Part 5

Rather soberly, the girls went to their rooms. Because Miss Ward was with them, they had no fear of spending a night in the cottage. Nevertheless, they were somewhat tense with expectancy.

Ardeth was removing a shoe, when suddenly she stiffened. “Listen!” she directed. “What was that?”

“I heard nothing,” returned Virginia.

“I thought I heard a thumping sound in the cellar,” Ardeth insisted in a hushed voice.

“That was your own heart pounding, goose!” teased Kathleen. “Jump into bed, and stop imagining things.”

Ardeth obediently turned off the bedroom light. Going to the window, she opened it, and stood for a moment, gazing toward the dark forest which edged ominously close to the cottage lawn.

“Kathleen! Virginia!” she summoned the others, drawing in her breath.

“Now what?” Kathleen demanded.

“Come here, quick! Tell me what you see.” Dramatically, Ardeth pointed toward the towering trees.

Virginia went quickly to the window, peering in the direction indicated. She stood silent and tense, scarcely believing her own eyesight.

“It’s--it’s something white, and it moves!” she exclaimed.

Kathleen had joined the other two. Ardeth gripped her hand so tightly it hurt. “I’m scared,” she confessed shakily. “What do you think, Kathy?”

“I’ll call Miss Ward and Judy.”

Quickly, she summoned the other two from the next bedroom. Neither had started to disrobe for the night. For several minutes the five stood at the darkened window, gazing out across the sloping lawn to the dark backdrop of trees.

Plainly they could see a white object moving lazily back and forth against a curtain of foliage. A nearly full moon added to the eerie effect, casting a ghostly light over the lonely forest area.

“A spook!” Ardeth declared shakily. “It’s coming this way too!”

“No such thing,” Miss Ward corrected in a firm voice. “Whatever the object may be, it is not moving in this direction. I’ll get my flashlight and investigate.”

“I’ll go with you,” Judy offered.

Putting on warm jackets, the two slipped out of the cottage. The night was chilly, for a light breeze blew from the direction of the river.

Judy and the teacher focused their eyes on the white object at the edge of the woods. Though it continued to move lazily, its basic position did not seem to change.

“Keep well behind me, Judy,” Miss Ward directed as they drew near the trees. “I doubt that there is any serious cause for alarm, but it’s wise to proceed cautiously.”

Having decided upon a bold approach, the pair moved directly toward the white object.

When they were within a few yards of it, Miss Ward switched on the flashlight. She directed the beam squarely upon the fluttering “ghost.”

“Why, it looks like a bed sheet!” Judy exclaimed, and burst into relieved laughter.

“A sheet attached to a bush!” added Miss Ward. “Let’s find out about this.”

She held the light while Judy removed the sheet from the foliage. To prevent it from blowing away, two ends had been tied to the branches with cord.

“This ‘ghost’ was put here purposely!” Judy declared. “By whom, I wonder?”

“Any marking on the linen?”

Judy inspected the sheet under the light. “Here are some initials stamped on the edge!” she exclaimed. “‘P.C.C.’”

“Pine Cone Camp!”

“Well, if that isn’t a good joke on us!” Judy laughed. “The girls at camp decided to produce that ghost we were telling them about! Beverly and Betty may have pulled this one!”

“They were in camp all afternoon, Judy.”

“That’s true. Maybe some of the Lone Tree Scouts did it then! One of their girls has been asking a lot of questions about Calico Cottage.”

“I don’t mind a bit of good fun,” Miss Ward said, folding the sheet. “On the other hand, I’m not in favor of making too much of this ghost talk. I think I’ll discuss the matter with Miss Lubell tomorrow.”

“I hope whoever played the trick won’t get into trouble. I’m sure it was all in good fun.”

“Oh, no one will receive a reprimand,” Miss Ward promised. “I’ll find out which girls had camp leave this afternoon. If it develops that any of them played the trick, I’ll ask them not to repeat it, that’s all.”

When the two returned to the cottage with the bed sheet, Virginia, Ardeth and Kathleen anxiously met them at the door.

“Here’s your ghost!” Judy laughed, tossing the camp linen into Kathleen’s arms. “Look at the initials!”

“So that’s why those Lone Tree Scouts were giggling and carrying on this afternoon!” Kathleen exclaimed after she had examined the markings. “Several of them asked for camp leave too!”

“Then my idea about that probably was right,” Miss Ward said.

Greatly relieved that the ghost scare had no serious aspects, the Scouts discussed the prank for a few minutes, and then went to bed. It was a long while, however, before the house finally settled down.

