ALARMED
So quiet and peaceful and like old times had the last two days seemed
that the Radio Girls were quite unprepared for Burd’s announcement that
he and Darry and Fol were about to desert the camp again.
“We feel we ought to go down to the swamp and investigate those spooks,”
said Darry, in response to their protests.
“But we haven’t heard or seen anything lately,” said Amy.
“If you go down there you may just succeed in stirring up the animals,”
added Nell.
“And I didn’t hear any invitation for us to go along,” said Jessie. “We
want to, you know.” Darry smiled at her, but shook his head.
“We don’t think you girls had better go until we have a chance to look
about first,” he said. “In our estimation, you are a great deal better
off right here for the present.”
“There you go! Mysterious again, Darry Drew!” said Amy, with a frown.
“What do you suppose could possibly hurt us down at that old swamp?”
“We don’t know, and because we don’t know we think it is better we
prospect around a little by ourselves first,” replied Darry, firmly.
“We will probably be back by to-night, anyway,” said Fol, in what was
meant to be reassurance.
“Folsom Duckworth, do you mean there is a possibility you _won’t_ be
back to-night?” demanded Nell, in surprise, and Fol looked sheepish.
“Not a chance in the world,” he answered. “What would keep us in a swamp
overnight, I would like to know?”
“So would I!” retorted Nell, adding, with a sigh: “You boys do interest
me strangely!”
Under protest the girls finally consented to fix a lunch for the three
boys. They felt uneasy about this sudden expedition to the swamp and
would have dissuaded the boys from undertaking it if they could have
done so. However, they knew Darry well enough to be sure there was no
changing his mind when it was once made up, and in this case they felt
sure that Darry had originated and planned the whole thing.
It was with vague misgivings then, that they watched the boys go off on
the narrow path that led toward the swamp.
“I don’t understand it at all,” said Jessie. “The boys act so queerly
and seem to have so many secrets from us.”
“Darry must have put them up to this ghost-hunting trip,” said Amy,
voicing the thought that had troubled them all. “I caught him talking to
Burd and Fol very seriously two or three times, and when they saw me
they changed the subject—_pronto_. Oh, I know them—and I know Darry!”
“I used to think I did too,” said Jessie, plaintively. “But lately he
seems like some one else, and so do Burd and Fol. I can’t make them
out.”
“I think there is more behind this trip than just the scare we had the
other night,” said Nell. “It seems to me the boys have some other reason
for braving the horrors of the swamp just now.”
“I tell you what we can do,” suggested Amy, the ever-resourceful. “We
can do some investigating on our own account!”
“You mean, follow the boys?” asked Nell, doubtfully.
“We will follow nothing but our own inclinations,” retorted Amy. “I want
to find those ghosts.”
“Good! Suppose we pack us a lunch and get started right away!” from
Jessie. “We may find out more about Phrosy’s ghosts than the boys do
before we get through.”
Miss Alling helped them pack a lunch—though they really had not the
slightest intention of being gone more than an hour or two—and they were
soon ready to start on their own prospecting expedition.
“This is the life!” cried Amy, as they swung along a rock-strewn sloping
trail that led in the direction of the swamp. “The boys thought they
would leave us at home to twiddle our thumbs, did they? We’ll show
them!”
But as they approached closer to the swamp and were enveloped by the
damp, unpleasant vapor rising from it, their spirits underwent a decided
slump. Nell and Amy held back, and finally Jessie was forced to wait for
them to catch up to her.
“What is the matter? Not afraid of ghosts, are you?” she teased them.
“Why, you haven’t even seen any yet.”
“I keep expecting to have them jump out at me from behind the bushes,”
confessed Nell. “I have a horrible feeling that those ghostly white
figures are chasing us.”
“Goodness, let’s hurry then,” said Amy, with a laugh and a nervous
glance over her shoulder. “At the rate we are going they will surely
catch up to us.”
“I guess this is about where the swamp begins,” said Jessie, sliding a
foot about in the oozing mud. “See how rank the vegetation is.”
“Here’s a path—of a sort—that seems to lead through it, though,”
observed Nell.
“Come on, then,” said Amy, with a nervous giggle. “It’ll be no worse to
be swallowed up by the swamp than to be scared to death by the ghosts.”
