Part 8

“I don’t know where you’ll find another cottage on short notice,” Judy told her regretfully. “Everything around here has been taken.”

“I can go to a hotel.”

“The closest one is eighteen miles away. Aunt Mattie, I don’t like to urge you to stay, but there must be a logical explanation for these strange noises. I mean to find it too! Let me have one of those candles.”

Miss Meadows found it for her, and lighted the wick.

“Watch the drip of the wax,” she advised, “or you’ll burn your hand.”

The glowing candle made a flickering, ghostly circle of light on the rough walls of the stairway.

Resolutely, Judy started down. Close behind her came Kathleen, while Miss Meadows unwillingly brought up the rear.

Judy descended a half dozen steps, only to pause. A slight breath of air caused the candle to waver and nearly go out. And at the same moment, she caught an unpleasant odor which seemed to rise from the darkness below.

“Mercy!” gasped Miss Meadows, as she too sniffed the air.

The musty scent became stronger as the three went on down. Judy localized it in the main cellar room, toward the south east wall.

However, in slowly moving the candle about, she could find no cause for the unpleasant odor.

“It’s such a strange smell,” Kathleen commented with a nervous shiver. “A sort of stale air scent. But from where does it come?”

Judy asked Kathleen to hold the candle. Carefully, she ran her hand over the brick wall, feeling along the line of crumbling mortar.

“There’s an opening here!” she suddenly exclaimed. “I can feel cool air coming in!”

Excited by Judy’s discovery, Kathleen held the candle higher.

As she raised it in line with the brick which Judy’s exploring hand had found, a direct current of air extinguished the flame.

The three were left in total darkness.

“I’ll get some matches,” Miss Meadows said eager to be out of the basement. “But is there any need to explore further? Haven’t we discovered everything there is to learn?”

“Not quite everything,” said Judy. “We’ve learned where that musty odor comes from though. It is being blasted in through the broken mortar.”

“How strange,” Kathleen murmured. “Shouldn’t there be solid dirt or rock behind these walls and under the floor?”

“One would think so,” Judy agreed thoughtfully, “unless--”

“There might be a tunnel connected with the cottage!” Kathleen speculated.

“A tunnel, possibly tied up with Calico Cave,” Judy carried on the thought. “Even so, that doesn’t explain those strange banging noises.”

Leaving the girls alone in the cellar, Miss Meadows went quickly for matches. She returned promptly and the candle was relighted.

This time, Judy was careful to shield it with her hand so that it would not be blown out.

In the uncertain light, the three were able to see a faint, rectangular outline on the wall, which marked a division between old and newer bricks.

“At one time, there must have been an opening here!” Judy asserted, elated by her discovery. “A long while ago, apparently, the passageway or whatever it is, was bricked over. Now that the mortar is falling away, cold air filters in.”

“From where?” Kathleen demanded.

“That’s what we’ll have to learn, if we can. I have a hunch Captain Hager might be able to supply interesting information.”

“I’ll bet he could at that!” cried Kathleen. “Since he lived in the old house so many years, he must have known about this bricked up place on the wall. In fact, he may have closed it himself.”

“The captain hinted that Mr. Krumm made a bad mistake in building the cottage on the old foundation,” Judy recalled. “I’m sure he knows a lot about this place that he hasn’t told!”

“Say, wouldn’t it be great if we could solve the mystery before we leave Pine Cone Camp? You’d win a rental bonus too from Mr. Krumm, Judy!”

“I don’t care about that part, but it would be fun to hit upon an explanation for everything that’s happened here. The thing that puzzles me most is that boy with the flute--”

“Boy with a flute?” Miss Meadow interposed, her voice rising.

Judy regretted her slip of tongue. Nevertheless, having made the mistake, she could do no less than tell her aunt about the strange musical notes which had startled the Scouts during the night they had spent at the cottage.

“What manner of place have I rented?” Miss Meadows gasped. “Is the cottage haunted?”

“By the spirit of the White Witch,” Judy said with a giggle. Then, becoming sober, she added: “I’m sure there’s no danger here, Aunt Mattie. Even so, you mustn’t stay another night. Come with us to Pine Cone Camp. We’ll find a bed for you, and tomorrow we can start looking for another cottage.”

“And have everyone say I was frightened away?” Miss Meadows reproved her niece. “The very idea!”

“You mean you’re willing to stay?”

