“I don’t know yet, but maybe to Potter’s Mill or some place where we can build a fire and cook some supper and then we’ll come on home. It’s a lot of fun!”
“I know, I’ve been on one before, only it was in the summer and not in the winter. What’s the matter with getting about three or four sleighs?”
“That’s a good idea. Will you and Kent and the twins come along?”
“I guess so. When are you going to have it?”
“As soon as we can. I’ve talked to a few seniors about it, and they are willing. Well, I must get on. I’m chairman, and of course that means all the work falls on me. Funny name, chairman, isn’t it?”
“Why?”
“Well, the chairman never gets a chance to sit down, and he doesn’t need a chair! Ought to call him something else. I’m on my way.”
“Wait a minute,” Barry requested. “Who made you chairman?”
“Why, I did!” was the unblushing answer.
“That’s what I thought, popgun! Go ahead and do your organizing and we’ll be with you.”
“All right, be careful crossing corners!” grinned the energetic Charlie Black as he fairly dashed out of the post office.
Barry followed more slowly, and as he strolled along the street his mind was busy with the contemplated straw ride and the mystery at Lake Arrowtip. At last he came to a stop, and his face brightened up.
“Of course!” he murmured. “Why not?”
Abruptly changing his course, he turned down a side street and was soon going up the walk to the home of Mrs. Morganson. He was readily admitted, and the lady received him in the parlor. Barry rapidly told her about the plans for the straw ride.
“What I want to ask you in particular, Mrs. Morganson, is this: may we ride up to the lodge and have our gathering there? I will personally guarantee that we will treat the place well, and it would not suffer any from our visit, and Coach Jordan and Mrs. Jordan will be with us, I’m sure. I think it would be a splendid place for us to have supper, and we could spend the night there.”
“I am not in the least afraid that you would damage the lodge,” Mrs. Morganson smiled. “Are you sure Coach and Mrs. Jordan will go with you?”
“Yes, ma’am, Coach Jordan and his wife always go with us, and I guess they will this time.”
“Certainly, you may use the lodge if they do,” Mrs. Morganson granted. “I’m just hoping you won’t have any trouble with that unknown person that you saw the last time you were there.”
“I hardly think we will,” Barry said. “But if we do, Kent and the twins and I will be on the lookout, and perhaps we can learn something more about him.”
A few minutes later Barry was on his way home, his mind busy with new thoughts and ideas. He was in a hurry to hunt up his chums and tell them of the latest events.
“This may be the very chance we have been looking for,” he reflected, as he walked briskly along. “The man always starts something when a crowd gathers in the lodge, and we’ll be there all night, if the bunch will agree to go to Lake Arrowtip. The four of us will be on the lookout for any such visit. I hope this will all work out as I want it to!”
After dinner that day Barry hunted up Kent and the twins and told them what he had in mind. They fell in readily with his plan and were enthusiastic regarding the delay in the opening of school.
“Too bad we didn’t know that before we came home,” Tim remarked. “We could have stayed on, and perhaps we would have run down the evil spirit of the lodge.”
“Yes, that’s so,” Barry agreed. “But this is the next best thing. As a matter of fact, it may work out better. Every time that a crowd goes to the lodge, something happens, and we may make the spook play right into our hands.”
“We’re taking quite a chance,” Kent shook his head. “I’m just wondering if the prowler comes out on the first night or if he waits for the second or third. We may not be troubled in any way.”
“I know it is a long chance,” Barry agreed. “But we won’t lose anything if nothing happens.”
“You say we ought to stay overnight,” Mac spoke up. “Will the bunch do it? They may not want to go to Bluff Lodge in the first place.”
“I’m going to see Charlie Black and try and make him enthusiastic,” Barry smiled. “Then he’ll get the others in the same frame of mind. I think we can work it.”
His chums having agreed to the program, Barry went to the home of the dashing Charlie, whom he found in his den. The popular high-school debater was practising on a cornet when Barry entered the room.
“Hi!” greeted the cornetist, hastily lowering the shining instrument. “Come in! But as the sign over the doorway to the lower regions says, ‘Abandon hope, all ye that enter here.’”
