“Flash your light up,” he directed. “Where are we?”
Kent played the light around him, and they saw that they were in an old quarry. The rock walls gleamed in the faint light of the flash.
“A quarry!” Barry cried.
Kent played the light down toward the ground, and they saw a small shed. “There is shelter, if we need it,” he began. At that moment the flashlight slipped out of his hand and fell into the snow. “Doggone it,” he grumbled. “I dropped the light.”
Both of them stooped to search for it and then paused as they heard a sound near them. Someone was approaching, and they felt a great relief as they realized it. Neither of them spoke, and a moment later a light flashed out, evidently from a flashlight. The beam rested on the shed, and the boys waited to see the face or form of the one who held it. But they were destined to be disappointed. A hand came into the center of light and turned the knob on the shed door. The hand was sheltered in a black glove, and that was all that they saw of the person who opened the door of the quarry shed. The light was instantly extinguished and the door slammed shut. They heard a key turn in the lock.
“Wonder who that was?” Kent asked. He had found the flashlight, and they both stood up and tried to see things more clearly.
“I don’t know. Funny he didn’t hear us or see our light.”
“The wind is too loud for him to have heard us. Seems as though he should have seen our light. Going to ask for some help?”
“Of course. We don’t know our way, and we need to have someone tell us. We’ll knock on the door.”
Approaching the small quarry shed, Barry knocked on the door, and they waited. The wind still blew strongly, and the flakes drifted down into the abandoned quarry. No answer came to their summons, and Barry tried again. They listened with growing impatience.
“It’s a wonder he wouldn’t open the door or at least call out,” Kent growled.
Barry took Kent’s flashlight and flashed the beam around. The shed was backed up against a dirt section of the quarry wall, and the windows were boarded up. It was impossible to look into the little shelter. He walked around on the far side and found that conditions there were the same. Then they once more stood before the door and listened.
Barry kicked the door. “Is anybody here?” he shouted. “We’re two boys that have lost our way, and we want to ask directions.”
The only answer was a profound stillness from the inside of the quarry shed. The boys looked at each other, and angry thoughts leaped into their minds. They had been adrift in the cold and storm so long that this lack of common humanity on the part of the man whom they had seen enter the shed aroused them.
“He’s hiding in there and won’t answer,” Kent cried. “We ought to kick the door in!”
“I’d like to know what he’s hiding for,” Barry said. “He must have some reason for not wanting to talk to us.”
Losing his temper for the moment, Kent launched two heavy kicks against the door of the quarry shed. The sound boomed out across the big cleared space, and the boys listened expectantly, hoping that this vigorous summons would bring results. But no answer came to them.
“Let’s break in,” Kent proposed. “We can’t freeze to death out in the open, and besides that, I’d like to tell that man inside what I think of him. We can crash that door down.”
For a moment Barry was swayed by the idea. It seemed to them as though they had been cold and lost for ages, and the prospect of warmth and shelter from the driving wind was alluring. But as he considered it, he shook his head.
“I don’t think we ought to, Kent. For some reason that we don’t know, whoever went into the shed is hiding. That shows he is up to no good. Such a person may have a gun on him, and if we break in, we may get shot.”
“I suppose you’re right, but I do want to have a few words with that fellow. No matter who he is or what he is up to, he could at least shout out directions. What are we going to do? Wait awhile until he comes sneaking out?”
“We could do that. We could hide and watch the place and then go into it when he comes out. But look here, isn’t this quarry familiar to you? Isn’t it the one we can see from the lodge?”
Kent looked around, impatiently brushing the snow from his collar. “I don’t know. All quarries look the same, especially in a storm.”
“I know it, but how many quarries are there near the lodge? Only one that I know of, and we can see that one from the place.”
“If that is true,” said Kent, thoughtfully, “we have just wandered around in a big circle and come around in back of the lodge instead of approaching it from the side. By golly, we may be almost home!”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Barry pointed through a gap formed by the quarry and the dark, snow-laden trees of the forest. “The lodge would be in that direction, wouldn’t it?”