“Yes, I intend to,” Miss Meadows announced firmly. “At least for a day or so.”

“I’ll remain with you,” Judy offered. “Not that I’ll be any protection.”

To her surprise, Miss Meadows turned her aside. “No,” she told Judy, “you’ve already lost a great deal of camp fun on my account. You’re not to worry about me any more, or Calico Cottage.”

“But to leave you alone--”

“I’ll manage,” Miss Meadows said dryly. “Let’s go upstairs now, or you girls will miss your station wagon.”

“Goodness, I forgot about the driver calling for us!” Kathleen exclaimed. “We’ve been down here in the cellar quite a while.”

Hastily, the three ascended to the main floor of the cottage. Miss Meadows locked the cellar door and replaced the key on the cupboard shelf.

“I intend to forget about those stupid noises,” she asserted. “It will take a very powerful ghost indeed to dislodge me from my bed tonight.”

Greatly relieved that her aunt was taking such a matter-of-fact view of an unpleasant situation, Judy said no more about the disturbances. She and Kathleen began to watch for the camp station wagon, and ten minutes later, saw its headlights wink in signal from the main road.

“Goodbye, Aunt Mattie,” Judy said, giving her a hasty peck on the cheek. “If anything should go wrong tonight, you’ll call me at Pine Cone Camp?”

“I’ll call the police,” Miss Meadows threatened. “Now run along, and enjoy yourselves.”

Enroute back to camp, Judy and Kathleen did not report their experience at Calico Cottage. During the drive up the mountain, they were somewhat silent, but the others took it for granted that the two girls were worn out from the day’s hike.

In truth, Judy was very tired. Even before the “lights out” signal, she was snug in her cot, with the warm blankets tucked around her ears.

“I feel as if I could sleep until noon tomorrow,” she murmured drowsily. “Is there any law, I wonder, about skipping breakfast, and staying in bed?”

If there was an answer to her question, Judy did not hear it. She fell into a sound slumber, lulled by the chirp of crickets.

Sometime toward morning, Judy began to dream. A confusion of images flitted through her mind. She thought she was exploring a cave, that the White Witch had come alive and was advancing toward her in a menacing manner.

In her dream, she became aware of a horrible odor. The scent enveloped her, stifling her so that she could not breathe.

Awakening, Judy found herself battling the blankets which she had pulled up over her head. She laughed in relief. The White Witch was only a nightmare! There was no disagreeable odor--or was there?

Thrusting the covers aside, Judy sat up in bed. Fearfully, she sniffed the air. The odor had not been entirely in her dream! The air was chilly, filled with an acrid scent she could not identify immediately.

Then suddenly, Judy knew. She bolted out of bed, the cold chills racing down her spine. The tent was filled with smoke! The camp must be afire!

_Chapter 17_

SMOKE IN THE WOODS

Thoroughly alert now, Judy awakened her tent mates, warning them of the danger.

“What’s this?” mumbled Ardeth, drugged by sleep and unwilling to leave her comfortable cot.

“Get out of here fast, unless you want to be burned!” Judy said tersely, giving her a hard shake. “The forest is on fire!”

The other Beaver Patrol Scouts who shared the tent, already were out of bed and dressing with frenzied haste. Judy pulled on her own clothes, aware that more and more smoke was swirling about the canvas shelter.

Once outside, she saw the source of the fire. Heavy black smoke was billowing toward the camp from the woods where duff and debris were ablaze.

Judy’s first moment of relief that camp buildings and tents were intact, gave way to concern. The surface fire was dangerously close. Fed by a light but steady wind, the flames were moving toward the camp with amazing speed!

As she started for the adjoining tents to awaken the girls there, a gong in the main dining room sounded the first alarm.

Bong! Bong! Bong!

Tent flaps went apart, and sleep-eyed Scouts began to thrust tousled heads out into the cold night air.

“What’s up?” demanded Beverly, one of the first Beaver Patrol girls to scramble into her clothes. “Is the camp afire?”

“Not yet, but it will be if we don’t work fast!” Judy asserted. “Oh!”

She uttered a little scream as a flying brand, borne by the wind, dropped in the grass only a few feet away.

Badly frightened, she and Beverly ran to stamp out the tiny flames.

By this time, the camp was in confusion. Scouts were pouring out of their tents, milling about, chattering excitedly.

