THE GRANITE STAR CLUE
Sightseeing was forgotten now and general interest centered on Peg and
her Aunt Carrie. This lady, as usual, was delighted to meet the
Scouts, and talked freely to Miss Mackin of her hope that Peggie
should "mingle more" with the campers. Peg, herself, had come down
from the rock and out of the ravine, disheveled, untidy and plainly
tired.
"You simply must join our picnic," gushed Louise. "It seems like the
best of luck that we should have come up here."
Peg smiled and frowned alternately. She noticed her aunt was already
under the influence of a sandwich. It was a good fat one, with green
lettuce fringe and it came from Cleo's kit.
"I'll be back in a moment. I must attend to Whirlwind," said Peg. The
girls saw now she had pockets in that big leather apron, and they
bulged out--perhaps with some mountain souvenirs.
Grace attempted to follow Peg, going toward the horse under a big
tamarack tree, but the girl was evidently unconscious of this
attention, and as she hurried off, Grace, after a few steps of
uncertainty, turned back and flopped down on the edge of the circle of
picnic makers.
There was something very charming about Aunt Carrie. Even handling the
food betrayed her culture, and her solicitation about another's
comfort, all pointed to a knowledge of the little things acquired in
good breeding. And she was well cared for in spite of the mountain
life; her skin though dark was velvety, her hair like white floss, and
only when she removed her gloves for handling the food did her little
friends have an opportunity of noticing, besides the care her hands
received, that she wore a great opal ring, carved with the beetle,
perhaps.
Peg was coming back, and her pockets had been emptied, for the heavy
skirt now slinked around her slender form. She held her boyish hat by
its chin strap and smiled happily as she fell in with the group.
Yes, her eyes were of the same deep, dark cast, and her skin had that
same olive tint, even her gestures showed what a real relation this
girl was to the woman in the old-fashioned riding habit.
"You ride a lot, don't you?" said Cleo, carelessly.
"Yes, it's the one thing to do out here," replied Peg. She was trying
something from a number of tempting food samples offered her.
"And you enjoy riding, Miss Ramsdell?" said Miss Mackin to the aunt.
"I feel more at home on a horse than I do on my feet," replied the
woman. "But you see, I have always been used to horses."
"And not to feet----" flashed Peg.
"Now, my dear, don't tease an old lady. I have hard work enough to
keep up with you on foot or in the saddle," replied Aunt Carrie.
Both Cleo and Grace were thinking of the girl Leonore Fairbanks, and
both were anxious to mention to Peg her presence at the log cabin. It
came about precipitately, however.
Louise was pouring the lemonade and had just served Aunt Carrie. The
cup for Peg was filled and being extended when Grace said:
"We saw company at your house as we came along, Peg."
"Company?" She accepted Louise's cup.
"Yes. One of the girls from the hotel. She said she was Leonore
Fairbanks."
"Leonore Fairbanks? Where was she?" Peg's voice was a signal of alarm.
"Oh, Shag was on guard," put in Cleo. "She was around by the side
porch, but no danger of anyone making herself too much at home with
Shag doing picket duty."
Miss Ramsdell lay down her piece of cake. Peg did likewise with her
lemonade. Each had exchanged code glances.
"I'll run home and see if--if everything is all right," said the girl,
anxiously. "Auntie, you can follow or stay, I'll be all right. Sorry
to leave the picnic," she apologized. And the remarks that followed
her did not all reach her ears, for as quickly as even she, the
lightfoot, could do it, she was on Whirlwind and galloping away down
the hills, leaving after her the chagrined Bobbies.
"Why did you tell her?" whispered Helen to Grace.
"Because she should know," replied the latter, emphatically.
Miss Ramsdell was also leaving.
"Peggie is so temperamental," she apologized. "But the Fairbanks
family are not to be trusted--we have had our own troubles with those
girls and their unscrupulous father."
"But we are so sorry you couldn't have stayed a little longer," said
Miss Mackin. "I was just hoping our girls were finally going to get
acquainted. You see we have so short a time here now, and your place
has been an attraction from the first," she smiled condescendingly at
the glowering Scouts.
"Please do not think us rude," begged Miss Ramsdell. "We are not free
to act as we would always choose. Sometimes I doubt the wisdom of my
niece's determination; but she is determined to the point of
desperation, and she keeps offsetting my arguments with the hope of an
early victory." (This was ambiguous but sounded effective.) "I must go
right along after her," continued the little lady. "If that Leonore
should become too aggressive I wouldn't wonder if Peg would just use
some muscle on her," and she nodded her head insistently.
"We hate to have you go," murmured Cleo. She was going over to the
shady spot where the black mare waited its rider. Miss Ramsdell drew
on her gloves while the Scout led her horse up to a stone convenient
for mounting.
"We are so grateful and have enjoyed our little picnic so much," said
the woman. "Good-bye, everyone, and perhaps before camp breaks we may
be able to offer our own humble hospitality." With a slight effort she
was in the saddle. Yes, it was perfectly evident that Miss Ramsdell
was very much at home on her horse.
"A one reel act," remarked Louise. "I shouldn't care to keep moving at
the pace the Ramsdells run."
"They surely fear trouble," said Julia. "What can they be so secretive
about?"