Judy fell quickly asleep. How long she slumbered she had no way of knowing. But suddenly, she found herself wide awake.

Miss Ward, she noted, was sleeping soundly beside her.

Wondering what had disturbed her, Judy sat up. Moonlight streamed into the bedroom. She judged that it could not be later than midnight or possibly one o’clock.

The telephone was ringing.

“So that’s what awakened me!” Judy thought, leaping out of bed. “Wonder who can be calling at this time of night?”

The phone call, she thought, might be from Pine Cone Camp. Something might have happened to Betty or Beverly. Or possibly it was a message from Aunt Mattie.

In her haste to reach the telephone before it stopped ringing, Judy bumped against a chair. Nursing a bruised knee, she hobbled on.

As she took down the receiver to say “hello,” a gruff voice came over the line.

“Time you answered! Is Joe there?”

“Joe?” faltered Judy. “Joe who?”

Only silence gave reply. Then the wire went completely dead. The speaker at the other end of the line had hung up.

_Chapter 10_

A MIDNIGHT DISTURBANCE

As Judy hung up the telephone receiver, the light suddenly was switched on behind her. Startled, she whirled around with a smothered exclamation of alarm.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, Judy.” It was Kathleen who stood in the doorway, a corduroy robe flung over her shoulders. “I heard someone moving around, and thought I’d check, that’s all. Is anything wrong?”

“The phone was ringing. I--I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Who was it that called, Judy?”

“That’s the point. I don’t know. Someone asked for Joe.”

“Joe? Joe who?”

“That’s exactly what I asked, Kathleen. The only Joe I know is that dreadful Joe Pompilli.”

“Someone must have called the wrong number.”

“I guess so,” Judy admitted doubtfully. “It gave me an ugly start though. What time is it?”

“A little past midnight,” Kathleen said, looking at her wristwatch. “What a night! All we need to make it complete is a little flute music!”

The switching on of a light had disturbed the others in the cottage. Miss Ward came in from the bedroom and then Virginia and Ardeth, the latter groggy with sleep.

“What now?” she mumbled. “Another ghost?”

Judy explained about the telephone.

“Those Lone Tree Scouts!” Virginia exclaimed indignantly. “They’re playing another joke on us! Trying to pretend that Joe Pompilli is calling!”

“It wasn’t anyone from Pine Cone Camp,” Judy said, her face serious. “Whoever called was a man.”

“It must have been someone who dialed a wrong number,” Kathleen insisted. “I’m in favor of forgetting the whole business, and going to bed. If we don’t get some sleep we’ll all be wrecks tomorrow.”

“That’s sound advice,” approved Miss Ward. “To bed everyone!”

All the girls were up at seven o’clock the next morning, feeling little the worse for the excitement of the night. While the Scouts were washing the breakfast dishes, the telephone rang again.

“You get it, Judy,” Virginia directed with a giggle. “It’s probably from Joe.”

“From Aunt Mattie more than likely,” Judy replied, moving hastily to the telephone.

The message was from Miss Lubell at Pine Cone Camp. She asked Judy to tell Miss Ward that the station wagon driver had been delayed that morning and could not call for the girls until ten thirty.

“This means we’ll have considerable free time on our hands,” Judy remarked as she relayed the information to the others.

“Let’s explore the river area, and maybe around the cave,” proposed Ardeth. “I want to find an insect or an animal we can enter in the nature treasure chest.”

“We’ll all go,” Miss Ward decided.

The work already had been finished. Locking the cottage, the five struck off down the private road. After it dead-ended, they went on across the silvery-gray rocks and through a stretch of sand to the river.

Beyond the ribbon of blue water, the mountains rose in jagged green peaks. A ranger station was visible on one of the high slopes, set in a cleared area among the trees.

A half-rotted dock extended for some distance out into the stream. The girls noticed an elderly man in blue overalls tying up his rowboat after a fishing expedition.

“Good morning,” Judy said pleasantly as the girls wandered over. “How’s the fishing?”

Straightening up, the old man shoved a soiled white cap at a rakish angle over his shaggy white hair.

“Mornin’ to you,” he greeted the girls jovially. “The fishin’? Nary a bite! Blast my timbers, it’s a waste of a man’s time to blister his skin out in the sun on this old river. I’m slingin’ my hook for today.”

Moving stiffly, the elderly man began to unload his fishing equipment from the boat. Judy and Kathleen reached down to help him.