“I’ve abandoned all hope of hearing any real music,” Barry grinned. “What are you trying to blow that thing for?”
“Music,” was the brisk answer.
“You’re pretty good at chin music,” Barry replied. “I don’t see why you want to blow a horn. But that is neither here nor there. I came to see you about our straw ride.”
The cornet was tossed with unerring aim into a waste basket, where a pile of crumpled paper broke its fall. Charlie spun fully around in his chair.
“Listen! Fifteen of us are going, counting you and Kent and the Ford boys. There may be others, too. I’ll see Coach and Mrs. Jordan tonight and see if they’ll go along. How’s that for progress?”
“Wonderful!” Barry admitted. “You’re a great organizer, Charlie. Where are we going on this ride?”
“I still have Potter’s Mill in mind. What do you think?—Oh, that’s my dog. I call him Castor Oil!”
A large, flop-eared animal had come bounding into the den and jumped up on the leather couch where Barry was sitting. Before the boy could move, the dog had shot out a big red tongue and licked his face. Barry ducked and hastily brushed his hand over his cheek.
“Get down, Castor!” commanded Charlie, sternly, and the dog obeyed in a clumsy manner.
“What do you call him Castor Oil for?” Barry demanded.
“Because he is a big nuisance, follows me around and jumps on people. He’s about as welcome as Castor Oil. I don’t like to take him places. One day I was thinking up a name for him, and at the same time I was thinking that I didn’t like to take him around with me. I tried to think of something else I don’t like to take, and then the name just came by itself, somehow. Good name, eh?”
“Well, about the kind of name I’d expect you to give,” grunted Barry. “But to get back to business, how about taking our party up to Bluff Lodge, on Lake Arrowtip? It is a dandy place, and we could stay all night. I got permission from Mrs. Morganson to use the lodge, if we want to.”
“Humph! That’s the haunted house, isn’t it?”
“Well, the four of us camped in it a few days, and there is nothing the matter with us,” Barry replied.
“That sounds like a good place to go,” Charlie nodded, gently pulling the big ears of the dog with the questionable name. “What kind of a looking place is it?”
Barry described the lodge to him, and Charlie was enthusiastic. “Say, that will be a dandy place. Fireplaces and stoves and bedrooms and all. But we’d have to stay overnight, wouldn’t we?”
“Yes, but we wouldn’t mind that. Coach and Mrs. Jordan will be along, and there is plenty of room for us all. We can take enough for our supper and breakfast the following morning. How are you going to go?”
“In sleighs,” Charlie returned. “It is an easy matter to get hold of sleighs. Of course, it isn’t much of a straw ride when you take it in a sleigh. I’ve always thought of a straw or a hay ride as one where you go in a truck or a big wagon, with straw on the bottom.”
“It doesn’t make any difference,” said Barry. “As far as that goes, we can put straw on the bottom of the sleighs. So you agree to the lodge proposition?”
“Sure thing! You ask all of them you see if they’ll stay overnight, and I’ll do the same. We’ll make this a dandy outing. Say, want to hear a little music on my new cornet?”
“I don’t care. My nerves are in pretty good order today!”
“Castor Oil’s aren’t,” replied Charlie, as he took the instrument from the waste basket. “He howls every time I go at it.”
After leaving Charlie Black’s house Barry started home, intending to stop and see some of the boys who were going on the ride. As he came to a certain corner he heard the noise of an oncoming car, and as it was traveling at a fast pace, he paused on the curbing and let it rush past him. Glancing at the driver, he saw that it was Carter Wolf and one companion. They looked at him, but nothing was said, and the car passed on.
“So he is back from Rake Island,” Barry reflected, as he went on.
That night at the supper table Pearl spoke about the contemplated trip. “I hear that we are going to stay overnight at Bluff Lodge, Barry. Did you plan that?”
“Yes,” her brother nodded. “I didn’t know that anyone except seniors were going.”
“Just a few,” Pearl answered. “I’m one of the lucky ones. I hope we don’t see that black shadow or anything!”
“What is the idea of going up there, son?” Mr. Garrison asked.
