CHAPTER XXII

THE GHOST AT THE CABIN

Miss Phillips had promised to take the first eight girls who qualified as second-class scouts on an overnight hike. She had decided to limit the number for two reasons--first, because the ground was still too damp to risk sleeping out of doors, and she had accepted the use of the boys’ cabin; and second, because she wanted to reward the more energetic scouts.

It was not until the last Friday in May that the required number finally qualified, and the Captain read the names and announced the hike for the first week end in June, which was only two weeks before school closed for the term. Besides Ruth, Doris, and Helen, who had all passed their test before the Spring holidays, Dorothy Maxwell, Lucy Graham, Ethel Todd, Edith Evans, and Ada Mearns were finally added to the number.

Miss Phillips dismissed the other scouts and dictated a list of articles for the girls to take with them. Then she divided the group into pairs, and assigned them their especial duties. Ruth was glad to be coupled with Doris, for whom she possessed a great admiration.

“Will we be allowed to go in swimming?” asked Ruth, after most of the arrangements had been concluded.

“If it is warm enough,” replied the Captain. “There is a creek just beyond the cabin, and the swimming is good all the way down to the dam--where Episcopal Academy is located, you know. So you can take your suits if you care to, and then we will test the water and see. If it’s as warm as it has been this week, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t--unless, of course, your parents would object to your going in on Sunday.”

“Do you suppose,” asked Doris a little timidly, “that we will see the ghost the boys talk about?”

Miss Phillips laughed. “Hardly!” she answered. “I thought of the possibility of the boys playing some sort of trick on you to scare you, so I mentioned the matter to Mr. Remington, and he promptly offered to take the whole troop over to visit another troop of scouts who have the use of a barn in a little town just outside of New York.”

“No, Captain, I meant a _real_ ghost! Of course I don’t believe in them, but----”

“But if you saw anything at night in the woods,” interrupted Ethel, “you wouldn’t just care about being alone?”

“Yes,” admitted Doris, “you know there _might_ be something spooky!”

“I wish something would happen!” exclaimed Ruth. “But I guess Captain Phillips killed any chance we had of that!”

Immediately after lunch the following Saturday, the girls met with their packs strapped in blanket-rolls and swung over their shoulders.

“Has anybody ever camped out before?” asked Miss Phillips as they started on their long hike.

“About eight of my Sunday School class crowded into one little cottage at the seashore,” said Ethel, “but that was the nearest I ever came to it.”

“Of course this won’t exactly be camping, for we shall not use tents. But everything else will be the same,” said the Captain, after some of the others had related experiences similar to Ethel’s.

Instead of first taking a train and then hiking the rest of the distance, the girls decided to hike the entire way. If they had been obliged to construct a lean-to, or even put up tents to sleep under, Miss Phillips would not have allowed it; but since the cabin was all ready for them, and there was even a fireplace to use for cooking, she thought that by this time they should be able to do it. And although they were somewhat tired when they finally arrived at their destination, no one considered the distance too far.

After each girl had unfastened her pack, and deposited her equipment in the section or corner to which she was assigned, Dorothy and Edith began to get supper.

“Who’ll go for water?” asked the latter, holding up two pails.

The girls groaned; everybody was too tired. But in a moment Ruth jumped up. “I will,” she said pleasantly.

“Thanks awfully,” said Edith, gratefully. “Do you want anybody to go with you?”

“No; it’s still light; and even if it weren’t, I wouldn’t mind meeting Doris’s ghost!”

Ruth ran out lightly, humming a song as she went. It was already twilight, and the gradual deepening of the shadows made the trees seem taller, and the absolute stillness increased the loneliness of the spot. “It _is_ a spooky place,” she thought as she looked about her. “I wonder who’ll come down to the spring to-night for water?”

The girls, who in accordance with scout principles, had refrained from eating while they were hiking, felt that they were almost starved; nothing ever tasted quite so good as the meal their cooks prepared for them. They ate hungrily, talking little at first; gradually, as their appetites were appeased, and their bodies became rested, they became more talkative. It was dark when they had finished.

After the mess-kits had been washed and put away, and the food stored in the closet, the girls stepped out of the cabin to take a look at their surroundings. But, unlike the night of the boys’ party, there was no moon, and the trees cut off so much of the sky that very few stars were in view. Everything looked black and forbidding.