Unit leaders quickly gained control of the situation, ordering everyone to the main lodge assembly room.

Miss Lubell spoke tersely to the girls.

“Now there is no cause for alarm,” she advised everyone. “The fire is very close to our camp, and the wind is in this direction, but rangers are on their way here. I notified them by telephone. The fire already had been spotted from the observation tower.”

“Will we have to evacuate the camp?” inquired Miss Ward.

“That depends entirely upon whether or not the fire quickly can be brought under control,” the camp director replied. “So far, it is not wide-spread, but the head is moving in this direction.”

“Can’t we do anything until the rangers come?” Judy interposed.

“We can,” Miss Lubell said. “We can’t hope to fight the fire, but we can take steps to keep it under control. Each unit is to report to its leader and follow her orders. We’ll wet down the tents and the buildings to protect them from flying sparks. Then we’ll make a fire break by clearing a ditch ahead of the spreading flames!”

Pouring out of the assembly hall, the Beaver Patrol Scouts clustered about their unit leader and Miss Ward. Under direction, they carried buckets of water from the lake, dousing the walls of their tents thoroughly.

To be prepared for a quick evacuation, in the event one was ordered, they hastily tossed their belongings into suitcases.

This done, they raced to the edge of the camp, to assist counselors, who frantically had started to dig a shallow trench or fire break.

Using garden hoes, rakes, spades and other implements at hand, the Scouts rapidly cleared a band several feet wide between the camp and the spreading ground fire.

A few sparks were flying, but those which dropped in dry grass, instantly were extinguished by a unit assigned to that particular task.

By this time, the wind had spread the fire into an elliptical shape. Inexorably, it crept nearer and nearer the trench the girls were digging.

“It’s going to be nip and tuck to save the camp,” Miss Lubell gasped. “Don’t give up, girls!”

Against the flames, trees were silhouetted as dark, towering shapes. The sight was a terrifying one. But even though they could feel the heat in their faces, the Scouts kept doggedly at work.

Then suddenly a cry went up.

“The rangers!” cried a Lone Tree Scout. “They’ve come!”

Judy drew a deep, tired sigh of relief as she saw the Forest Service truck roll in with fire-fighting equipment.

“Our job is done now,” Miss Lubell said, wiping a smudge from her cheek. “We’ll let the men take over. Everyone report in the assembly room.”

The Scouts all checked in, and after washing up, watched the crew of rangers attack the fire.

A tractor widened and completed the ditch started by the Scouts. This task accomplished, rangers beat out some of the flames which had jumped the “break,” and hooked up a power pump.

Sleep was out of the question for the excited Scouts. They kept in orderly groups, but remained at the assembly room windows, watching every phase of the efficient fire fighting work.

The Beaver Patrol girls, those of the Lone Tree unit, and the Oriole outfit, volunteered to help in the kitchen. Gallons of coffee were prepared for the rangers.

“We’ve made enough for an army of workers!” Judy laughed.

The beverage was kept hot, ready to serve whenever a tired fire fighter could leave his post.

By four o’clock, the rangers announced that the fire finally was under complete control. Relaxing a bit from their arduous labors, the men took turns dropping around at the kitchen for coffee and a sandwich.

Arthur Wentz, one of the first rangers to come, praised the Scouts warmly for their well organized efforts prior to the arrival of the forest service truck.

“This could have been a bad fire,” he remarked. “There are three types--surface, ground and crown. But all start as surface fires.”

Judy asked the ranger to distinguish between the different classifications.

“Surface fires, as the name implies, burn only the loose debris on top of the ground,” he explained. “That’s the type of thing we encountered here. Sometimes, the fire eats down into the layer of undecomposed material on the forest floor, and then you have a ground fire. The most difficult of all are those which spread into the trees, or the crown fires.”

“How do you suppose this one started?” Miss Ward asked the ranger.

“That’s hard to say,” he replied.

Lowell Diethelm, the ranger Judy had met in the village the previous evening, now tramped into the kitchen. He had overheard Miss Ward’s question and the reply.

“It’s plain enough how the fire started,” he commented, pouring himself a mug of coffee.

“How?” Judy asked.

“Someone from this camp has been careless about fire.”

A stunned silence followed the observation. Then, almost as a unit, the Girl Scouts began to protest.

“I don’t think that’s fair to say!” exclaimed Kathleen indignantly. “Do you have any proof that the fire was started by anyone in this camp?”