“Two reasons, Dad,” his son replied. “One is that the place is ideal for an overnight trip, and another is that we hope to draw the man out and perhaps get a chance to nail him. The twins and Kent and I will be on the lookout.” He turned to his sister. “Pearl, please don’t tell anyone about that black shadow or anything else. We want the whole thing kept absolutely quiet so that we can do something if we get the opportunity.”
“I won’t breathe a word, Barry, and I’ll even try not to look scared,” his sister promised.
“That’s a big job for you boys.” Mr. Garrison shook his head, doubtfully.
“I’m afraid you’ll get hurt,” his mother worried.
“I don’t think so,” was Barry’s reply. “After all, nothing may happen. No one may come around. Besides that, Coach Jordan will be with us, and so will a number of the other fellows, so we ought not to have any difficulty.”
Plans for the straw ride went forward in a satisfactory manner. Charlie Black took it upon himself to see everyone who could possibly go from the upper class, and in the end sixteen of the young people of Cloverfield High School consented to go and spend a night at Bluff Lodge. Of these sixteen, nine were girls and seven of them boys. The other two members of the sleigh party were the popular football coach and his wife, both of whom were young and in sympathy with the fun of the young people. It had been agreed that each one was to bring a certain item of the provisions to be used on the trip, and at last everything was in readiness.
On the night before they were to start, the four chums attended a motion-picture show, and when they came out they were surprised to see that it was snowing. They halted outside the bulk of the crowd and waited for Charlie to join them. They had seen him wave from the steps of the theater.
“The little chairman wants us,” Kent remarked. “Let’s see what he has in mind now.”
“This snow will make our trip a pretty one, if it doesn’t get too deep,” Barry said, as they waited.
“It won’t turn into a blizzard,” Tim felt sure.
“What is all that arm-waving about?” Mac asked Charlie as he joined the group.
Charlie looked all around them in a mysterious way. “Have you fellows heard anything?” he asked.
“I’ve heard a whole lot of things, but maybe not what you mean,” smiled Barry. “What’s up?”
“Why, I heard that Carter Wolf and his crowd are going to try and break into our party, or break it up, or something. You know, there has been a lot of talking about our trip, and he heard it. He says he and some friends were shot at one night near that lodge, and that you fellows know very well that it is haunted.”
“Just the same, we’re not afraid to go up there,” Kent replied. “Somebody did shoot at him near the lodge, but it wasn’t us. I hope he doesn’t spoil our party by scaring any of the fellows or girls.”
“It won’t scare them,” Charlie cried. “They’ll only want to go all the more. But we had better keep our eyes open for any monkey business from Wolf and some of his bunch.”
“We will,” Barry promised.
On the following day the straw-ride party started for Bluff Lodge. The sleighs all came together at Kent’s house, and after they were all in their places, the procession started. In the foremost sled sat the chairman, and beside him, between Charlie and Barry, Castor Oil reared his big head.
“Couldn’t keep him at home,” Charlie explained. “I didn’t want to take him.”
It was a fairly long journey to the lodge, and so they started at noontime. By road it was much shorter than by going up the river. It was a clear, cold day, and they enjoyed the swift motion of the sleighs. Talk and laughter ran high, and they called jokingly from sled to sled. It was late in the afternoon and dusk was just spreading across the lake country when they emerged from the timber and came in sight of the lodge building.
“Hurrah, we’re here!” shouted Charlie, thumping Castor Oil, who barked in protest.
“So that is the haunted lodge?” a girl in the second sled cried. “I wonder if we’ll see the ghost!”
Barry jumped from the sled and took out the keys while the others were dismounting from the sleighs. Tim and Mac lifted a large oil can from the vehicle they had come in. The others stood in the snow and stamped their feet, glad to move about once more after sitting so long. Coach Jordan helped some of the boys tie the horses to the back-porch rail.
The sun had gone down in an angry red haze, and the darkness was spreading rapidly, accompanied by a cold that nipped and penetrated them. Although they knew that the lodge would be cold, the visitors were glad to follow Barry and the twins inside. Kent made a quick trip around the big log building to see if everything was all right, and he returned satisfied.