"Whatever it is I wouldn't like to be playing Leonore's part when Peg
meets her," remarked Grace. "As her aunt said, she would likely use
muscle on the intruder," and Grace demonstrated to the loss of a
perfectly good half cup of lemonade that had been, until that moment,
in the hand of Julia.
"And was Shag really keeping guard?" questioned Helen, keen on the
scent of trouble for someone else.
"He was doing picket duty," replied Cleo. "It was too funny to see him
snoop after Leonore's heels. And she was almost sweet to us. I fancy
she thought we might take her part with Shag."
"Girls, when you have finished your chow we will take up the trail
again," suggested Miss Mackin. "There are some ores and metallic veins
in rocks about here, I believe, and we may make some interesting
discoveries."
"Look out for the dynamite sign," warned Corene. "I wonder who ever
planted those signs about?"
"Where are they?" asked Miss Mackin.
"Over by the Big Nose Rock," replied Louise. "We saw them the other
day when we were riding."
"And we thought the boys might have a bandits' cove under the hills,"
added Cleo. "Let's go over that way and explore."
Eagerly this suggestion was followed--so eagerly Corene and Miss Mackin
had difficulty in obliging the girls to get rid of every trace of the
picnic, thus conforming to a Scout regulation. But when the paper bags
had all been burned up in a carefully arranged little fire, after
which every ember and spark were extinguished, then they took up the
trail for Big Nose Rock.
They had some difficulty in cutting through from one hill to the next,
as very heavy underbrush, especially the iron fibered mountain laurel,
hid the rocks and betrayed the hikers' footing; but after a number of
minor mishaps all disposed of by the process of exclamation, the
Bobbies finally emerged in the little patch of soft green at the foot
of the big gray rock.
"I found the first one!" called out Helen. "Here's a dynamite sign!"
"Don't touch it!" cautioned Miss Mackin. "There is a powder mill not
far from here and there may be magazines about."
"Magazines!" questioned Corene. They were all inspecting the danger
sign half hidden in the grass.
"Yes. You know they sometimes bury explosives under the ground. Then
they build a little mound above it and call it a magazine."
"No mounds around here," declared Julia, glancing critically over the
flat surface between the hill and the springs.
"But here's something," observed Cleo, who had wandered off a short
distance. "Looks like pieces of gray stone." She stooped to pick up a
sample and then hesitated. "See how they grow," she remarked, "in a
sort of star."
Her companions gathered around to observe the curious formation, and
Miss Mackin came closer.
"Those have been arranged that way," she said. "See, someone has
placed the little flat stones in the shape of a star. The boys really
must have been up here," she concluded.
The girls dropped on their knees and peered closely. Brushing back the
grass it was now quite evident that star had been carefully formed,
but it was hidden in a little pocket of deep grass, between two slopes
that curved up to the rocky hills.
"And see how deep the pieces are buried," commented Corene. She was
prying up a sample with a small sharp stick.
"Some sort of clue, surely," insisted Grace. "What kind of stone is
it?"
"I wouldn't disturb it," suggested Miss Mackin. "Suppose we just mark
the spot so we can find it again, if we want to?"
"Yes, let's put one of the dynamite signs here," exclaimed Helen.
"I wouldn't," interposed clever Cleo. "Perhaps the dynamite people
don't know anything about the star clue. We might lead them to it."
"But it's only a stone star," insisted Helen.
"And it didn't grow there," argued Cleo.
"Look!" exclaimed Corene, who was critically examining the tiny strip
of stone she had pried loose. "There are some figures or something
marked on this."
Everyone now crowded around her to see the characters.
"That is not Indian," declared Miss Mackin. "It looks as if it were
burned in with acid."
She was scrutinizing the little flat mosaic-like block. Yes, there
seemed to be a mark there, but it might easily have been on the stone
before the star idea originated.
"I'm going to keep this piece, at any rate," declared Corene. "Maybe
it's a real carved beetle, like the Egyptian Scarabus," she ventured.
"Hardly," replied the director. "Yet it is interesting and yours,
Corey, as you dug it up."
"Then I'm going to have one also," cried Cleo, already on her knees
before the broken star.
"Count the pieces," suggested Louise, "and perhaps we can all have a
piece."
"Very well," agreed Miss Mackin, "but mark the spot well. It may have
some significance."
The girls were eagerly digging up the little granite pieces. As they
turned each over they found it marked with characters similar to that
found by Corene.
"I know! I know!" exclaimed Julia. "I've read about this sort of
marking. See, the straight lines. That's the rune."
"Rune!" repeated Grace.
"Yes, don't you know we read of it in our ancient history? A rune is a
sort of alphabet of sixteen characters and all are formed in straight
lines."
"I remember," spoke up Cleo. "The letters look exactly like our signal
code, for wig-wagging. Don't you know there were pictures of funny
clothes-pins and jumping-jacks?"
Not all were exactly clear in their memory of the runes, but each
intended to look it up, and Miss Mackin was delighted that her girls
had stumbled upon so interesting a discovery. Carefully collecting all
the pieces the Bobbies next proceeded to mark the spot secretly, and
it was this seemingly trifling detail that eventually led to the
finding of the granite star clue.