“Right handy mates ye be,” he remarked, well pleased by their attention. “Don’t recollect seein’ you gals hereabouts before. Tourists?”

“We’re Girl Scouts,” Judy explained. “We’re staying at Pine Cone Camp. Because of a mix-up there over reservations, some of us have been sleeping at Calico Cottage.”

“Calico Cottage? Well, bash my binnacles!”

“It’s a lovely cottage,” Ardeth contributed. “The only trouble is, it seems to have a ghost.”

“A musical ghost who plays a flute at night,” added Virginia.

“You don’t say! A ghost!” The old man gave a throaty chuckle and then laughed so hard that his sizeable stomach rolled up and down under the overalls. “I’ll be a son of a sea cook! That’s a good joke on Krumm!”

“It’s not so much fun for us though,” Judy declared earnestly. “We’re turning the cottage over to my aunt this afternoon. She’s inclined to be nervous. We’d hoped to clear up the mystery before she arrived, but that seems out of the question now.”

“Don’t waste any time worrying about that ghost,” the old man advised. “A bunch o’ Girl Scouts ought to be smart enough to get to wind’ard of any flute-playin’ spook.”

“It would seem that way,” agreed Judy. “So far, though, we’ve had no luck. By the way, you’re not Captain Hager by any chance?”

“That’s my name, but not by chance! Captain Humphrey Hager, formerly master of the good ship _Elaine_. I’ve been in dry dock going on ten years now.”

“We’re glad to meet you,” Judy declared cordially. She introduced Miss Ward and the girls, and then added: “Bart Ranieau told us that you once owned Calico Cottage--or rather, the old homestead that stood on the same foundation.”

“That’s right,” Old Captain Hager agreed, his leathery face wrinkling into a scowl. “I found myself in low water, financially speaking. That blasted, penny-squeezin’ Krumm kept pestering me, until finally I sold him the place.”

“Tell us, Captain Hager,” urged Kathleen, “did the house have a ghost when you lived there?”

A knowing smile overspread the old man’s face. “Well, yes, and no,” he said. “I advised Krumm to put in a new foundation, but he let me know he would do it his own way. So now he has a ghost! Ha!”

“Does the old foundation have anything to do with the ghost?” Virginia asked, looking puzzled.

Old Captain Hager acted as if he had not heard the question. He fussed with the painter of the rowboat for a moment, and then remarked offhand:

“So you gals have met Bart Ranieau? Now there’s a fine lad, smart as a whip and with the courage of a young lion. He told you about Hager’s Hole?”

“Calico Cave?” inquired Judy.

“Hager’s Hole,” the old man repeated. “I don’t take stock of that new fancy name Krumm tacked on. Bart told you about his father losing his life in the cave?”

“Why no!” exclaimed Judy.

“He did say something about an explorer trying to find the cave’s exit, and never being heard of again,” Virginia added.

“That was Bart’s father,” the Captain informed her. “His son’s a chip off the old block. Lots of sand in the craw! Bart’s trying to work his way through college by peddlin’ milk. Aye, he’s an up and comer!”

“How did Bart’s father lose his life?” Miss Ward inquired.

The old captain’s gaze swept the river and lifted to fasten thoughtfully upon the dark entranceway of Calico Cave.

“No one knows,” he replied. “Not for sure. Folks say though, that it was the siphon that did for him.”

“What’s a siphon?” demanded Kathleen.

“Hager’s Hole has an underground river,” he related. “Where it empties no one knows. Deep in the cave is a grotto, so beautiful it will blast your eyes! The underground stream must have hollowed it out ages ago, then bored its way on through the rock.

“By wading waist-deep and finally neck-deep in water one can follow the river for awhile. Then the ceiling dips until water and roof meet. That’s your siphon.”

“A stretch of water between the rocks, with no roof space above?” Judy questioned.

“Aye.”

“Bart’s father tried to go through the siphon?” Miss Ward inquired soberly.

“He knew he was risking his life, but spelunkers don’t have good sense when it comes to explorin’ caves. Bart’s father was obsessed with the idea he had to find the exit to Hager’s Hole. He gambled his life, figuring he could dive through the siphon and find an air space beyond.”

“No one ever learned for certain what became of Mr. Ranieau?” The question was asked by Judy who sat cross-legged on the dock, listening intently to every word of the story.