The twins lighted the lamps that were already in the big living room, and in the meantime Barry collected some wood, soaked it with oil, and touched the flame of a match to it. After the flames were leaping up the chimney he got some coal and put it on the burning wood. The room began to get warm slowly.
The girls and boys roamed around admiring the place, and at last they began to take off coats and hats as the room warmed up. From the living room Kent and Barry moved into the two bedrooms and lighted fires in them, so that they would be able to stay there all night without discomfort. Soon the grates in those rooms were glowing and the lodge had become comfortable. They decided to do their cooking in the kitchen, and accordingly a fire was kindled in the big range there. This was something more of a task because the stove was rusty and clogged with ashes and tin cans, left by some careless and untidy campers. The boys cleaned the stove out, and after this was done, the fire burned well.
Some of them favored using the dining room, but the majority vote was that they eat in the living room, by the light and warmth of the large grate there. All of them were hungry, and so the girls took charge of the supper preparation under the expert leadership of Mrs. Jordan. The boys sat in the living room with the coach and chatted about winter sports. In a very short time the delightful smell of things cooking reached them. The coach smiled as he heard the murmurs of appreciation.
“That’s a tempting smell, boys,” he said. “This Lake Arrowtip air is a great hunger-producing tonic!”
“We found it that way,” Tim grinned.
Charlie was seldom able to sit still long at a time, and he bounded off to the kitchen, followed by the faithful Castor Oil. Before long he was back, rigged out in an apron and a paper hat, obviously in the capacity of a waiter. Disregarding the jokes of the boys, he began to set things in order for supper.
It seemed to the hungry boys that the meal was a long time coming, but the girls declared with spirit that it hadn’t taken much time except to those who sat around waiting for it. The time finally came when they were all sitting close to the fire eating steak and potatoes, talking and enjoying themselves. All lamps had been put out, and only the red glow of the fire illuminated the room. But by this time the fire was a solid mass of glowing coals, and a sufficient light was rendered for all. Their shadows clustered on the wall back of them.
“And you four boys camped here for a few days, just like this?” a senior girl asked the four chums. “Wasn’t it delightful?”
“We enjoyed it,” Kent nodded. “We weren’t here all the time, though. At first we camped over in that smaller cabin that you could see as we drove up.”
“What made you leave it?” Mrs. Jordan asked.
This was getting close to things that the boys did not want to reveal, but before Kent could answer, Barry broke in. “That little cabin was cold, and the floor was hard to sleep on,” he said. “Then one night a limb dropped on the roof and scared us quite a bit, so we decided to move in here. Tim and Mac did the moving, and Kent and I got lost in a storm that day.”
“But what about all the ghost stories we hear?” another girl asked. “Is there a ghost around?”
“Pretty cold for a ghost,” Barry smiled. “We’ve been here two hours or more and haven’t heard anything yet.”
“I hope we don’t!” said another girl, looking around the room uneasily.
“It will be all right,” Charlie Black assured her. “We’ll let Castor Oil loose all night and he’ll sic the ghost. He’s a fine sic-er!”
“The spook will run if he ever finds out the dog’s name!” said Mac, amid a general laugh.
“Coach, how about telling us a good ghost story tonight?” Bill Jefferson asked. “The atmosphere is just right.”
“The atmosphere is all right,” the athletic instructor smiled. “But I’m afraid of some nerves around here. I know a ghost story wouldn’t bother the boys, but I don’t want to upset the girls.”
But the girls themselves begged him to tell at least one after the meal was over, and at length he agreed to do so. Coach Jordan was a good story teller, and many times he had spun some lively yarns while on overnight hikes with the boys of Cloverfield. He excelled in creepy mystery stories, and the young people looked forward with eager anticipation to a good one after supper.
“How about some boy volunteers to dry dishes?” Pearl asked, as they got up to carry plates back to the kitchen. “We did all the work of preparing supper. I know that most of you boys camp out, so you must know how to wash and dry dishes!”
“How about letting Castor Oil lick all the plates and then drying them over the stove?” Charlie shouted, but an indignant chorus of voices answered him, and he went off chuckling.
“All right, the men will take charge of the kitchen from now on,” cried Coach Jordan. “No ladies allowed out there except to bring your plates.”
