Part 4

“Girls,” she began, “we had planned a hike to Indian Falls this morning, but it will be necessary to make a change.”

A chorus of groans met this announcement, for the girls had looked forward to the outing and outdoor cookery.

“However, we have other interesting plans,” the director went on quickly. “The Civil Air Patrol has notified me that it can make a plane available for the first-aid and exploration excursion I mentioned earlier. But today is the only time the Service will be able to cooperate. Accordingly, we’ve decided to go ahead. All patrols desiring to compete, should sign up at once. Your counselors will provide full details.”

The girls were informed that at ten o’clock all competing patrols would hike a quarter of a mile to Flat Top, an area relatively level and clear of trees.

According to the plan, a Civil Air Patrol plane would fly over the section to drop a message which would give Scouts notification of a fake plane crash. The general location of the accident likewise would be given. Starting with equal information, the units were expected to separate and compete in trying to be the first to reach the designated locality.

Once there, the Scouts were to give first aid treatment to the imaginary victims, and proceed exactly as if the accident were a real one. Three girls from the Garden City Patrol had volunteered to act as the injured passengers of the plane crash. Notes would be pinned to their clothing, stating the nature of their supposed injuries.

Kathleen, Judy, Betty and Beverly teamed up as one exploring unit, representing Beaver Patrol. Ardeth and Virginia decided not to enter the competition, preferring to remain behind to search for a suitable wild pet to add to the treasure box collection.

Shortly after ten o’clock, the representatives of seven patrols were encamped on the table top, anxiously scanning the sky for a glimpse of the expected plane. All the girls had dressed sensibly in heavy shirts, slacks and stout climbing boots. Faces and necks were protected from the sun, but even so, the rays bore fiercely down upon their backs as they sat impatiently waiting.

“Won’t that plane ever come?” Beverly fretted, wiping perspiration from her neck. “We’ve been here an age now!”

“Only ten minutes,” Kathleen corrected.

“Well, it seems a year. Maybe there’s been a mix-up about plans,” Beverly went on. “I wish I’d stayed in camp. This trip will be hard and tiring.”

“Good experience though,” Judy said, continuing to scan the azure, almost cloudless sky. “It will be a test of skill to find our way to the right place, administer first aid, make improvised litters and carry our victims to help.”

“I hope we’re the first to get there,” Kathleen declared. “So far, Beaver Patrol hasn’t shown up too well in the camp competitions. That’s because all of the girls haven’t been together, especially in the evening. This is our chance.”

Judy suddenly sprang to her feet. She had been the first in the group to sight the Civil Air Patrol plane winging in from the east.

“Here it comes!” she cried. “They’ll be dropping a message in a moment. Watch sharp!”

All of the patrols now were alert and ready. The Scouts who had equipped themselves with field glasses, trained them on the approaching plane.

Its wings flashing in the sunlight, the ship came in low enough for the girls to see the forms of the pilot and his passenger. Three times the plane circled the tableland. Then on the fourth trip over, the message tube was dropped.

It missed the open table top by twenty feet, landing amid the trees and brush just below where the Beaver Patrol girls had taken their stand.

“Come on,” Judy shouted, starting off at a run. “I saw where it dropped!”

There was a mad scramble to see who would be the first to reach the message tube. According to the rules of the competition, the directions, once read, could not be kept, but must be left behind for other patrols.

Plunging through the underbrush, Judy was the first to seize upon the shining metal tube. As she opened it to remove the message which had been folded within, Beverly, Kathleen and Betty crowded close to read the directions.

“Plane crash at 9:48 a.m. on Hermit’s Ridge,” Kathleen discerned the writing. “Three passengers in need of help.”

“Hermit’s Ridge!” Beverly explained. “Where is that?”

Judy already was consulting her map of the region.

“You might know it’s a difficult climb from here!” she exclaimed. “We have several choices of a route. We can take the short, hard climb--no trail. That way, it looks to be approximately a mile and a half from here.”

“What are the other choices?” Kathleen questioned.

“We can follow the main highway three quarters of the way, and then make a short climb on Lone Pine Trail. Our third choice is to descend from here to Rocky Point Path and keep on it all the way.”

“I’m for taking the shortest route even if it will mean a harder climb,” Beverly said at once. “Let’s go!”