“His clothes were found in the grotto, tied in a neat bundle. That’s all that ever was known. A watch was kept at the siphon for days, but there never was a sound or a signal of any kind. That was a long while ago, and now Bart’s sailin’ the same course as his dad, hauntin’ that cave, and dreamin’ about it at night. I’m right worried about the lad.”

“You’re afraid he’ll meet with mishap in the cave?” questioned Miss Ward.

“Bart knows his way in that cavern like it was his own ship,” the old captain replied. “What worries me, Ma’am, is that he’s obsessed with finding out what became of his father. He keeps talking about the siphon, speculatin’ on whether a strong swimmer couldn’t get through. One of these days he may be rash enough to try it.”

“Calico Cave--Hager’s Hole, I mean,” Kathleen corrected herself, “must be a fascinating place. You’ve been in the cave many times I suppose?”

“Aye, in my younger day, I went there right often.”

“Then you must have seen the White Witch!” cried Judy, her brown eyes dancing.

“Aye,” Captain Hager agreed reminiscently. “Aye.” He became absorbed in deep thought.

Judy broke into his meditation to ask how long it would take to reach the formation after one left the cave entrance.

“Ten minutes,” the captain estimated. “It’s easy walkin’. But don’t you gals try it by yourself. If you’re aimin’ to go into that cave, you need a guide.”

“We do, indeed!” cried Judy. She sprang to her feet, seizing the captain’s hand so unexpectedly that he nearly dropped his pipe. “Oh, Captain Hager, will you take us? Please, will you guide us to the White Witch?”

_Chapter 11_

SPELL OF THE CAVE

Captain Hager’s remarks about the cave had stirred the imagination of the Scouts, and even Miss Ward thought it would be interesting to explore the cavern for a short distance.

“Would it be safe, do you think?” she asked, as Captain Hager seemed to be giving Judy’s request sober consideration.

“It’s safe enough, Ma’am,” he assured her. “The only danger lies in going too far without a guide.”

“No rock falls?”

“Never heard of one in all the years I’ve lived hereabouts.”

“Then do take us, Captain Hager!” Judy urged again, prancing excitedly about the dock. “We haven’t much time, because the camp station wagon is to come for us at ten thirty. Please, could we start right now?”

“Dash it, I was calculatin’ on anchorin’ for a comfortable snooze,” the captain complained good-naturedly. “But if them’s my sailing orders, we’ll cast off for the cave!”

The old man told the Scouts and their leader to meet him at the entranceway of Hager’s Hole. He promised to join them there as soon as he had gone to his nearby river shack to leave his fishing equipment and pick up a few items he would want for the trip.

Taking leave of the old man, the girls swiftly climbed the slope to the cave. Captain Hager did not keep them waiting long.

Within fifteen minutes, they glimpsed his bent figure coming along the path. He had changed his shoes, put on a blue jacket, and carried a lantern.

Before leading the way into the cave, Captain Hager told the group something of its history. The cavern, he related, was known to have been in existence in early Indian days--the exact date of its origin never would be established.

“Now there are all types of caves,” he went on, warming to his subject. “Tunnel caves, river system caves, fissure caves--no two ever are the same, and that’s what makes ’em so interesting to explorers. This one starts with a sort of sinkhole entrance. It narrows down for a distance and then opens up into a chamber where you’ll see the White Witch. That’s as far as most folks ever go.”

“It won’t take us too long to see the formation?” Miss Ward asked, looking anxiously at her wrist watch. “We haven’t much time.”

“Ten minutes, ma’am, to walk to the chamber. The climb back will take longer. I’m not as spry as I was in the old days.”

“We can spare an hour,” Miss Ward decided.

Captain Hager instructed the girls to follow him, single-file. Miss Ward brought up the rear of the procession to make certain that none of her charges wandered out of line.

Cautiously, and with awe, the Scouts moved into the entrance chamber of the cave. A considerable current of air moved in the cavern, nearly lifting Kathleen’s beret from her head.

The room in which the girls found themselves, though dark, was neither damp nor musty. By the light of Captain Hager’s lantern, they distinguished smoke-blackened limestone walls, and on the floor were the dead ashes of a small fire.

“Someone has been in here lately,” the guide remarked. “Not Bart, because he wouldn’t bother with a fire. He does most of his exploring in a bathing suit.”

“A bathing suit!” gasped Miss Ward, truly astonished. “I should think he’d freeze to death.”

“Not that lad,” chuckled the captain. He had rested his lantern for a moment on a rocky ledge. “The temperature of this cave is the same, summer or winter. Bart wears a bathing suit because he can crawl through narrow places better than if he had on bulky clothes. And when he gets wet, he says he stays warmer and dries out faster.”