Gingerly, they felt their way along the soft ground, expecting every
moment that they might slip and find themselves mired in the oozing mud.
Finally, after half an hour of this sort of progress, they came to a
place where the solid ground seemed to end. Before them and on both
sides of them waved and beckoned the treacherous, too-green marsh grass.
Jessie, stretching out a foot warily in search of firmer footing, drew
back as the mud sucked greedily at her shoe.
“No use, I guess,” she said reluctantly. “We’ll have to go back and try
some other way.”
Carefully they retraced their steps, slipping now and then and clutching
at one another in wild panic. Once they thought they had lost the trail.
It was only a moment before they found the firmer ground again, but the
absolute terror of those few seconds was unforgettable.
Once upon familiar ground again in the shelter of the forest, they could
laugh at their panic, but even then they could not think of it without a
shudder.
“I don’t see why we went into the swamp, anyway,” remarked Nell, as they
started slowly to circle the swamp. “Those horrid figures we saw were on
the edge of the swamp, not in it.”
“Well, we might as well look around here, anyway,” replied Jessie.
“Though I don’t in the least expect to see anything but our own
shadows,” added Amy, gloomily.
The forest seemed so unusually quiet and peaceful to the girls that they
began to question whether they had not imagined that moaning, eerie cry,
those white figures flitting among the trees near the swamp.
At last, tired and a little shaken by their experience in the swamp,
they ate their lunch and returned to Forest Lodge.
Darkness came, and still the boys did not return. Night came, and
morning, and still no word of them. How they managed to live through the
hours of the long day that followed, the girls could never tell.
Another night they passed in Forest Lodge, and when the second morning
dawned they were hollow-eyed and shaken with worry.
Miss Alling protested vigorously when they declared their decision of
invading the swamp again in search of the boys. Once more she warned
them of the dangers that lurked in that treacherous place.
“I would rather get lost in the swamp and die and have my bones bleached
by the sun than spend another minute worrying,” said Amy.
“I will take my compass with me, anyway,” Jessie promised.
“A compass is your very best friend in the woods,” Miss Alling admitted.
Clad in their knicker suits with leather leggings to protect them from
the scratches of thorns and twigs, carrying with them a liberal supply
of sandwiches and fruit, the Radio Girls set out to trail the boys.
They did not linger on the way, but went swiftly down the narrow trail
toward the swamp, intent upon their purpose. After the long and anxious
wait, action of any sort meant relief to them.
As they approached the swampy ground the vegetation became profuse and
rank and the earth turned slimy underfoot. There was a musty, unpleasant
odor, such as they had noticed two days before, arising from the
marshes. Knowing that the trail they had followed on that unsuccessful
invasion of the swamp was a false one, they turned sharply to their left
on this occasion, choosing their steps with even greater care than
before.
“I wonder if this is the direction the boys took,” said Amy, when they
stopped on a small rise of ground to catch their breath before hurrying
on. “I’d hate to think we were wasting time by going in the wrong
direction.”
“I am sure we are right so far,” Jessie reassured her, consulting the
compass in her hand. “They started due south, and up to this point the
trail is quite plain.”
“The question now seems to be, where do we go from here?” remarked Nell,
looking about her with distaste at the sea of rank grass and vegetation.
“If we make a false step we may find ourselves up to our necks in mud.”
For some distance the ground remained soft and slimy. Then they came to
a comparatively solid trail over which they could proceed more rapidly.
Suddenly, ahead of her through the thinning trees and vegetation, Jessie
saw something that brought her to a halt.
Out on a rise of solid ground, such as were scattered over the swamp
like tiny islands in a lake, was a queer-looking hut. The windows of the
hut, seen from that distance, appeared no bigger than the portholes of a
ship.
A flat scow or raft lay close to this “island,” as though it were used
to carry occupants of the hut back and forth to the shore.
Jessie beckoned to the other girls, and as they joined her several
disreputable-looking men and women emerged from the hut and, embarking
upon the raft, pushed out from the island in the direction of the shore.
“Now what do you think of that?” demanded Amy, but Jessie pressed an
urgent, silencing hand over her mouth. The appearance of those men and
women on the raft warned her that it would never do to make known their
presence in that vicinity.
Suddenly a faint sound reached their ears, seeming to come from a long
distance. It was a cry for help.
“That was Darry’s voice!” cried Jessie, trembling.