“I think so. Shall we hike that way?”
“Yes, let’s go. No use standing around here.”
“But suppose we’re wrong? We ought to try and get back here and break into this little building. We might wander until we’re exhausted, drop and then freeze. More than one hunter has done that, you know.”
“If we find we’re wrong, we’ll try and make our way back here,” Barry said. “But I just have a hunch that the lodge lies in that direction. We’ll try it.”
Spurred on by the faint hope that they might be somewhere near their camp, the boys hurried out of the bowl of the quarry and once more plunged into the woods. They found that their feet had become numb from standing, and they winced as they began their journey. The wind was still sharp, but the snowflakes had thinned out and the storm was obviously letting up. There had been considerable snow, however, and their feet sank deep into it as they traveled on.
“I believe that the storm is letting up,” Barry said, as they tramped on, heads down and faces bent to escape the bite of the wind.
“That will be a help,” Kent acknowledged. “But isn’t this cold intense? I’d give something to be out of this wind and to get my feet warm. I don’t want to kick a rock or a tree root, for fear of knocking a couple of toes off!”
“When we get up to the top of this slope, we may be able to see our way and figure out where we are,” Barry consoled.
“We’ve had mighty bad luck,” Kent said. “We haven’t come across a single home, and there are some in these mountains, but our wanderings have taken us away from them.”
“Yes, if we had run across a house, we could have put up for the night. We may do so yet. Well, in a few minutes we can see something.”
Toiling on up the slope, they came at last to a break in the timber, and their anxious eyes scanned the dark landscape for any signs that might guide them. Then Barry pointed.
“I wonder if that is a light off there? It’s pretty small and still some distance away. What do you think?”
“Looks like a light to me. We might as well go in that direction and see. It is as good as walking around blindly.”
They set off at a faster pace, and soon there could be no doubt that a light of some kind was before them. The confirmation of their hope caused their spirits to rise rapidly.
“It is either our camp or some house,” Barry said, as he walked on with a new vigor in his stride. “Whichever it is, it means warmth for us.”
“I hope it is the camp, but if it isn’t, a house will be all right,” observed Kent. “Unless the people there are like the man who hid in the quarry shed.”
“We won’t find many like that, thank goodness,” Barry remarked.
For a short distance they lost sight of the light as they crossed a low section of ground where many bushes grew, and then when they once more came out on high ground a joyous shout burst from Kent. “It is the lodge!” he shouted. “Hurrah, we’re located at last. See the old cabin over there, beside it?”
“Yes, there is no doubt of it,” agreed Barry, thankfully. “Boy, does that place look good to me! Before long we’ll be hugging the fire!”
“We’ll give it a big bear hug,” Kent promised. “Gosh, I am glad to be back safely. Things looked black for us for a while.”
“They certainly did,” Barry agreed, soberly. “Too bad we didn’t bring the sled on with us, but we just didn’t know.”
“It’s all right,” Kent assured him. “With this depth of snow on the ground it was hard to pull the sled, and we have made better time without it. I believe we can find our way back to the place where we left it.”
“So do I. We’ve got to get Mac’s sausage for him! To say nothing of our oil and the other things on the sled.”
Their spirits were climbing with every step, and now that the cold adventure was about over with, they felt strength and confidence returning. With the knowledge that they would soon be reunited with the boys in the lodge, they were beginning to forget the suffering and anxiety of their wandering in the storm.
They approached the lodge from the timber that grew close to the back of it, and as they drew nearer, they heard three loud thumps.
“The boys must be nailing something on the walls,” Barry remarked.
“I’m glad they left that lamp in the window,” Kent observed. “It has been a life-saver for us.”
“Here comes one of them around the house,” Barry exclaimed. “I wonder what he is doing?”
The returning travelers were just on the point of leaving the shelter of the trees and crossing the open space to the lodge when the appearance of someone from the porch stopped them. A figure in black raced along the side of the lodge and crouched near the window where the lamp stood. At the same time the lamp was taken away and the boys in the woods saw Tim’s face briefly through the window.
