THE END OF THE GHOST.
“I suppose we might as well go to bed.”
It was shortly after eleven o’clock and Jack turned down the light
as he made the statement.
“We’ll wait till twelve,” Bob yawned.
The minutes passed slowly. They were all, with the possible
exception of Kernertok and Sicum, tired after their long tramp and
both Bob and Jack were nearly asleep in their chairs, when the half
hour struck. But a moment after they were wide awake enough, for the
spot had appeared on the wall. At the same time raps were heard from
behind the head of Bob’s bed.
“Come on,” Bob cried as he leaped from his chair.
Kernertok already had snapped a long leash to Sicum’s collar and was
the first out of the cabin.
“Go find um,” he ordered.
There was no sign of the spot on the wall as Bob, the last to leave
the room, turned his head for a glance back.
The dog, as though understanding exactly what was expected of him,
put his nose to the ground and made a complete circle of the cabin.
This he repeated again and again, each time widening the circle
until he was at the edge of the woods. But he had failed to pick up
the scent and announced the failure by a low whine.
“Try um in woods,” his master ordered.
The dog led the way about thirty feet into the forest and then
started off to the right. He had gone but a few yards, however, when
he uttered a low deep growl.
“He got um,” the Indian grunted. “Go get um, Sicum.”
With a sharp bark of eagerness the dog bounded off in the direction
of the hill only a few rods distant and Kernertok had his hands full
holding on to the leash. The boys followed close behind using their
flash light freely.
Straight up over the hill the dog led them without a pause and down
the other side. A little way from the foot of the hill they struck a
small brook and the dog stopped with a whine.
“He take to water,” Kernertok explained. “No smell um.”
They crossed to the other side and Kernertok ordered the dog to go
up stream. They pressed on for the better part of a half mile but
Sicum failed to again pick up the trail.
“Maybe he went down stream,” Bob suggested as they stopped for a
short rest.
“We go back, try um down brook?”
“Do whatever you think best.”
“We try um little more,” the Indian decided after a short pause.
It was fortunate that he did so for in less than five minutes the
dog had regained the scent.
“Good dog,” Bob declared as the low growl announced his success.
Through the thick woods the dog led them, tugging at the leash as
though fearful that his quarry would escape him. At times the way
led through thickets where they had to literally force their way
while, in other places it was more open and they were enabled to
make good progress.
“Hope he gets there soon,” Jack panted.
“Same here,” Bob agreed. “My legs are beginning to get tired.”
It must have been nearly two hours from the time they started and
Bob judged that they had covered fully five miles when they reached
the end of the hunt. Sicum stopped in front of what looked like a
huge rock but the light from the flash showed that it was a small
hill. The dog was sniffing at an opening, in the side of the hill,
which looked to be barely large enough for a man to crawl into.
“He’s got a cave in that hill,” Bob announced.
“Looks like it,” Jack agreed.
“Him there,” Kernertok grunted.
“Then the next thing’s to get him out,” Jack proposed.
“Suppose you invite him,” Bob suggested.
“I will. Hello, in there. You might as well come out. We’ve got you
trapped,” he shouted.
There was no reply and, after waiting a moment Bob said:
“He or it doesn’t seem much inclined to accept your invitation.
Guess I’ll have to go in after him.”
“Yes you will, not.”
“If not why not?”
“Because it’s too risky, that’s why.”
“Injun go in,” Kernertok grunted getting down on his hands and
knees.
“Nothing doing,” Bob declared sharply catching him by the shoulder.
They had been speaking in whispers but now Bob said in a loud voice:
“Let’s go back and come and dig him out in the morning when we can
see.”
“I guess that’ll be the best way,” Jack agreed quick to grasp his
brother’s plan.
In a low whisper Bob explained his idea to the Indian who grunted a
low assent. But Sicum did not so readily fall in with the plan and
it took the Indian some time to convince him that he knew what was
best. The dog knew that his quarry was in that hole and he could not
understand why he should leave it. But finally he allowed his master
to lead him off into the woods but not without many a backward look
and many a low protesting whine. It was a new experience to him,
this giving up and it was plain that he did not approve of it.