“Hold on,” Judy directed, continuing to study the map. “I’m in favor of the road myself. It may be longer, but it’s a lot faster, easier walking most of the way.”

“Furthermore, we may be able to catch a ride part of the distance,” Kathleen added. “That would be within the rules. The patrol wins that gets first to Hermit’s Ridge and accomplishes its first aid mission.”

“I’m in favor of the road too,” Betty Bache asserted, siding with Kathleen and Judy. “The various choice of routes is a test of judgment as well as endurance.”

Leaving the message for the other patrols to read, the four girls quickly descended rugged terrain to the paved highway.

“I think we’re making a mistake,” Beverly insisted, shifting her first-aid kit to a more comfortable carrying position. “Not many cars pass on the road at this time of day. The distance is much longer.”

“We can dog-trot part of it,” Judy said, beginning to lope along. “Anyway, we’re well out ahead of the others!”

“I can see another group starting out,” Beverly reported looking back. “They chose the short, hard way.”

“Since we’re out ahead, that might be their only chance to beat us,” Betty reasoned. “I still think we chose the better, faster route.”

Alternately, the girls dog-trotted twenty steps and then walked the same number. In that manner, they did not tire so easily or lose breath.

The road wound on through the forest in dips and sharp ascents. They kept going, ignoring the heat of the sun and their own increasing weariness.

“I’m glad we didn’t take the hard climb,” Judy commented as she and Kathleen paused a moment to wait for Betty and Beverly to catch up. “The going will be tough enough before we reach Hermit’s Ridge.”

At the next sharp bend in the highway, the Scouts were able to look down at the table top some distance below. Not a single patrol seemed to have followed them.

“I knew it!” Beverly exclaimed. “All the others have taken the shorter routes!”

“Let them,” Judy replied cheerfully. “It hasn’t been proven yet that our judgment was poor. We’ve been making fast time.”

“We haven’t caught that ride yet,” Beverly reminded her. “Not a single car has passed us on the road. And we’ve met only one truck.”

Resting only momentarily, the four went on, doggedly determined to be the first to reach Hermit’s Ridge. Soon they lost all view of their competitors who had been swallowed up by the dense forest foliage.

“Say, I think I hear a truck coming now!” Betty presently exclaimed. She paused to cock an attentive ear. “Wow! It’s coming fast, burning up the road!”

“We’ll never flag down that driver!” Judy exclaimed, moving hastily off the pavement.

The heavy freight carrier roared past the girls, its massive tires screaming as it went around a bend.

“What does that driver think this road is--a speedway?” Beverly demanded. “Why, it’s dangerous--”

The four hikers halted abruptly, frozen by the fearful sound of screeching brakes. They could not see beyond the next sharp curve, but the sickening thud was unmistakable. The speeding truck had missed its turn and had skidded off the road!

_Chapter 8_

VALUABLE CARGO

Rounding the bend at a run, the four Scouts saw that the big truck had missed plunging over the ravine by mere inches.

The heavily loaded vehicle had skidded wildly, bringing up at a sharp angle against a rocky embankment. Shattered glass lay on the pavement.

Judy was the first to reach the tilted truck cab. She could not at first get the jammed door open, but suddenly it gave, swinging back so hard, she nearly was thrown off balance.

The driver was slumped over the wheel, stunned and bleeding from flesh cuts. He was a heavy-set man with a beak-like nose and square jaw which sagged to give him a stupid appearance. His eyes were glazed and unseeing.

The only other occupant of the truck, a thin man with two front teeth missing, sprawled half off the seat, moaning and using foul language.

“My neck!” he screamed. “It’s like killing me! Don’t stand there! Do something! Get a doctor!”

He pulled himself out of the cab, pushing angrily at Kathleen when she tried to help him. Despite the rebuff she took his arm to steady him.

“Don’t touch me! Get away!” he screamed, staggering. Kathleen caught a whiff of his breath then and knew that he had been drinking. She noted that his right arm hung limp and that the right shoulder was much lower than the left. He had grasped it at the elbow to provide support.

“You can’t raise your arm above your shoulder, can you?” she demanded. “Your collar bone must be fractured.”

“So what?” the trucker demanded savagely. He leaned weakly against the truck, ignoring her efforts to be of help.

Meanwhile, Judy, Beverly and Betty had devoted their attention to the truck driver, who appeared in more serious condition than the disagreeable passenger.