“Say, that’s not Tim or Mac!” Barry cried, in a low tone, as they stood and looked at the black shadow stooping beneath the window. “The boys are in the house! Something is going on here!”
“Something funny, too,” Kent quivered. “Want to tackle that fellow by the window?”
Before Barry could answer, the black shadow straightened up and ran to the back of the lodge, disappearing in the tool house. The man seemed to have a long overcoat on, and he was a weird sight as he fled with long, loping strides to the tool house. Barry grasped Kent’s arm.
“Kent, that’s the spook of this lodge!”
“Sure thing!” his companion breathed. “We’ve got to get him!”
“Listen,” proposed Barry, rapidly. “You sprint for the lodge and get the twins. Bring the guns with you. I’m going to watch that tool house so that the man doesn’t get out and give us the slip. Step to it!”
Kent needed no urging. He was a little too stiff to run well, but he did the best he knew how and covered the distance from the woods to the lodge in fairly good time. The porch creaked as he ran across it, and he threw open the front door without ceremony. Then he received a surprise as he came face to face with the twins.
They were standing in the cold hall, and Tim held the lamp, which Mac had just lighted. The poker was on the floor at Mac’s feet, and they turned with startled faces as Kent dashed in at the door. Then Tim’s face darkened with anger.
“Oh, it was you fellows, after all,” he began, with some heat. But Kent interrupted him.
“It was like fun! There is a man hiding in the tool house. We saw him run around the lodge. Get the rifles and come on! Barry is watching the tool shed!”
The twins lost no time. Mac forgot about the poker and ran into the living room, returning with the rifles and his hat and Tim’s.
“How about the lamp?” Tim asked, as he seized his hat.
“Leave it here,” Kent returned, curtly. “I have my flashlight. Come on!”
They raced across the front porch and jumped into the snow, the twins shivering with cold as they came in contact with the outside air. Barry had moved in from the timber and was standing near the back porch. Mac tossed him his rifle, which he caught on the run. Tim had taken the poker, and Kent had his rifle. Mac alone was not armed, but Kent passed the flashlight to him.
“He’s still in there,” Barry told them, as they stopped outside the door. “I haven’t taken my eyes off of the place since you left, and he hasn’t come out. Turn on the light, whoever has it.”
Mac pressed the button, and the beam of light showed the door. Barry wasted no time in summoning the one who was inside. With his rifle held forward he pushed the door of the tool house. Kent was close to him, and Tim brought up in the rear.
They were all excited and a trifle scared, but the general feeling was that the black shadow should be captured at once. Under Barry’s push the door yielded slightly, and it was evident that it was not locked. He gave it a stronger push, and it rushed back against the wall with a crash. The light from the flash swept into the shed.
Their nerves were tense and eyes strained as they looked about the tool house. And it was Barry who voiced the conviction of all of them:
“He got away! There’s no one in the place!”
The mystery hunters were astonished and baffled as they gazed into the interior of the tool shed of the haunted lodge. No one was in the place. The garden tools hung in order, a large bale of hay stood back against the wall, but no human being was to be seen. Nor was there anywhere to hide. Mac turned the beam of the light upward. There was no loft, only some cross braces of wood that would not hide even a cat.
“But we saw him come in here,” Kent protested, as they stood and looked around.
“And I never took my eyes off of the shed,” Barry added. “I ran across from the woods and didn’t even watch my footing because I wanted to keep my eyes on the place. I can’t figure it out.”
Tim pointed to a small window in the rear.
“Maybe he slipped through that.”
Barry crossed the floor of the tool house and tried the window. It was not locked, and it lifted inward.
“Well, he might have, though I don’t see why I shouldn’t have seen it at the time. Looks as though that was his only way. Perhaps he heard or saw me running across to the back porch and he slipped out of the window as we were approaching the front. Too bad, but he is gone.”
“I’m convinced that it was our spook, too,” Mac said.