“Never mind, old fellow, we’ll get him,” Bob said stroking the gray
head.
They made much noise as they left but, after going only a short
distance they crept softly back until they were only a few feet away
from the hole, where they crouched behind a thick clump of bushes.
Sicum, as though realizing that, after all, the game was not up, had
ceased his whining and seemed content.
“We’ll probably have to wait till day light,” Bob whispered, “so
I’ll watch here and you can get back a bit and get some sleep.”
“What’s the matter with you getting some sleep?” Jack asked.
“I spoke first.”
“Injun watch. Him no sleepy. White boys go get sleep.”
They refused at first but finally, seeing that the old Indian really
wished them to consent, they yielded, but only after he had promised
to call them in two hours.
They crept back a few yards and found a soft spot beneath the limbs
of a huge pine and in less than a minute both were fast asleep. It
seemed to Bob that he had just closed his eyes when he was awakened
by a touch on his arm.
“Two hours gone,” Kernertok whispered.
“All right,” he answered sleepily, “but don’t wake Jack. There’s no
need of both of us being awake.”
Kernertok grunted approval and threw himself on the ground while Bob
crept forward until he was lying behind the bush. It was not
absolutely dark for the sky was filled with stars although there was
no moon. He could barely make out the outline of the hill as he
peered through the bush. Slowly the minutes passed and he found it
hard work to keep awake. But he knew that it would be only a little
more than an hour to dawn and he resolutely fought off the desire to
sleep. Once he thought he heard a movement near the cave but,
although he strained his eyes, he could see nothing suspicious and
he concluded that he had been mistaken. Of course he did not dare to
use his flash light.
In spite of his resolve to keep awake he must have dozed off for
suddenly he realized that the darkness had nearly gone.
“I’m a good one to put on watch,” he thought thoroughly angered at
himself.
Although it was not yet fully light he could see the hole in the
hill plainly enough and, all desire for sleep now gone, he watched
eagerly.
“If he’s got away I’ll never forgive myself,” he thought.
Slowly the light increased until a beam of sunlight touched the top
of the hill. He was about to creep back and awake the others when a
sound caught his ears and, in another moment, he saw a face framed
in the hole. It was not a wicked face but rather grotesque. The nose
was long and humped sharply while the eyes were small and set so
closely together that the nose seemed crowded between them. The
mouth was enormous and the skin looked more like leather than skin.
Although the eyes were small they looked strangely keen and he drew
back fearing that they would penetrate his hiding place. After a
long glance around the owner of the eyes slowly drew his body out
and finally stood in front of the opening. He was a small man,
almost a dwarf in fact and Bob could hardly repress a desire to
laugh. His arms, abnormally long, hung well below his knees and his
legs were so thin that it seemed impossible that they were strong
enough to support the body. But what impressed the boy most of all
were the massive shoulders, all out of proportion to the rest of his
body. He was dressed in an old black sweater torn in many places and
a pair of corduroy trousers which reached only to the knees. His
feet were bare.
“What a wild man of Borneo he’d make,” Bob thought. “But I’d sure
hate to tackle him. I’ll bet he’s stronger than an ox.”
For several minutes the strange creature stood looking about and
then, to the consternation of the boy, he darted directly toward
him. So sudden was the movement that before Bob had time to even
rise the creature was upon him. He tried to defend himself but he
quickly realized that his estimate of his strength was far too low.
Those arms, though ridiculously thin, were like hands of steel and
one of them wrapped around him held him helpless while the other
hand sought his throat. But before the long fingers could close
about it he had let out a wild shout for help.