“That’s the spirit!” commended Ruth Carrier, the leader among the high-school girls. “We’ll start to toast some marshmallows for you.”
“Agreeable all around,” Kent nodded, and the boys took over the kitchen work, while the girls went back to the living room to toast the marshmallows.
Mr. Jordan and Kent did the washing, and the other boys dried the dishes. After a time they looked around for a pail to put scraps in, but there was none in the kitchen. Barry seized a lantern.
“I think I remember seeing one in the tool house,” he said, as he opened the back door. “I’ll be right back.”
The horses tied to the rail of the porch moved restlessly as he passed by them on his way across the board platform. Fodder had been brought for them, and as soon as the dishes were dried the boys planned to move the horses to a big shed back of the lodge which served as a combination barn and garage. Barry arrived at the tool house and went inside, peering around in the feeble light from the lamp. At the far end of the place he saw a tin can.
“There it is. I thought I remembered seeing it in here. This is just—— Ouch!”
He had tripped on something, and he flashed the light down to see what it was. He was close beside the bale of hay that stood there, and as he examined the floor he saw that it was slightly raised. This interested him, and he put his hand down and pulled the raised boards toward him. To his surprise several of them came up a few inches.
“What the dickens is this? Why——”
With a single motion of his arm he pushed the bale of hay aside and stared at the floor. A long trapdoor was revealed, and with trembling fingers he raised it, looking down into a deep well of darkness. A pair of wooden stairs ran down to the floor of a passage.
“An underground passage!” Barry breathed. “Now I’m beginning to see a few things!”
For several seconds he stood staring down into the tunnel, remembering how the black shadow had disappeared from the interior of the shed. Many conflicting thoughts crowded his mind, and his impulse was to go down and explore the passageway. But the severe cold made him think better of it, and, closing the trap and replacing the hay, he picked up the tin container he had come to get and went back to the lodge.
“I’ll get my hat and coat on and get some of the boys to go with me,” he thought, as he opened the kitchen door and went in.
Coach Jordan and his helpers were nearly finished. Barry left the can and went into the living room, picking up his coat and hat. Kent and the twins were not around at the time, and so Barry slipped out of the front door alone. His chums were in the bedroom attending to the fire there.
“I’ll just take a peek along that corridor myself,” he decided, feeling in his pocket for his flashlight and noting with satisfaction that it was there. “Then maybe I’ll take the whole crowd for a tour of it, providing it is safe to do so!”
Arriving once more in the tool house, he moved the bale of hay aside and raised the trapdoor, listening keenly before making a descent into the newly found passage. No sound came to him as he stood in perfect silence, and at last, thinking that it was safe to proceed, he turned on the beam of his light and carefully walked down the steps. There were seven steps, and when he reached the bottom he turned the light down the tunnel. He had closed the door of the opening and now stood alone under the earth.
The passage was long and sloped away farther than the shaft of light would reveal. With a rapidly beating heart he began to advance, walking slowly and quietly, his eyes alert and his nerves drawn tight. The thought came to him that he was drawing farther and farther away from his companions and that he ought to go back and get some of them, but the impulse to go on was too strong, and he kept advancing.
The tunnel was well made. He was able to walk upright and had to bend low only at one place where a tree root broke through and crossed the underground way. It was a dry place and not very cold. The sides of the tunnel had been carefully cut, and it seemed to him that it had been built for some definite purpose.
“But what can it be for?” he wondered. “Does Mrs. Morganson know that it is here? Maybe I’ll know more about it all when I get to the end.”
The end was near. He could see some boards before him, and a few moments later he stopped, playing the beam of the light against the boards that closed the tunnel. They seemed to be fairly new ones, and they simply fitted into the soil. He put out his hand to push against them and then thought better of it, pausing to listen once more, his flashlight out. The blackness seemed to crush in on him.
“No telling what is on the other side of that boarding. If I can’t push it open, I’ll go back and get the others.”
No sound came to him, and so he again turned on the light and then pushed against the partition. To his astonishment it turned outward like a door, and his light showed him the interior of a small shed. Stepping through and closing the boards after him, he was surprised to see that it was on hinges and formed part of the wall of the small building in which he found himself. There were two windows and a door to the place, but otherwise the interior was perfectly bare. A conviction came to him.