“Let’s take a look around back and see if we can find any footprints,” proposed Kent, and, going to the back of the tool shed, they looked around. But a mass of briar bushes grew close to the rear of the small building, and they were unable to find any clues.
“Nothing doing,” Barry sighed. “He has given us the slip.”
“Let’s get inside,” suggested Tim, who was feeling the cold intensely.
“Yes, you fellows aren’t dressed for outdoors,” nodded Kent. “And we are just about crazy to get in around the fire. We’ll have to give this up as a bad job, for the time being anyway.”
With some reluctance they left the vicinity of the tool house and made their way around to the front of the hunting lodge. The boys had left the front door open in their haste, and the hall was even colder than it had been. The twins led the way into the living room of the lodge.
“Welcome to Bluff Lodge!” Mac cried, taking the poker and beginning to stir the fire. Barry and Kent spread grateful hands toward the blaze.
“Coal on the fire!” Barry exclaimed. “Where did that come from?”
“There is a coal shed back of the kitchen,” Tim explained. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Does it!” Kent and Barry ejaculated in chorus. “You don’t know the half of it!”
“Been out in the woods in all this storm?” Mac asked.
Barry nodded. “Yes, we have been lost. Had to leave the sled and find our way. It was a great idea on the part of you fellows to put the lamp in the window.”
“Have you had any supper?” Tim asked.
“Yes, we had plenty. Built a fire and cooked some steak,” Kent told him. “But I’d surely appreciate a hot cup of coffee. How about you, Barry?”
“Yes, indeed,” his chum agreed. He began to take off his outer clothes, shaking snow into the fireplace. “We’ve all got stories to swap. What was that man doing besides thumping on the side of the house?”
While the coffee was preparing they sat close to the fire and talked. The twins told their story first, and the two who had been lost listened with close attention. Then, while they all drank hot coffee, Barry and Kent related the events of the day.
They had put the lamp out, and the fire glowed red. A feeling of comfort and security settled over them, in spite of the lurking presence of the one who was seeking to annoy them. Although they were tired they had too much to discuss to want to go to bed at the moment.
“So you didn’t bring home Mac’s hog grindings,” Tim grinned.
“We were lucky to bring ourselves home,” Kent retorted. “But we are sure that we know where the sled is, and if the storm lets up tomorrow, we’ll go get it.”
Mac went to the window and looked out, shielding his eyes from the light of the fire. “I believe that the worst of it is over already,” he declared.
“The flakes are coming down slowly.” He turned back and sat down in a wicker chair. “We certainly are glad to see you back again.”
“The sight of this lodge was certainly a most welcome one,” grinned Barry. “We didn’t care whether it was haunted or not!”
They talked for a time and then sought their beds. Kent and Barry were pleased at the change of quarters. They lugged in the mattresses from the beds in the cold bedrooms and placed them on the floor. Mac selected the wide sofa for his resting place, and when they had washed and were ready, they stretched out on the mattresses with various feelings of satisfaction.
“I never was so tired,” Kent yawned.
“What about keeping guard?” Tim suggested. “Suppose that thumping, knocking idiot comes around again?”
“I won’t hear his thumping or knocking,” Barry predicted, with a grin.
“I won’t, either,” Kent said. “Looks like you Ford boys will have to do the chasing.”
“I’m not going to chase him,” Tim promised.
“We won’t have to stand guard,” was Mac’s opinion. “I’m a pretty light sleeper, and maybe I’ll wake up if anything goes wrong. We’ll hope he doesn’t come back again.”
Little more was said, and the boys went to sleep, thoroughly exhausted. They had not slept well since coming to Lake Arrowtip, and there was no guarantee that they would not be disturbed before morning, but they went to sleep trusting that all would be well. This time good fortune was on their side, and they slept soundly until somewhat late in the morning. The mattresses were soft and comfortable, and the room was warm most of the night. Barry was the first to awaken, and when he had looked around and noted that his companions were still asleep, he lowered his head and slept for another half-hour.