“No proof,” the ranger admitted. “Just circumstantial evidence. You girls had a cook-out last night?”

“We started a fire at Fountain Falls,” Judy said. “You knew about that. We put it out too!”

“Anyway, that’s miles from here!” Betty Bashe broke in. “This fire started close to our camp.”

“Exactly my point,” replied Diethelm. “Any other cook-outs last night?”

“Our unit had one,” spoke up a Scout from the Lone Tree patrol. “We were accompanied by our leaders though, and built our fire on a rock. Every spark was extinguished before we left the spot.”

“That’s what you thought,” Diethelm said, none too pleasantly. “I’m not saying the Scouts started this fire, but I do say, it looks rather suspicious. If the fire hadn’t been reported so quickly, the entire camp might have burned.”

“That’s for sure,” agreed Arthur Wentz. “But I think you’re being unjust to the girls, Lowell. The fire may have been started by a carelessly dropped cigarette or a match. Or it could have been deliberately set.”

“What’s that?” Diethelm demanded, startled.

“Just a little thought I had,” Wentz replied with an odd smile.

Diethelm seemed to have been made uncomfortable by the remark and pursued the subject no further. He gulped down his coffee and soon left the kitchen.

“Don’t take what he said too seriously,” Wentz told the Scouts. “This camp has a good record. No one knows how the fire started.”

“I can assure you that it was not touched off by any of our girls,” asserted Miss Lubell firmly. “We’ve taken every precaution against fire.”

Although heavy smoke still hung over the camp area, the flames no longer were spreading. A ranger was assigned to remain behind to watch the smoldering debris. The others loaded their truck and presently drove away.

Worn out by their strenuous activities, the Scouts returned to their cots to try to snatch a few winks of sleep before dawn. Their eyes smarted, but tired as they were, they were too excited to relax. Most of the girls were relieved when the gong sounded as a signal for them to dress again and assemble for breakfast.

Great quantities of hot chocolate, scrambled eggs, toast and fruit, brought cheer to the Scouts. Nevertheless, the main topic at the table was the unjust accusation which Lowell Diethelm had leveled at the organization.

“I’ve never liked that ranger,” Judy remarked to Virginia, who sat beside her. “I guess it’s mean to say, because a Girl Scout should try to like folks, but there’s something about him--”

“I know what you mean,” nodded Virginia, reaching for another piece of toast. “He doesn’t seem friendly as the other rangers do.”

“I can’t get over what happened today about that trucker,” Judy went on, thinking aloud. “Suppose I was right, and Diethelm was mistaken--”

She broke off then, for Miss Ward had come into the dining hall, and was signaling to her.

“Judy, you’re wanted at the telephone,” the teacher called. “Your aunt, I think.”

Judy went quickly to Miss Lubell’s office. The call must be important, she reasoned, else her aunt would not have phoned at such an early morning hour. She was afraid Aunt Mattie had learned of the fire and was alarmed for her safety. Either that, or the ghost of Calico Cottage had put in another appearance!

As she took down the receiver, her first fears were confirmed. Miss Meadows was in a great state of agitation, having been informed that a fire was raging at Pine Cone Camp.

“It was only a little fire, and it never reached our camp,” Judy explained patiently. “Now don’t worry one tiny bit, Aunt Mattie! Everything is all right here.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Miss Meadows sighed. “I confess, I’ve spent a dreadful night.”

“No more disturbances, I hope.”

“It depends upon what you mean by disturbances,” Miss Meadows returned stiffly. “There were no weird sounds from the basement. But other things happened.”

“What sort of things?”

“I can’t tell you over the telephone,” Miss Meadows answered. “Just come as quickly as you can to the cottage!”

And with that, she hung up the receiver.

_Chapter 18_

AN URGENT CALL

It was well after seven o’clock when Judy, accompanied by Kathleen, arrived at Calico Cottage.

The trip down the mountain in the station wagon had not been without excitement. Less than a half mile from the cottage, the driver had been halted by state patrolmen, who had set up a road block.

At first, the girls had assumed that motorists on the main highway were being stopped because of the fire which still smoldered in the Pine Cone Camp area. Therefore, it came as a surprise to learn that the road block had been set up for an entirely different purpose.