“By George, this is the quarry shed where Kent and I saw the man with the black gloves go in! No wonder no one answered our knocks and kicks. The man had gone up the tunnel to the lodge, and when we got over that way, we saw him run into the tool house! I’m learning so much that it makes me dizzy!”
He opened the door of the quarry shed and stepped out. The wind, coming in from a break in the rock wall, had swept the snow away from the door, and the ground was hard and the snow at that particular place hard-packed. He closed the door and looked around. It was much the same as it had been the night he and Kent had stood there demanding shelter, except that the snow was not driving. He wondered where the black shadow came from, and he began to wander toward the far end of the quarry. For a while he did not use his light, and it was not until he was at the very base of the quarry wall that he flashed the light around. There was nothing to be seen.
“No house or anything down at this end,” he reflected, turning. “I’d better go the other way.”
Then his eyes fell on a figure crossing the bowl of the quarry, and instinctively he crouched down. It was the same black-clothed figure that they had seen once before, and the man went boldly into the quarry shed. Barry watched him with wildly beating heart.
“There he goes now!” he breathed. “On his way to the lodge to start something, I’ll bet! And as sure as I’m a foot high, he’ll discover that someone has been in his tunnel! Then what will happen?”
The boys who remained in the kitchen helping Coach Jordan with the dishes were not long in finishing the job. Kent and the coach did the washing, and as fast as they turned out the dripping, steaming plates, the other boys snatched them up and dried them. There was a lot of good-natured fun about it all, and it was plainly to be seen that the boys from Cloverfield were enjoying the whole trip.
Coach Jordan kept them interested by his description of his travels and experiences, and at the time that Barry left the room on his way to the tool house he was telling of the days when he was a member of the great Fordson camp in the mountains of Kentucky. His account of the road-building and forest-ranging in the dense timber of the Southern upland was of great interest to the boys, and they laughed heartily at some of the rough experiences that he had encountered while staying in mountain log cabins and having to get up at three o’clock and shave with well water on frosty mornings. He told them of the great salt kettles rusting away in the mud of the little town that was at the time the shipping point for the Ford lumber and coal, a town which had at one time supplied all of the blue-grass state with salt. The boys listened with great attention.
“What’s the difference between those mountains and these?” Tom Bailey asked.
“These mountains are pretty well known,” the coach replied. “The people in them have been in contact with civilization for a long time, and tourist and the summer camper have come into them frequently. But in the Kentucky mountains we find an arrested civilization, and by that I mean that people poured into its hollows and gaps and then progress jumped clear over them and kept going west, while the mountaineer remained the same as he had been in the time of the Revolution. I have frequently seen old mountain women working the old-time spinning wheel, and many of them smoke a pipe all the time.”
Kent had finished his work, and after drying his hands he went into the nearest bedroom to see how the fire was. Finding that it needed coal, he seized a bucket and flashlight and went out to get some. When he returned he met the twins in the hall.
“Here you are,” Mac exclaimed. “We were wondering what had become of you.”
“Just lugging in some coal,” Kent explained. He entered the bedroom and began to fix the fire. “What are the girls doing?”
“They have toasted some marshmallows that melt right in your mouth,” Tim replied.
“That’s where you want ’em to melt. Sounds like you have had some.”
“We did,” Mac admitted. “Now that the dishes are done, we can all have some.”
“Where is Barry?” Tim asked.
“I don’t know,” Kent answered, straightening up. “The last I saw of him, he had gone out to the tool house to get a pail. I suppose he is in the kitchen now.”
“I wonder if anything will happen tonight,” Mac said, in a low tone.
“I don’t know, but we are going to keep our ears and eyes open,” Kent told him. “If anything does happen, we want to be on the job. Well, let’s get back in the living room.”
They found all the young people gathered around the fire, and Coach Jordan and Bill Jefferson were taking off their hats and coats. “We put the horses in the barn,” the coach explained. Then he rubbed his hands and held them close to the fire. “After being out there, this heat feels good.”
Kent and the twins looked around the room. “Anybody seen Barry?” Kent asked.