Carefully, they stretched him out flat on the cab seat.

“He may be only stunned,” Judy said anxiously. “The first thing is to get the blood stopped. No artery has been cut fortunately.”

The blood came from two facial cuts and a wrist which had been slashed by flying glass. Judy removed a tiny splinter of glass from the latter wound, treated the cut with antiseptic, placed a compress over the opening and bandaged it tightly.

That job done, the girls bandaged the driver’s face, noting with relief that he seemed to be recovering from shock. Now and then he moaned in pain as they worked deftly and efficiently, but for the most part he eyed them silently.

Kathleen, on the other hand, was having a most trying time with her patient, who refused to cooperate. He would not lie down or let her examine his neck.

“I can’t do anything with him,” she whispered to Judy. “I’m sure he has a fractured collar bone. But what to do about it? He’s acting like a maniac.”

“Delirious?”

“He’s just a mean character,” Kathleen muttered in an undertone. “I’m sort of scared.”

“Scared? Why?”

“He has a revolver in his back pocket.”

“Maybe he carries it to protect the cargo,” Judy replied. “Let’s see what we can do about that collar bone.”

Moving over to the sullen trucker, who stood leaning against the tilted vehicle, she addressed him quietly but firmly.

“You’ll feel more comfortable if you sit or lie down. We’ll help you--”

“I don’t want any help.” The trucker’s lips parted in an ugly snarl which revealed his missing front teeth. “You got a car?”

“No, we’re Girl Scouts on a hike.”

“Girl Scouts! A lot of help you’ll be!”

Judy ignored the sarcasm, noting how limply the trucker’s right arm hung.

“We can help,” she insisted. “Your collar bone has been broken, I think.”

“So what?” the trucker demanded belligerently. “I’m worried about this truck. We can never move it out of this--have to abandon it.”

“You should be able to get a wrecker from the village. Now about that collar bone--”

“Forget it, I said.” The man’s gaze roved toward the cab of the truck where Betty and Beverly were covering the driver with coats.

“Is Joe done for?” he demanded with cold rather than friendly concern.

“He’s more stunned than hurt, I think,” Judy replied.

“Can’t he make it on his own pins? We gotta get out o’ here.”

“He shouldn’t try to walk. We’ll bring help to you as fast as we can. First, though, you must take a sensible attitude and let us wrap that collar bone. You’ll be far more comfortable until we can get you a doctor.”

“Okay,” the trucker suddenly consented. “Make it snappy though, and don’t hurt me or I’ll bash you in! I ain’t in no mood to be worked over by amateurs.”

Having cajoled the man into a more cooperative mood, Judy went quickly to work. With Kathleen helping, she utilized a triangular bandage as a sling for the right arm, tying it snugly to the side of his body with a cravat bandage.

“Humph!” the trucker muttered, not displeased as he surveyed the finished job. “Not too bad.”

“The important thing now is to get you both to a doctor,” Judy said briskly. “Cars pass rather infrequently on this road. Kathleen and I will go for help while Beverly and Betty stay here to do what they can.”

“You’ve done enough now,” the trucker returned. “Thanks, kids! Now all of you beat it--on your way.”

“We’ll have a wrecker sent,” Judy went on, gathering up her first aid equipment.

“Don’t bother.”

“But we’ll be glad to do it,” Judy insisted. “It’s part of our Scout training to help when we can.”

“Yeah? Cut out the chatter and clear out!” The trucker glowered at the girls, and dropped his left hand to his hip pocket. “Get out I said!”

Frightened by the hostile attitude of the man, Beverly and Betty snatched up their first aid kits, and started hurriedly off the way they had come. Kathleen and Judy were more deliberate in making their departure. However, knowing that the trucker had a revolver, they were in no mood to argue with him.

Once beyond the first bend in the road, the four girls excitedly discussed the situation.

“That’s all the thanks we get for helping!” Beverly said furiously. “We’ve lost out on the Hermit Ridge competition too--worse luck.”

“I guess there’s more to this first aid business than just wrapping up broken bones!” Betty added. “One has to learn how to handle half-crazy patients.”

“I can’t understand why that man was so eager to get us away,” Judy remarked thoughtfully. “Normally, anyone in similar plight would welcome help. Why wouldn’t he want us to send a doctor or a wrecker?”

“Just out of his head, I guess,” Beverly shrugged.