The state highway patrolman informed them that a truckload of auto parts had been hi-jacked during the night on a lonely stretch of road between the towns of Silverton and Grove City, some miles away. The truck was known to have followed the mountain road, making for the state line, yet had seemed to disappear into thin air.

“Somehow those birds get wind of where our road blocks are set up,” the highway patrolman had said. “The hi-jackers have a hide-out. When we’re not on their trail, they slip off the road somewhere and wait until the coast is clear.”

The bold tactics of the hi-jackers were of intense interest to the girls because of their own meeting with two of the men believed to be members of the gang.

Nor had Judy erased from her mind the fact that only a few hours earlier, she had seen the man she believed to be Joe Pompilli.

She was reflecting upon the matter as the station wagon driver let the girls off at Calico Cottage. Why, she wondered, had Lowell Diethelm been so certain that she was mistaken in the identification?

“He seemed honest enough in thinking that the man was a regular trucker on the road,” she thought. “But if I were right, and Diethelm made a mistake--”

Her reflections were interrupted by Kathleen, who nudged her in the ribs.

“Why so sober, Judy?”

“I was just speculating on those hi-jackers, Kathy,” Judy replied as they started across the dew-laden lawn. “I’m more than half convinced that we made a bad mistake last night.”

“You think we let Joe Pompilli get away?”

“We must have. Kathy, he and that other fellow we didn’t know, may have been killing time at the restaurant, waiting for that truckload of auto parts to go through town! Then, they merely followed, and picked the truck off at a convenient spot on the road.”

“That makes a nice sounding explanation,” Kathleen chuckled. “But there’s one bad flaw in your reasoning.”

“Two of ’em,” Judy admitted with a grin. “First, it doesn’t seem logical that Joe Pompilli would dare show up in this area when he must know that state highway patrolmen are on the alert.”

“He was badly hurt in that accident too,” Kathleen added.

“Maybe not as seriously as we thought. The other defect in my theory is that Lowell Diethelm positively identified him as a regular trucker on the road.”

“That’s the part one can’t get around,” Kathleen nodded soberly. “Either the patrolmen made a mistake in identifying an ordinary trucker as Joe Pompilli, or Lowell Diethelm has been misled.”

“In either case, I guess it’s too late for us to do anything about it now,” Judy admitted. “We had our chance, and we muffed it.”

Walking carefully so that they would not soak their shoes with the heavy dew, the girls tramped across the lawn to the back door of Calico Cottage.

Miss Meadows, who had seen them coming, flung open the door.

“I’m ashamed to have telephoned you,” she apologized. “Have you had breakfast?”

“An early one,” Judy replied as she and Kathleen entered the warm kitchen. “If those are muffins I smell, we can eat another one though!”

“Blueberry muffins,” Miss Meadows smiled, peeping into the oven. “You arrived at just the right time, for they’ll be done in three minutes.”

“Aunt Mattie, why did you send such an urgent telephone message?” Judy asked abruptly. “You said it wasn’t the ghost again.”

“No, the basement was quiet enough last night.”

“Then what did happen?”

“I know you think I’m nervous and silly--”

“No such thing, Aunt Mattie.”

“It was those lights that bothered me again. Now that it’s morning, I feel much better about it. But last night, and until after I telephoned, I felt so jittery.”

“Lights on the private road?” Judy questioned.

Miss Meadows did not answer until after she had removed the muffins from the oven. Then she said:

“I awoke about two o’clock, I’d judge. I can’t explain it, but I had a strong feeling that something was wrong. I lay there in bed for awhile, listening. I could hear the muffled rumble of a big truck engine.”

“Nothing so unusual about that, Aunt Mattie. A great many trucks pass on the main highway, even at night.”

“This truck didn’t pass,” Miss Meadows said impressively. “I saw the lights flash past my bedroom window. Because I was nervous and couldn’t sleep, I got up and looked out. I saw the truck stop, and the lights went off. Then the truck turned down that old road.”

Judy and Kathleen had listened attentively to Miss Meadows’ account. They exchanged a quick glance but remained silent.

“I suppose there’s no occasion to be bothered about a truck turning down a private road,” Judy’s aunt chattered on. “It shouldn’t worry me, I know. But I kept imagining all sorts of things, wondering if those men might be hi-jackers.”

“Aunt Mattie, we don’t consider you one bit silly to be nervous about it,” Judy said quickly. “You didn’t telephone the state highway patrol?”