Everyone looked around, and then one by one they shook their heads. “He brought that pail in and then left the kitchen,” Charlie announced.
“He came in here and took his hat and coat,” one of the girls remarked. “Then he went out into that hall toward the front door.”
The twins exchanged troubled glances, and Kent glanced involuntarily at Pearl, who looked suddenly alarmed. “Too bad Pearl knows anything about this place,” Kent thought. But he spoke carelessly: “Oh, well, he’ll be right back. Let’s have some of those marshmallows. What happened to those black ones?”
“Fell in the fire,” Jennie Morrison explained. “But they’ll taste just as good as the others. They are just like some people, rough outside and sweet inside!”
“Jennie is becoming quite a philosopher,” laughed Mrs. Jordan. “Tell us some more!”
The girl laughed. “I can toast marshmallows better than I can give you philosophy,” she said.
The talking went on in a good-natured way, but not all of them were joining in it. The three mystery hunters were quiet, and Pearl frequently looked at Mac, and she was plainly uneasy. Finally Mac leaned over to Tim.
“Listen, I don’t like the looks of things,” he whispered. “Barry has been gone a long time. Suppose you go into the kitchen and look around. If you don’t see anything, I’ll go out on the front porch.”
“What excuse will I give for going out?” Tim asked.
“You don’t need—well, there isn’t any water in here, and there is some in the kitchen. Go ahead.”
Tim nodded and got up from the footstool upon which he had been sitting. “These marshmallows are powerful sweet,” he smiled. “I’m going to get a pitcher of water and some glasses.”
“That’s a good idea,” the coach approved.
Tim took his flashlight and hurried to the kitchen. They had brought some large containers of drinking water with them, and just now this afforded him a convenient excuse for leaving. But as soon as he arrived in the kitchen he put out the light and walked across the room to the back door. He turned the key and looked out.
All was quiet, and no one was around. He walked out on the porch and looked around the open clearing. The night was fairly dark, but because of the bright blanket of snow he was able to make out near-by objects. Barry was nowhere to be seen. Tim returned to the house, locked the kitchen door, and proceeded to pour some water in a pitcher by the light of his flash. When he had obtained some glasses he went back to the living room.
Mrs. Jordan was reciting a humorous poem, and most of them paid little or no attention to Tim as he came back. But Pearl scanned his averted face anxiously and saw at once that he had not found her brother. Mac and Kent read the same answer.
Nothing was said, and at last Mac began to work his way toward the hall door. Tim had passed him the flashlight, and with this in his back pocket he gradually moved over to the door that led into the front room. While the others were busy laughing at a joke that Charlie had told, Mac slipped out of the door. Few of them saw him go, and no one asked any questions.
As soon as he got into the big square hall Mac turned on the beam of the light and hastily played it all around the box-like place. Barry was not there, and for a moment Mac trained the light on the stairs leading to the loft. He wondered if his chum had gone up there, but at last he shook his head. The popular leader of Cloverfield High School had put on his hat and coat, and that clearly indicated that he had gone out-of-doors. For a moment Mac hesitated. He was not prepared to go out into the snow, and to go back and get his outer clothing would excite suspicion at once.
“And yet,” he reflected, “the bunch is soon going to know that Barry has disappeared. If he doesn’t get back soon, we’ll have to go and look for him. We can’t fool them much longer. Pearl is getting more and more uneasy every minute. Hang it all, maybe we’re wasting valuable time. I’ll look outside, and if I don’t see him, I’m going back and get my hat and coat and go out and hunt for him.”
He stepped out onto the front porch and walked to the edge, looking around toward the back of the lodge. No one was in sight, and then he glanced out over the lake, dim in the light of the stars and the white border of the dark timbered sides. At once his eyes narrowed as he saw signs of movement on the ice sheet of the lake. Something bulky and black shot out onto the ice, and two figures leaped from it and began to push it ahead of them. As Mac stared without comprehension, another bulky object shot out from the bank onto the ice. The Ford boy gasped and clenched his fists.
“Our sleighs! Somebody is shoving them out onto the lake! Of all the——”
A voice, low-pitched and yet penetrating, reached him, coming in from the lake. “Don’t send the other one down until I tell you! I want to get this one out of the way first!”