Fortunately for him help was close at hand. The huge hand had closed
on his wind pipe and everything was beginning to go black when, with
a loud shout of encouragement, Jack landed fairly on the diminutive
monster’s back and forced him to break his hold. But so great was
the strength of the dwarf that it is doubtful if they could have
overcome him without Kernertok’s help for he fought with a fury such
as they had never encountered. Those long arms seemed absolutely
tireless and their strength almost superhuman, and for a time he
threw them about as though they were children. But at last the
exertion began to tell on him and suddenly, as though realizing that
his was a losing fight, he sank down on the ground and, burying his
face in his hands, began to whimper for all the world like a whipped
dog.
Even Kernertok was panting as the battle ended and both boys were
gasping for breath. Bob had two long scratches on one cheek and one
of Jack’s eyes was rapidly closing, while their clothes were torn in
many places.
“Whew!” Jack gasped holding one hand over his swollen eye. “What is
it, a man or a cyclone?”
“Anyhow, he’s some scrapper,” Bob panted.
“Him heap big little fighter,” Kernertok added.
“You said something,” Jack agreed.
The dwarf was still whining and now Bob went close to him and spoke
kindly.
“We are not going to hurt you if you behave yourself.”
At the sound of his voice the dwarf glanced timidly up at him.
“Me crazy Dan: me no hurt nobody,” he whined.
“What would have happened to us if he had been in an angry mood?”
Jack grinned as he heard the words.
“All right, Dan, suppose you stop whining and we’ll talk it over,”
Bob said as he took hold of the dwarf’s shoulder and pulled him up
to a sitting position. “There that’s better.”
“Who you?” the man asked.
“We’ll be your friends if you’ll let us.”
“Crazy Dan no got friend.”
“Then it’s time you had some,” Bob assured him kindly.
“What for you hunt after old Dan, eh?”
“Well, you see, it’s like this,” Bob began. “There’s been a lot of
things happening over at the camp and we’ve been trying to find out
who was at the bottom of it. You understand?”
“Me know. Me did it.”
“But why? What did you want to scare away all the people who came
there for?”
For a moment the dwarf hesitated.
“They catch all the fish out the lake. Be no more left for Dan,” he
said finally.
“That’s all bosh,” Jack broke in but Bob hushed him.
“But don’t you know that they breed faster than they’re caught out?”
he asked.
Dan shook his head.
“They catch um fast,” he muttered.
“Do you live in that hole?” he asked changing the subject and
pointing to the hill.
The dwarf nodded his head.
“In the winter time too?”
Again he nodded assent.
“I should think you’d freeze,” Bob said.
“Got good stove in dar. Keep plenty warm.”
“Well, Dan, we don’t want to do anything to harm you but that camp
belongs to a friend of ours and he’s lost a lot of money because you
scared away all his guests and I guess it’s up to us to take you to
jail unless you promise that you won’t do it any more. How about
it?”
The dwarf’s eyes were filled with terror as he heard Bob mention the
jail.
“Dan be good you let him be,” he promised eagerly.
“You’re sure?”
“Hope die.”
“All right then, we’ll give you a chance but mind, if there’s any
more of that ghost business, you’ll go to jail,” Bob assured him.
“No more,” Dan reiterated.
“Now, Dan,” Bob said after a moment’s pause, “there’s two or three
things I want you to explain. How about that spot of light? How did
you manage it?”
For a moment the dwarf hesitated as though undecided whether to tell
or to refuse, but finally he drew from his pocket a burning lens
about two inches across.
“It easy wid dis and a dark lantern,” he said with a broad grin.
“Of course,” Bob agreed. “But how about the raps?”
“Dan throw stones so dey hit one place. Throw dem mighty fast.”
“I’ll say you must have,” Jack broke in.
“And how did it happen that you never got caught in the traps we
set?” Bob asked next.
A smile lighted up the face of the dwarf as he replied.
“Dan too smart,” he chuckled.
“But we fixed them so that no one could tell they were there,” Bob
insisted.
“You good trap setter, but Dan see you set ’em.”
“You did?”
“Dan hide up in big pine tree, see you set ’em all.”
“Well, Dan, you’re smart, mighty smart, but remember your promise,”
Bob told him as he turned to the others. “Guess we might as well be
getting back to camp unless you want to ask some more questions.”