“On the contrary,” Judy insisted, “he seemed quite cool about the entire procedure. You know, I wonder what sort of cargo those men were carrying?”

“It must have been valuable,” Kathleen replied. “Otherwise, why would he carry a revolver for protection?”

Keyed up by the encounter with the two men, but decidedly discouraged over the outcome of their efforts, the girls hiked as fast as they could down the mountain road. Despite the order that they were not to send help, they planned to do so.

“Doesn’t a car ever come on this road?” Beverly complained after they had hiked ten minutes without meeting or being passed by an automobile or a truck.

“I see a car coming now!” Kathleen suddenly cried. “From the direction of the village.”

“Say, we’re in luck!” exclaimed Judy, abruptly halting. “It’s a state highway patrol car!”

Waiting, the girls flagged the automobile to a stop. Quickly, they told the two patrolmen of the accident and of the strange behavior of the truckers who had rejected assistance.

“Did you notice the license number of the truck?” one of the highway patrolmen asked.

None of the Scouts had made a note of it.

“We were too busy wrapping up wounds to think of that,” Judy confessed.

The patrolmen next inquired if the girls could describe the two truckers.

“Oh, yes!” Kathleen said eagerly. “The passenger was a thin fellow with two teeth missing. He had dark bushy eyebrows and was very disagreeable.”

“That was Ben Vodner, I’ll bet a cent!” one of the patrolmen exclaimed. “Did he have a scar on his left cheek?”

“Yes, he did!” Judy recalled. “A long jagged white mark!”

“What did the other man look like?”

“His most prominent feature was a large hooked nose,” Judy described him. “He was a large man, heavy-set and with a square jaw. I’d say he weighed about two hundred pounds--”

“That’s Joe Pompilli for sure!”

“Who is he?” Kathleen demanded.

“Joe’s the ring leader of a bunch of hi-jackers,” one of the patrolmen informed her. “Off and on for the last six months, he and his boys have been hi-jacking cargo and taking it through here right under the noses of the forest rangers.”

“So that was why they didn’t want help!” Judy exclaimed. “That truck that went off the road was loaded with stolen cargo!”

Taking the girls into the patrol car, the two patrolmen proceeded with all speed toward the scene of the accident.

“It’s just around the next bend,” Judy informed the driver.

“Then I’ll let you girls out here,” he said, pulling up at the side of the road. “There may be shooting. Stay back until we see what’s what.”

Piling out of the car, the Scouts waited until the patrolmen had driven on. Then, they rounded the bend, tense and expectant.

The truck remained in the ditch where last they had seen it, but neither of the injured men were anywhere visible.

Watching from a safe distance, the girls saw the patrolmen carefully search the truck cab.

“Those two hi-jackers have fled!” Judy exclaimed. “I guess they weren’t as badly hurt as we thought!”

At a run, the Scouts raced up the road to join the patrolmen, who by this time had broken open the door lock on the back of the truck.

“Just as I thought,” one of the searchers declared as he swung open the double doors. “Stolen auto tires!”

“Tires snatched from the Graystone Transport Co. The truck was held up early this morning across the state line.”

Judy and her friends were bewildered with respect to what had happened to the two accident victims. They were not long in doubt however, for tire marks on the pavement showed plainly that a car had come along, turned on the roadway, and returned in the same direction whence it had come.

“Ben Vodner must have stopped the driver and made him take him and his pal, Joe, to town,” the patrolman commented. “They’re likely heading for Brady City, over the state line. There’s a slim chance we can overtake ’em.”

Knowing that the wild chase might end in a gun battle, the patrolmen told the Scouts they could not take them along.

“Catch a ride back to your camp,” one of the men advised Judy as he prepared to drive away. “We’ll let you know later how this comes out. If we overtake those hi-jackers, we may need you to testify. If they get away, you want to steer clear of them. Joe and Ben are mighty tough boys, and they’ll bear you no gratitude for the help you gave them today!”

_Chapter 9_

“IS JOE THERE?”

All that day, Pine Cone Camp buzzed with the exciting story of how the four Beaver Patrol Scouts had given first aid to the two notorious hi-jackers.

Judy, Beverly, Betty and Kathleen were subjected to a great deal of teasing. The other campers, to plague them declared that their timely assistance had made it easier for the truckers to escape.