A great light dawned upon Mac. “Carter Wolf and his gang!” he breathed, as he turned and raced softly back to the front door. “Running off with our sleighs! Going to hide them so we’ll have to hike home! We’ve got to put a stop to that!”
Throwing all caution to the winds, the twin rushed through the hall and flung himself into the living room, startling them all and very nearly knocking one girl over. His staring eyes and excited manner alarmed them all and caused particular apprehension on the part of those who knew anything about the history of Bluff Lodge.
“Listen!” he said, before anyone could speak. “Somebody is pushing our sleighs out on the ice and taking them off to hide them. I’m sure it is Carter Wolf and his bunch! If we don’t want to walk home tomorrow, we’d better get out there in a big hurry!”
A medley of cries of surprise and indignation came in answer to his rapid announcement, and everyone sprang up in consternation. Coach Jordan seized his coat and hat.
“Come on, boys,” he cried. “We’ll have something to say about this!” He turned to his wife. “You take care of the girls, Dorothy. Better not go out!”
The boys were ready, and like a pack of hornets they dashed out of the front door on the heels of Coach Jordan. Kent sprinted in the lead because he knew the country better, and he led them across the clearing toward the Bronson cabin. They had left the sleds in front of that building when they had tied the horses to the back-porch rail.
All of the sleighs were gone, and Mac led them down the slope toward where he had seen the sleighs slide out on the ice. They expected to find the vehicles scattered and the raiders gone. But to their astonishment they heard voices and saw a dark mass at the edge of the lake shore.
“Keep his head above water!” a voice cried out. “We’ll try to pull this sleigh out. Keep a stiff upper lip, Carter!”
“Get—get me out!” a voice gasped. “I told you not to let that sleigh go until I told you to!”
By this time the boys and the coach had arrived on the spot, and Mac’s flashlight showed the scene before them. One of the sleighs was turned sideways, and another had run into it and was partly sunk under the ice. Caught under a runner, and immersed in water to his chin, was Carter Wolf. The sleigh had broken the ice, and he had gone in with a splash. The sleigh runner had pushed in on top of him and was pressing against his chest, while his five friends worked frantically to hold his head above water and at the same time to pull the winter conveyance back out of the break in the ice.
“What happened here?” the coach cried, as they took in the scene.
“These f-f-fellows let a sleigh come down the hill b-be-before I had moved the other one out of the way,” Wolf answered, with chattering teeth. “The ice was thin here and——” In his effort to talk he slipped slightly and swallowed some icy water.
“Keep perfectly still,” the athletic coach commanded. “We’ll get you out.” He lay down flat on the ice and passed his gloved hands under Wolf’s armpits, feeling the shock of the cold water. It was a position of extreme peril for Coach Jordan if the ice broke away, but he did not allow his mind to dwell on the thought. “Now, the rest of you boys draw that sleigh up out of the hole.”
The girls had followed and now stood on the shore, silent except for a few low-voiced exclamations, their faces white as they saw what had happened. Mac sprang up the bank and pressed his flashlight into Mrs. Jordan’s hand.
“Keep this trained on us, please,” he requested, and then he was back with the others, lending a hand.
The sleigh was a big one and had considerable weight to it, but by their united efforts they managed to move it backward. Coach Jordan had considered using some of the horses, but time was pressing, and he knew that Wolf must be rescued as soon as possible. The boys pulled and tugged steadily, and the sleigh was finally drawn up on the bank and off of the ice.
“Now, two of you come here!” the coach called. “Only two, and come around in a circle back of me so as not to put too great a strain on the ice!”
Two of Wolf’s companions quickly and carefully circled around the gaping hole and made their way to the coach. His friends were quiet and obviously frightened by the recent events. Also, they were quite willing to help, and although somewhat afraid to trust the ice, they knelt beside the athletic instructor and helped him lift Carter Wolf out of the icy waters of Lake Arrowtip.
“Two of you boys race to the lodge and get some blankets,” Jordan directed.
Tim started on the jump. “Come on, Mac,” he cried, and his brother joined him at once.