They all shook hands with the dwarf who now seemed very friendly
and, after again reminding him of his promise to be good, started
off through the woods, Sicum leading the way.
“What do you think of him?” Bob asked as soon as they were out of
hearing.
“I think he’s a slick one all right, but he’s no more crazy than I
am,” Jack replied and Kernertok grunted assent.
“My idea exactly,” Bob agreed. “I believe that part was all assumed,
but what was his real reason then?”
“Don’t know but I’ll bet that, whatever it is, he’ll do no more
ghost business.”
“I think you’re right,” Bob agreed as they started on again.
“And now, everything is cleared up with one exception,” Jack said as
he followed close behind.
“And that is—”
“The Sleepers,” Jack finished.
“Exactly. And the chances are we’ll never know, but it really
doesn’t matter so far as we’re concerned, now that they’ve gone.”
The breakfast horn sounded just as they reached the edge of the
clearing and never had it seemed more welcome for they were all very
hungry.
“Shall we tell Jacques?” Bob asked as they were washing.
“Might’s well, I guess. Perhaps he knows something about the fellow.
Anyhow I don’t see how it can do any harm.”
The meal was over before they broached the subject as they were too
busy stowing away the food Jacques had provided, but as they pushed
back their chairs, Bob asked:
“By the way, Jacques, do you know anybody around here called Crazy
Dan?”
“Oui, me know him, but heem no crazy. Heem mak’ folks tink so,”
Jacques replied after a moment’s pause. “You see heem?”
“Yes, we’ve seen him and what’s more, we’ve settled this ghost
business, that is, I guess we have.” And he told him all about their
adventure of the night.
Jacques was plainly surprised and shook his head as though doubtful
but finally he agreed that Dan must have been guilty.
“I allys know heem ver’ sharp, but no thot heem so sharp lik’ dat.”
Just then a loud hail was heard from out on the lake.
“Someone’s coming,” Bob cried as he rushed for the door closely
followed by Jack.
As they came out onto the porch they saw a canoe with two men in it
headed for the wharf and almost in.
“It’s Rex,” Jack yelled and started on the run for the wharf.
“And it’s Mr. Stokes with him,” Bob added close at his heels.
They reached the end of the wharf just as the canoe touched and in
another instant they were all shaking hands.
“How, in the world, did you get up here at this time of day?” Bob
asked as soon as the first greetings were over.
“We got up as far as the dam late last night and the man there put
us up over night. We would have been up in time to have got here for
supper but the fellow who drove us up from Greenville had engine
trouble and it was nearly eleven o’clock when we got to the dam,”
Rex explained.
“Well, come along and get breakfast. I guess Jacques can scare up
something. We’ve just finished,” Bob said as he led the way.
Nothing was said about business until they had eaten, then Rex said:
“And how’s the ghost business?”
“If you had asked that question yesterday at this time I’d have been
obliged to reply, about the same, thanks. But now, thank goodness, I
can say there ain’t no such animal any more, if you’ll excuse the
grammar,” Bob laughed.
“You mean that you’ve solved the mystery?” Mr. Stokes asked eagerly.
“I think so,” Bob replied and, for the next half hour, he was busy
telling them all about their adventures.
“Good boys,” Mr. Stokes declared when the story was finished. “Where
can I get a phone? I was going to have one put in here this summer.”
“There’s none nearer than the dam, I’m afraid,” Bob told him.
“Then I’ll have to get down there sometime during the day and send a
wire to my secretary. You see,” he explained, “I was so sure that
you were going to succeed that I had a lot of letters written to the
people who have been here, and they are on my desk all ready to
mail. I’ll bet we’ll have a crowd up here before the summer is
over.”
“Suppose you let Jack and me take the message down,” Bob proposed,
but Mr. Stokes declared that there was no reason why they shouldn’t
all go down in the motor boat.
“I’m mighty glad that Jacques wasn’t mixed up in it,” he whispered
to Bob a little later when they were ready to start.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Golden Boys at the Haunted Camp, by L. P. Wyman