CHAPTER IX
DISMAL MOUNTAIN
"Well, Ned, I guess that's about all!"
"Unless you want to put in another piece of bacon," was Ned Newton's rejoinder to his chum's implied question.
The two were sitting in the House on Wheels, about a week after the sensational race with the freight train. In the intervening time much work had been done on the new invention. The motor was thoroughly gone over, tuned up, and minor adjustments made. The furnishing of the interior of the House was completed, from kitchen articles to bed linen, and the vehicle was now equipped for a long or short journey, as the owner desired. Ned's particular province was the pantry, and he had furnished it, as Tom said, "with enough grub to last a month."
Following another and more severe tryout of the machine after the freight train race, Tom had suggested to his chum that they go on a week's crosscountry tour to further test the House on Wheels under varying conditions.
"Have you any particular object in view?" asked Ned.
"Well, I thought maybe I'd surprise Mary," was the answer.
"Surprise her?" questioned Ned. "What do you mean?"
"We could call on the Winthrops where she is staying."
"Good idea. But where is it?"
"Just outside Chesterport."
"Chesterport!" exclaimed Ned, with every indication of excitement. "You mean Chesterport in this state?"
"Sure. Why not? What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing. Only—Well, say, what are you going to do after you surprise Mary in Chesterport?"
"After that we can keep on touring, if you like. We can go as far beyond Chesterport as you like."
"We won't have to go far," murmured Ned, and there was a strange look in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me before that Mary had gone to Chesterport?"
"I didn't attach any importance to it, for one thing," answered Tom. "And, for all I know, I may have mentioned it to you a dozen times."
"No you didn't, or I'd have remembered it."
"What did you mean by saying we won't have to go far beyond Chesterport?" asked Tom. "What's there of such importance?"
"It's queer you never heard of it," murmured Ned, looking over some papers he hastily took from his pocket.
"For the love of Pete! Heard of what?" cried Tom, a bit exasperated by his chum's curious manner.
"Dismal Mountain! The peak of mystery!" exclaimed Ned. "If you haven't made any other plans after you pay Mary a visit, what's the matter with keeping on to Dismal Mountain?"
"Nothing the matter, as far as I can see," admitted Tom. "But it is the first time I've ever heard of the beast and I'd like a little information. Why is the mountain dismal and what's the mystery about it?"
"It's dismal because of the mystery," was the reply. "And as for what that is, smarter lads than you have asked the question and haven't been answered."
"Oh, cut it out! Be yourself!" advised Tom, with a laugh. "Get down to brass tacks and let's have a little first hand information."
"That I can't give you, much as I'd like to," said Ned, with a serious air, not at all in keeping with Tom's bantering words. "All I know about Dismal Mountain is what I've heard or read, but that's plenty. I've made a few notes here, and——"
"I should say you had!" exclaimed Tom, looking at the documents his chum pulled from his pocket. "Looks like an election ballot."
"Well, they're mostly clippings from papers," went on Ned; "though I have made some notes myself of what folks have told me. Look here! Those are some newspaper clippings."
He spread a sheaf of them out on the table in the living room of the House on Wheels where this talk was taking place. The House was in the garage, but was all ready to run out at a moment's notice.
Tom saw that the clippings bore various heads, such as: "Dismal Mountain Smokes Again," "Dismal Mountain Claims Another Victim," and this appeared to be an account of a man who had disappeared somewhere in the fastness of the forest around the place.
"You don't need to read them all," advised Ned. "I can shorten it by summarizing it for you. Dismal Mountain is some distance south of Chesterport—just how far I don't know. It's in a lonely section of the country, away from any town or city, though there are people living not far from the foot of the mountain.
"Some of these folks say the mountain is haunted. Others hold that it is the resort of present-day moonshiners and bootleggers. I think that comes as near the mark as any. Another version is that the strange sights and sounds that are seen and heard are made by the moonshiners or bootleggers to scare would-be investigators away."
"I can well believe that," murmured Tom. "What else?"
"Well, there's another theory that a squad of bandits or road agents make the glens of Dismal Mountain their hiding places," went on Ned. "They lie in wait there and hold up trucks carrying big loads of valuable merchandise, such as bales of silk. There may also be hijackers on the mountain—men who make a practice of raiding the trucks sent out by bootleggers. Of course the latter being engaged in breaking the law themselves, can't call on the law to protect them. So the hijackers have it easy."
"Sounds like a right bad sort of a place," commented Tom.
"It's fully as bad as it sounds," declared Ned. "Not long ago, as you can see by this clipping, there was a train hold-up not far from Dismal Mountain. Some of the bandits are believed to have fled to that place and may still be in hiding."
"This is getting worse and more interesting!" exclaimed Tom Swift. "I only hope you aren't stringing me," he added, with a sharp look at his chum.
"Indeed I'm not kidding you!" expostulated Ned. "You can read it there for yourself. Of course I don't guarantee the truth of any of this, but if I'm fooled, so are the papers."
"It looks authentic," admitted Tom, when he had glanced through several clippings. "At least there have been a number of crimes committed in the vicinity of this Dismal Mountain, and it may hold the criminals."
"That's what I think," said Ned. "And when I heard just now for the first time that you are going to Chesterport, which is the nearest town of any size to the mountain, I thought it would be a good chance to visit the mysterious place."
"You're right!" exclaimed Tom. "I'm glad you mentioned this. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. It's queer I never heard about the mountain of mystery before, and yet it isn't a hundred miles away."
"It is only recently that all these stories became public," stated Ned. "Besides, you were so busy working on your talking pictures and since then on this House on Wheels that I don't blame you for not having heard of this Dismal Mountain."
"It's going to be just the thing!" cried Tom, his face lighting with pleasure. "With Mary away, I needed something to stimulate me and keep me from going stale. This will do the trick! Let's see if we can't run down this mystery!"
"I'm with you!" echoed Ned.
He was putting away his clippings and other information and Tom was going to ask about the roads to Dismal Mountain and the possibility of taking the House on Wheels when they heard a noise at the outer door of the garage where the new machine stood. Then the handle was cautiously tried.
"Look!" whispered Ned, touching Tom on the arm and pointing to the latch that was slowly being raised.