Doris shuddered. “I’m glad I’m not here alone!” she whispered, afraid to break the deep silence of the woods. “Those Boy Scouts must be pretty brave.”

Suddenly a screech sounded from a distant tree. The girls started fearfully. “What was it?” asked Doris.

“Only an owl,” replied Miss Phillips, laughing.

They turned and entered the cabin, feeling that the light of the lanterns, though somewhat dim and ghostlike, was more reassuring than the darkness.

“Somebody will have to go for more water,” remarked Edith as the girls were sitting around the fire again, toasting marshmallows. “We used what we had for the dishes.”

“I’d rather go without a drink all night,” said Doris, “than go down to that spring!”

“How about getting washed?” asked Ruth.

“I’d rather go dirty!”

The girls discussed the proposition for several minutes until Miss Phillips interrupted them by saying:

“It is my fault, girls, for not appointing water-carriers; but I thought that since the spring is so near, it wouldn’t be necessary. So I’ll go myself!”

“Indeed, you won’t,” declared Ruth; “I’m not afraid a bit; I’ll go.”

“I don’t think you ought to go again, Ruth,” said Edith. “It doesn’t seem fair! But so long as you have offered, I’ll go with you. Only, I won’t pretend I’m not afraid. I am!”

“Then I’ll go alone!”

“I dare you to!” said Ethel.

“All right--I’ll take you up! I’ll go down with two pails, and when I get back, you do the same!”

“What is that queer noise?” asked Dorothy suddenly. “Listen!”

The girls sat perfectly silent, and a low singing and sighing, which at times sank almost to a moan, could be heard in the woods close by.

“Could it be two boughs rubbing each other?” asked Ruth. “I read about that happening once, and scaring some boys out of their wits.”

“No,” replied Miss Phillips, “there would have to be wind for that, and it’s perfectly still to-night. It sounds to me like some animal in distress.”

“A _wild_ animal?” asked Doris, fearfully. “Oh, let’s bolt the door, Captain!”

“No, no; probably a cat or a dog, whining. Let’s forget all about it. Suppose we sing a while.”

The girls did try to put aside all their fears, but Ruth and Ethel, although they would not admit it, dreaded for the time to come when the party should break up.

But the moment came all too soon. “Nine o’clock,” announced Miss Phillips, rising from her pillow on the floor. “Time for taps!”

The girls got up reluctantly and Edith brought Ruth her pails. The latter laughed gaily. “And now for the great adventure,” she said, as she opened the cabin door and stepped out into the darkness.

She took half a dozen steps, when she suddenly heard that weird sound from the direction toward which she was approaching. She stopped, breathless, and looked all around her. But, seeing nothing, she walked on, trying bravely to whistle.

Just as she was out of sight of the cabin, she saw a tall figure glide from one tree to another, and in an instant she heard the sound again. Her heart stood still. No mortal being had ever produced a sound like that. The boys were right: the spot _was_ haunted.

Ruth felt that, although she could now plainly see the spring, she could not go a step farther. She looked around again. The figure had vanished, and except for the occasional hoot of an owl or the croak of a frog, absolute silence prevailed. “It must have been my imagination,” she thought. She was naturally a brave girl, and added to this fact, she longed for the admiration of her companions; so she forced herself to press on and fill her buckets at the spring.

But she had hardly taken another step, before she heard the weird sound and saw the figure again. This time she saw it distinctly: it was perfectly white; even its face had the deathly pallor of the ghost. It did not seem to possess eyes, only hollow sockets; and by this Ruth was convinced that it was no earthly being.

By this time the girl was thoroughly frightened; she cared no longer for her water, or the approval of the other girls; she thought only of her safe return to the cabin. Seeing the figure approach noiselessly in her direction, she dropped her pails and ran as fast as she could to the cabin. She reached the door and flung it open.

The girls started forward in alarm.

“What is it, Ruth?” asked Doris, trembling.

As soon as Ruth could get her breath, she described her adventure. Suddenly she stopped. “Listen--there!” The sounds became fainter and fainter, and finally died in the distance.

Miss Phillips would not permit Ethel to go to the spring by herself; she and Dorothy both accompanied her. But when they got back, Doris and Edith testified that through the one window of the cabin, they had seen the figure flit by.

“The only thing we can do,” said Ruth, the last thing before she fell asleep, “is to compare notes with the boys who have seen the ghost--or whatever it is!” she added.