“Dear me, there’s more to this exploration of caves than I realized,” commented Miss Ward. “We’ll not get wet, I trust?”

“No, Ma’am,” the captain promised. “There’s no water down to the level where we’re going. Keep your eyes out for bats though--not that the little creatures will harm you.”

“Bats!” Virginia squealed. “Horrors!”

“They won’t hurt you,” the captain repeated. “Not even if you touch ’em with your hand. Sometimes they’re packed in on the walls as tight as a swarm o’ bees. Then if they’re disturbed, the whole mass may take flight. Bats are strange creatures.”

“Ardeth should be assigned to capture one for the camp treasure chest!” Judy chuckled.

“We’ll go below, now,” the captain announced. “Follow me closely, and don’t do too much talkin’. Sound echoes in a cave and is magnified. Full steam ahead!”

Step by step, the Scouts descended the narrow passageway. The slope was an easy one, but it seemed endless. Unable to judge distance underground, the girls imagined they had gone a long ways when finally the captain brought up in a gallery approximately sixteen feet wide.

Walls of the room were covered with limestone ridges and there were a few interesting stalagmites and stalactites. Captain Hager struck one of the latter with his stout walking stick, and it gave forth a musical ring.

Waiting until the entire party had clustered about, he slowly moved his lantern so that it threw a circular, shadowy light on a dark portion of the gallery.

The girls sucked in their breath, uttering exclamations of surprise and awe.

There before them, was the cave witch!

Tall and skinny, she appeared to lean on a long, white staff. The ice-like figure, the girls knew, had been formed by stalagmites and stalactites which over the years had grown together in weird formation.

For a long while they stood silent, held by the ghostly spell of the old witch. In the dead stillness, they could hear the rush of the mysterious hidden river far below them. A cold gust of air blew across the gallery, causing the Scouts to pull their jackets more closely about them.

“How real that old witch looks!” Judy whispered, finally breaking the silence. “No wonder folks make up tales about this cave.”

Keeping his voice low to prevent echo, Captain Hager explained that the dripstone formations were called stalactites when they hung from the limestone ceiling and stalagmites if they rose from the cave floor.

“Each icicle-like formation, if broken, shows growth rings not unlike those of a tree,” he related. Some, he told the Scouts, grew very rapidly, while others were years in the making.

“Usually each stalactite has a small hole in the center through which the water flows to drip off the end,” he went on. “When the drip-off strikes the floor, it sometimes builds up a stalagmite as you see them here. When the two unite, you may get any variety of weird shapes.”

“Oh, dear,” protested Kathleen, “you’re taking all the magic away from the White Witch, Captain Hager! I prefer to imagine that she is pure white stone.”

Virginia inquired if there were other interesting formations deeper down in the cave?

“Aye, in the gallery below, there’s one Bart calls the Grand Ballroom. Farther on, there’s a Frozen Waterfall, or flowstone, as it’s called. You can see needles and toadstools and totem poles.”

“Oh, Captain Hager, take us on!” pleaded Ardeth. “Only as far as the Ballroom. This cave is so fascinating.”

Before the captain could answer, Miss Ward interposed firmly: “No, girls. Perhaps some other day, if we have a guide, we can return.”

“The camp station wagon will be at Calico Cottage before we are, if we don’t hurry,” declared Kathleen. “This is such a wonderful grotto, I hate to leave, but we must.”

Regretfully, the others agreed that further exploration of the cave must be postponed. Leading the way with the lantern, Captain Hager began the steep climb. He moved slowly and in the narrow passageway, his heavy breathing was so loud that those behind him could hear it plainly.

“I’m not as spry as I was ten years ago,” the old man confessed when the party presently reached the cave exit. “Going down is easy enough, but when I throw ’er in reverse, my ticker starts to pound.”

“We shouldn’t have pressed you into taking us to see the old witch,” Judy apologized.

“I was glad to do it,” the captain insisted. “Anyway, I’m not ready yet to let old age get to the windward of me! No, sir!”

The Scouts thanked their guide for taking them on the expedition. Saying goodbye, they hastened along the rocky path to the private road, thence to Calico Cottage. To their relief, the camp station wagon had not yet arrived.

“What a wonderful morning!” Kathleen declared, sitting down on the porch steps to think over the exciting things she had seen inside the cave. “I wish all the girls at Pine Cone Camp could see the White Witch!”