Mac was the first to get up, and he looked at the clock. “Eight-thirty!” he whistled. “For the love of Mike, what hardy campers we are!” He reached over and took the poker and proceeded to beat on the side of the coal scuttle. “Wake up, the enemy is upon you!”
The others quickly woke up and looked around the room in some confusion. “You’re the only enemy we have!” growled Kent.
“That’s a sign that you are a great man,” chuckled Mac. “All great men have enemies!”
For breakfast they finished up the pork and beans left from the previous night. Most of their provisions were on the sled, and as soon as they had set the lodge in order they prepared to set off for the woods to find the missing vehicle. It had stopped snowing sometime during the night, and the sun was struggling to come out of the gray clouds.
“I guess the spook didn’t come back last night,” Tim remarked, as they started out.
“If he did, I didn’t hear him,” Barry declared. “I slept like a log the whole night. Not even a dream disturbed me.”
“I wasn’t quite as lucky as that,” Kent told them. “I kept dreaming over and over again that I was wandering around in circles. But I didn’t hear anything, not even Mac’s snores!”
“I don’t snore,” retorted Mac. “At least I’ve never heard myself!”
Barry and Kent were going by guesswork and at first were unable to find the place where they had left the sled, but just as they were becoming discouraged Kent pointed off to the left. “There’s a small bluff, and it looks like it might be the place,” he said.
“It was snowing so hard at the time that we couldn’t be certain of anything,” Barry said. “But that looks like the place. Yes, it is!”
They found the sled still buried under the tree limbs and bushes, but it was evident that some animal had been scratching around in an effort to get at it. “Probably a fox,” was Tim’s guess. Nothing had been disturbed, however, and they started back to the lodge with the sled. As they came out of the timber Mac pointed ahead of them.
“Somebody is standing close to the lodge,” he said, in a low voice.
They saw a man standing near the front porch, looking around him as though in perplexity. He was evidently a woodsman, and he held something in his hand. Upon seeing the boys he hastened to meet them.
“Howdy-do,” he greeted. “Which one of you boys is named Garrison?”
“I am,” Barry informed him. The man held out a letter.
“Here’s a letter to you. I passed through Fox Point this mornin’, and I’m goin’ down to the head of the lake, so the storekeeper asked me to take it.”
“Thanks a lot,” Barry acknowledged, noting that it was from his father.
“You’re welcome, sure,” the man replied, as he turned away.
“Stop and have some dinner with us,” Kent called, but the man smiled and shook his head.
“Had mine already, thanks to you,” he replied and was soon out of sight.
Barry read his letter while the others were preparing dinner, and his face was a study as he finished it. “No bad news, is there?” Kent asked.
Barry shook his head. “No, but my Dad says we had better come on home. School starts again Tuesday, and he thinks I ought to be home so as to get ready to study for the next term. When he wrote this, he hadn’t received my letter, of course. I suppose we’ll have to go back.”
The others had stopped their preparations for the noon meal and had clustered around. “That means go home tomorrow,” Mac pointed out.
Barry nodded. “Yes, it does. And I think we ought to get up early and make our trip all in the one day, instead of camping out overnight again.”
“It can be done easily enough,” Kent agreed. “Well, I didn’t realize that our time was up so soon. We haven’t solved our mystery, either.”
“That’s exactly what is bothering me,” Barry declared. “We have been here long enough to have the ghost or prowler make raps and knocks, and then we have let him slip right out of our fingers. It won’t be easy to tell that to Dad, though I feel sure that he’ll understand that we did the best we could. But it is a big disappointment to me.”
“We really should have had more time on the case,” Tim said. “Maybe something will happen tonight and we can lay hands on the one we want.”
“That’s our only hope,” Kent declared. “Something must happen tonight!”
They spent the afternoon at the lodge, and for supper Mac had his sausage. After supper they chatted and enjoyed their last evening in the hunting lodge. They arranged to take turns watching through the night, and Barry took the first session. While the others slept, he sat in a big chair back in the shadows, his eyes and ears alert. Mac followed him and then the others, but nothing amiss happened, and when daylight came, they were forced to realize that their last chance had passed.
