
“It isn’t that so much,” Bob said slowly. “But just think, now. We
find her all worked up over something she saw and heard in this
cabin. She’s deeply grateful to us for finding Helen and yet, she
lets us come over here and come in without a word. Now wouldn’t you
have thought that she would have insisted on having Jacques and her
husband come with us?”
“Of course I’d thought of that too, but perhaps in the excitement,
she didn’t think of it.”
“Maybe that’s it but all the same I’m more inclined to think that
they know something, than I’ve been at any time before.”
“It seems to be a mystery within a mystery all right,” Jack
declared.
“Another thing that worries me is about those traps. How could a
body get up to that window and hold up that thing as he did without
stepping on that trap unless he knew it was there? Of course, it
would be easy enough if he did know it but if he didn’t I can’t
understand it.”
“And they and Jacques are the only ones except ourselves who do know
about them.”
“Exactly.”
“But you mustn’t overlook the possibility that whoever it is that’s
cutting up these didos might have been watching when we set them.”
“That’s true too, but I don’t believe it.”
“Neither do I, but it’s not impossible.”
“Well, there’s but one thing to do,” Bob declared after a long
pause.
“What’s that?”
“Go and get Sicum.”
“Just the thing,” Jack cried slapping Bob on the back. “Why didn’t
we think of it before?”
“I did, but to tell the truth, I kinder hated to give up beat.”
“Beat nothing. That’ll be simply bringing up reinforcements,” Jack
laughed.
Before they could discuss the new plan further the breakfast horn
sounded and they hastened to the dining-room. During the meal, Bob,
much to Jack’s surprise, told the Sleepers of their intention to go
for the dog, Sicum, which, he explained, belonged to their old
Indian friend, Kernertok.
“Sicum’s a wonderful dog,” he told them.
“But what will you do with him here?” Mr. Sleeper asked.
“Track down that ghost,” Bob said. “He may not leave any tracks
which we can follow, but I’ll bet Sicum can pick them up all right.”
“If he can’t nothing can,” Jack added.