That the two men had made a successful getaway was confirmed late in the afternoon. Two state highway patrolmen, Clinton DeWitt and George Franey, dropped around at Pine Cone Camp purposely to inform Judy and her friends that the identity of the hi-jackers tentatively had been established.

“We’re quite sure those two truckers were Joe Pompilli and Ben Vodner,” the girls were told. “They stopped a car and made the driver give them a lift. At gun point, they forced him to take them across the state line. Finally, on a side road, miles from a telephone, they abandoned the driver and continued on their way.”

“Joe and his pal probably will give this area a wide berth for awhile,” the other patrolman added. “You never can tell though.”

“That’s right,” agreed George Franey. “They’re daring outlaws, well organized. Joe Pompilli won’t abandon this run because of one mishap. But we’ll be watching for him!”

As was to be expected, Judy, Beverly, Betty and Kathleen, were regarded somewhat as heroines by their camp mates. Many times they were called upon to recite their adventures on the lonely mountain road.

“We’ve given a bandage-by-bandage report so many times I’m beginning to embellish the details,” Judy laughed as she told the story for perhaps the twelfth time. “That thin fellow the patrolmen called Ben was a mean sort of individual. He didn’t actually threaten us with his gun though.”

“The worst of it was that we lost out in the Hermit Ridge competition,” added Kathleen ruefully. “I’m afraid we’ll have to depend on Ardeth and Virginia to win points for our patrol.”

She smiled at the other two, who had spent most of the morning searching for a suitable specimen to add to the nature treasure chest.

Both girls were sunburned and discouraged. True, they had captured an unwary bull frog and a rare type of water insect, but only to learn that other units had made similar entries during their absence from camp.

“So now to qualify, we’ll have to find something different,” Ardeth asserted. “I’m sick about it.”

“Oh, we’ll get an entry before the deadline,” Judy said cheerfully.

“We have several days to work on it,” added Kathleen.

“The other campers have combed the lake and the area around here so thoroughly that it will be hard to find anything unusual,” Ardeth insisted with a shake of her head. “All of the common things such as worms, bugs, and bees, have been used too!”

“Maybe we can find an entry while we’re at Calico Cottage,” Kathleen suggested. “The woods near the cave haven’t been explored.”

“We might enter the Cottage ghost!” Judy said with a chuckle. “If we could capture him, we’d be entitled to first prize!”

“By the way, have you heard from your aunt?” Ardeth inquired.

Judy nodded and displayed a telegram which she carried in her pocket. “This came in the morning delivery from town,” she explained. “Aunt Mattie will arrive on the 2:10 p.m. train tomorrow.”

“Have you told her about the cottage having a ghost?”

“No, and I’m not eager to either,” Judy returned with a grimace. “Aunt Mattie might make a dreadful fuss. I wish we could clear up the mystery before she gets here.”

“We have tonight to work on it,” Kathleen remarked thoughtfully. “If only we could get down into the cottage basement! It wouldn’t do though, to break the door lock.”

“Hardly,” Judy agreed. “Mr. Krumm would have a just complaint then!”

Though the Beaver Patrol girls made light of the “ghost” and the strange flute music which had disturbed their slumbers at the cottage, they were determined to find a logical explanation for the occurrence.

Judy and her friends had said very little about the mysterious happening, but the story had leaked out and greatly enlarged in the telling. Throughout the afternoon, the girls were besieged by questions. Their rivals in the Lone Tree unit seemed especially interested.

“We’re certainly the target of attention,” Judy remarked to Kathleen. “I can’t understand why the Lone Tree girls are so fascinated by every detail. Something’s in the wind!”

The Beaver Patrol members remained at camp for dinner and to enjoy a ceremonial camp fire which wound up with the telling of ghost stories. At nine o’clock, the station wagon took Judy, Kathleen, Miss Ward, Ardeth and Virginia to Calico Cottage for the night.

“We’ll have our tent by tomorrow, I’m quite sure,” Miss Ward told the girls as they let themselves into the dark cottage. “That will be a relief.”

“I don’t mind being here,” Virginia asserted. “In fact, I think it’s exciting! Do you suppose we’ll hear that flute player tonight?”

“We will if we keep dwelling upon it,” Miss Ward replied as she switched on the lights. “The mind, you know, plays strange tricks. Now everyone to bed, and no nonsense.”