“Nothing doing, we’ve failed,” remarked Barry, somewhat bitterly.
As soon as they had had breakfast they set the lodge in order and then left it, making sure that everything was in its place. At the edge of the lake skates were strapped on, and they struck out briskly. Before the sun had risen very high they had entered the mouth of Buffalo and were going downriver at a good pace. It was evident that they would arrive in Cloverfield soon after dark. But the thought did not make them as happy as it should have. They were deeply disappointed at their failure.
“Maybe we can come back in the summer and camp there,” Tim said, as they talked it over around the fire of their noon camp.
“The summer is a long way off,” declared Barry gloomily. “I wish we had landed him this time. But I guess we lost our opportunity once and for all.”
As the boys had calculated, they reached Cloverfield well after dark. In discussing it at noontime, they agreed not to pause for an evening meal, but to push on and get home as soon as possible. Accordingly, they kept up a fast pace, and had it not been for frequent detours around snow-covered places and logs, they would have made it by early darkness. But as it was, they did well and saw the lights of their home city before them at 7:30 o’clock. By eight they had reached their homes, and Barry went in after a few final words with Kent. The light and warmth struck him pleasantly as he stepped in the door.
His mother and sister were in the kitchen washing and drying dishes, and his father was just coming up from the cellar, where he had been putting more coal on the furnace. They heard his footsteps along the hall and greeted him eagerly.
“We didn’t know whether you would get in tonight or tomorrow,” his mother said, as she kissed him.
“Did you have your supper?” Pearl asked. “I’ll get you some if you didn’t.”
“I haven’t had any, Pearl, and I’ll tell Mac what a nice girl you are if you’ll get me some,” Barry answered, with a grin.
“Oh, get out!” Pearl retorted, her cheeks flushing. “If you keep on talking that way, I won’t do anything for you!”
“I got your letter, son,” Mr. Garrison told him. “So you moved into the lodge when you found that someone had been upstairs in the place. Have any luck? Did you see anything?”
“The only luck we had was bad luck,” Barry replied, as he took off his coat and hat and hung his skates in the cellar-way. “We saw the spook and thought we had him bottled up, but he got away.”
“What!” cried his father, in genuine astonishment. His mother looked on in surprise, and Pearl turned from the ice box to glance at him.
“Oh, Barry! What did he look like?”
“He looked just like a man, but we didn’t see his face,” her brother informed her, as he washed his hands. “I’ll tell you all about it while I eat.”
They were all so eager to hear his story that all three of them fell to waiting on him, and while he ate he told them the complete story of the black shadow who had made the thumps and knocks. His father listened with puckered brow and leaned forward on the kitchen table in his eagerness.
“I’m glad you and Kent weren’t lost in that storm,” his mother said, looking fondly at her clean-cut, vigorous son.
“My goodness, I would have been scared to death if I had seen that figure run along the side of the lodge!” Pearl declared.
“Barry, I think Mrs. Morganson ought to hear that story,” Mr. Garrison remarked. “Feel like going over to her house tonight?”
“Of course, Dad, if you give me time to clean up a bit. I’m still dressed as a camper, you know.”
“That won’t bother Mrs. Morganson, but I agree that you ought at least to change your shirt. You do that as soon as you have finished, and I’ll telephone her and ask if we may come over.”
Barry nodded his agreement, and his father was soon talking to his client over the wire. In a few moments he came back, putting on his overcoat as he came.
“She says she’ll be glad to see us,” he said. “I’ll get the car out, and we’ll go over as soon as you are ready.”
Barry rose from the table. “I’ll be with you in a couple of shakes, Dad.” He raced up the front stairs and before long was running down them again, with a clean shirt and his hair neatly combed. “Did Dad come in?” he asked his mother.
“No, he’s out front, sitting in the car and waiting for you,” she said. “He had faith in you when you said you’d only be a couple of shakes. He seemed to know what a shake is.”
“Just two shakes of a lamb’s tail, Mother. Is that all the time I took?”
“Yes, if the lambs shook them pretty slowly,” Mrs. Garrison smiled.
Barry trotted down the walk and got into the car. “All right, Dad, here I am.”
Mrs. Morganson lived on the other side of Cloverfield, and after driving several blocks Mr. Garrison brought the car to a stop in front of a fine old white house that stood back among some magnificent trees. As they opened the door to get out of the car, the front door of the big house opened, and a man came down the steps and approached them. As the lamplight revealed him, Mr. Garrison murmured his name.
“Brand Curry! I wonder.... Good-evening, Mr. Curry.”
The rather chunky individual merely grunted and gave a short nod. He seemed out of humor and would have passed on, but Barry’s father hailed him.
“Just a moment, Mr. Curry. Have you been in to see Mrs. Morganson about the Bluff Lodge proposition again?”
Curry swung around and faced him abruptly. “It is none of your business what I went to see Mrs. Morganson about, Mr. Garrison.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” the lawyer returned evenly. “If it was about that hunting lodge, it is my business. But if you weren’t talking about that, it wasn’t.”
“I did go see Mrs. Morganson,” the man admitted defiantly.
“Well, that’s just what I thought, Mr. Curry. Why don’t you come to me? I am her representative, and she is not to be bothered with the details. Why is it that you don’t come to me?”
“Mr. Garrison, this is a free country, and I go where I like. I prefer to deal directly with Mrs. Morganson, that is all.”
“Is it because you have no confidence in me, Mr. Curry?” Barry’s father asked.
“I have my reasons, Mr. Garrison, and I will keep them to myself. Good night!”
Mr. Curry walked away with dignity, and Mr. Garrison shook his head in perplexity. “He’s a hard man to deal with, and he never has been willing to talk over this particular deal with me. He didn’t act very happy, did he?”
“No,” Barry chuckled. “Maybe Mrs. Morganson told him to go and see you.”
“We’ll soon know,” said Mr. Garrison, leading the way into the house. At his knock a servant let them in and showed them to a small private library where Mrs. Morganson was reading. She welcomed them with kindness, and they sat close to a grate fire as they talked.
“As I told you over the phone, Mrs. Morganson, my son has something of importance to tell you concerning Bluff Lodge,” Mr. Garrison began. “He and three of his friends have been camping up on Arrowtip, and he learned some interesting things. The last two days that they were at the lake, they camped in the lodge itself.”
Mrs. Morganson looked with interest at Barry, and her words were a distinct surprise. “I know that he and his friends have been camping in the lodge,” she said. “Mr. Brand Curry has just been here to protest about it!”
Barry and his father exchanged glances. “To protest about it!” Mr. Garrison cried.
“Yes,” the lady nodded. “He said that it lowered the value of the place to allow boys to camp there. He seemed quite annoyed about it.”
“But how did he know that we were there?” Barry inquired.
“He said that someone who knew the place had been up there lately and saw the boys in the lodge. I asked him if they had done anything to hurt the place, and he said no, but that he thought it was wrong to allow boys to camp there.”
“Well, he certainly has a nerve!” said Mr. Garrison. “That property doesn’t belong to him, and he has nothing to say as to what shall be done with it.”
“He wants it badly enough and as good as told me tonight that he will have it,” Mrs. Morganson said.
“He is very discourteous about it all,” frowned Barry’s father. “I stopped him tonight and asked him why he does not come to me. He said it is a free country and he prefers to go to you directly.”
Mrs. Morganson smiled a quiet smile. “Probably he thinks he can win me over, or even scare me. He is offering a very low price for the lodge, and I am not going to sell it at his figure. He knows the value of the property and could make a lot out of it, but I am not going to give my hunting lodge away. Now I’d like to hear Barry’s story.”
Barry told the owner of the hunting lodge what had happened while they had camped at Lake Arrowtip. “The only thing that we regret,” he finished, “is the fact that we did not catch the man after we saw him go into the tool shed. We feel that if we could have had a few days longer, we would have learned the secret of the place.”
“It is too bad that your short vacation came to an end when it did,” acknowledged the lady. “But I think you did a fine bit of work as it is. Of course, I have believed all along that some human being is doing this unpleasantness, and not any ghostly being. The mystery is, who is doing it and why?”
“Do you believe that Mr. Brand Curry is doing it to lower the value of the lodge?” Barry asked slowly. Mrs. Morganson smiled at his father as she shook her head.
“Your father and I have wondered about that, but we do not believe that it is so,” she said. “Mr. Curry is always here in town, and we cannot believe that the lodge is so dear to him that he keeps a sort of scare agent up there all the time. Just as soon as any party goes into the lodge, either in winter or summer, the annoyances begin. That would seem to indicate that whoever does it lives close by there all the time. We know that Mr. Curry is anxious to have the place, but so are three other business men who are offering better prices than Mr. Curry is.”
“It is all mighty queer,” Barry murmured. “Have you ever heard from your nephew since the letter came from Canada?”
“We have reason to believe that he is now in South America,” Mrs. Morganson said. “I believe that he was taken away from my property because he had discovered something that certain parties do not want known.”
“There was a Frenchman who disappeared at the same time,” Barry pressed. “What of him? Was he married?”
“Yes, he was married, and his wife was also working at the lodge when her husband left. Nothing has ever been heard of them since that time.”
For another half-hour they talked of the mystery, and then Barry and his father left. Nothing definite had been agreed to, though Mr. Garrison had expressed a desire to make a trip to Arrowtip himself and spend a night or two in the lodge alone. But Mrs. Morganson was not in favor of the idea.
“Let us wait until spring comes before we do anything else,” she advised. “It is so cold and disagreeable now. I will not rent it to anyone from now on, and when the warm weather comes we can have some more private detectives put on the case. Let’s not worry about it until later.”
Barry and his father went home and talked over the situation at length, and it was agreed between them that when spring came they would go to the lake, together with the other boys, and have another opportunity to match wits with the disturbing element of the hunting lodge.
School was not to begin before Tuesday, and on Monday morning Barry stood at the general desk in the local post office, writing out a card. No one else was in the place at the time except the two clerks back of the windows. While Barry was busily engaged, the door opened and a schoolmate named Charlie Black came in. He was a short, energetic young fellow with glasses and shrewd, laughing eyes, a great favorite at the high school, where he led in debates and any form of public speaking.
“Hello, little fellow!” Barry greeted, using the name most frequently applied to young Mr. Black. “Looking for a letter from your girl friend?”
“Hello, mystery hunter! No, I’m going to buy some stamps.” This having been taken care of, Charlie approached the desk and leaned on it.
“Say, I have some news that will knock your eye out!”
“Don’t tell it to me then, because I need all my eyes. You ought not go around with such dangerous news,” Barry grinned.
“Listen, Barry, this is great news. No fooling!”
“Well, why keep it to yourself? Let’s have it!”
“No school for about ten days!”
“Why?”
“Big flue from the furnace burned out, and they have to have a special new one made. Hurrah, what luck!”
Barry shook his head in pretended disgust. “It is plain to see that you’ll never amount to anything. Rejoicing because your opportunity to learn something is cut off. Your lack of wholesome ambition is pitiful!”
“Aw, listen, plaster saint, you’re just as tickled as I am! The difference between us is that I’m honest! Say, I have some more news!”
“Good night, you’ve got enough of it in you to explode! Get it out quick. What else happened?”
“Nothing yet, but it is going to happen. As soon as I heard that there wasn’t going to be any school for a while I thought it would be a dandy idea to have a straw ride. What do you say?”
“You mean hire a truck or wagon and a bunch of fellows and girls and go for a straw ride?”
“Sure. How else would you go on a straw ride?”
“Where will we go?”