Читать книгу The Girl Scouts at Singing Sands - Mildred A. Wirt - Страница 6

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“WHY, that crazy Pete!” Judy cried as she saw the dog disappear into the opening. “He went into the cave!”

Worried lest the pet lose himself in the dark cavern, the girls quickly ran back to the shelf of projecting rock.

Anxiously, Judy peered into the deep, rather terrifying hole.

“Pete!” she called. “Pete! Come back here!”

The little dog could not be seen, but the girls heard a muffled, answering bark. It seemed to come from far down in the bowels of the rock.

“He’s a long distance in,” Judy said anxiously. “What’ll we do, Ardeth? Go after him?”

“No, we don’t dare,” the other decided. “It’s dangerous to explore caves without taking precautions. Besides, Miss Ward is expecting us at the cottage.”

“Pete may never find his way out. That’s what worries me.”

The dog’s smothered bark gradually faded until no sound could be heard. Thrusting head and shoulders into the hole, Judy tried again to catch a glimpse of the truant pet.

“Not a sign of him,” she reported hopelessly. “All we can do is report to Bart Ranieau. He was such a nice little dog—”

“Do you see him?” Ardeth demanded as Judy broke off her remark.

For a long moment, Judy made no reply. Then she pulled her head out of the opening, staring at her friend rather wide-eyed.

“What’s wrong?” Ardeth questioned. “Did you see a ghost?”

“You look down there in that hole,” Judy urged. “Tell me what you see.”

Ardeth moved in close beside her, peering into the darkness. A gust of wind ruffled her hair and nearly bowled her headlong into the cave. She grasped a projection of limestone rock for support.

“See it?” Judy demanded.

“Pete, you mean?”

“No! No! Look far down the passageway, Ardeth.”

Try as she would, Ardeth could see nothing save empty space. Now that her eyes were becoming more accustomed to the blackness, she could make out a white rock floor, and on the ceiling, a wet patch where grew a tight mat of lichens. But that was all.

“Look down,” Judy directed again. “I’m sure I didn’t imagine that I saw something moving in the passageway.”

Once more Ardeth directed her gaze below, and involuntarily stiffened.

“Now I see it!” she exclaimed. “Why, it looks like a moving light!”

“I thought so too,” Judy agreed. “You don’t suppose anyone could be down there?”

“At this late hour?”

“It doesn’t seem likely, does it?”

“Maybe Calico Cave has a ghost,” Ardeth declared with a nervous giggle. “Wouldn’t that be something!”

Judy had peered into the cave again. “The light is moving away, descending the passageway,” she reported. “Ardeth, Pete may have started down there to investigate.”

“If he did, he’s welcome to the job! Just to look down into that ink well gives me the jitters. Poor Pete! We’ll never see him again, I’ll bet.”

“Someone will have to get him out,” Judy insisted. “It would be too heartless to let him die in there. Miss Ward will know what to do.”

Though she would not have admitted it, the moving light which seemed to have no explanation, had somewhat unnerved her. With dusk coming on, she was eager to be away from the lonely locality.

“Okay,” Judy agreed reluctantly.

Before getting up from the crouched position, she took a last look into the cave. The light had vanished completely and Pete likewise could not be seen.

“Since we can’t save Pete without risking our safety, I guess we may as well hike for Calico Cottage,” Ardeth declared quickly.

The chill of evening was in the air as the two girls silently trudged back the way they had come. A rising breeze whipped the evergreens overhead, making ragged shadows, and causing the needles to whisper mournfully. Far below, the White River remained visible in the dying sunlight, a wide, shining band of silvery blue.

At Calico Cottage, supper was nearly ready. Judy and Ardeth, however, had little appetite. Dejectedly, they related their discovery of the cave, and their misfortune in losing Pete.

“You were wise not to try to venture into that hole,” Miss Ward assured the two girls. “The dog may wander out by himself. Even if he is lost, the risk of trying to bring him out without a guide, would be very great.”

“You really think Pete will get out by himself?” Judy asked, brightening.

“He may. At any rate, he’ll survive for many days. I’ll telephone the young milkman and tell him his dog is lost. You’re certain the pet was his?”

“It was Pete, all right,” Ardeth answered. “He acted as if he’d been in that cave before too.”

“Then there’s an excellent chance he may find his way out,” the troop leader asserted. “I’ll telephone the dog’s owner now. Do you recall his name, Judy?”

“Bart Ranieau.”

Miss Ward went directly to the telephone, but was unable to contact the young man. She learned that he roomed in the village, and was informed by his landlady that after coming in from his milk route, he had left without saying where he intended to go.

“If we can’t get word to him by tomorrow morning, I’ll notify the forest rangers,” Miss Ward decided. “They’ll know how to proceed.”

As night came on, the girls washed all the dishes and tidied the kitchen. The very nearness of the cave and the knowledge that Pete was lost somewhere in its vast recesses, tended to depress them.

Virginia spoke somewhat wistfully of Pine Cone Camp, speculating upon whether or not the other Scouts might be having a ceremonial fire and singfest there.

“We’re cut off from the fun here,” Judy acknowledged. “It’s my fault too. If Aunt Mattie hadn’t sent that telegram, we’d all be in camp together.”

“Considering the mix-up over reservations, the sleeping arrangement is much better here,” Ardeth declared. “Besides, we don’t want your aunt to have this cottage if it isn’t suitable.”

“It’s a Girl Scout’s duty to be useful and to help others,” added Virginia gravely. “At any rate, we like Calico Cottage.”

“I can’t see anything wrong with the place,” Ardeth picked up the conversation. “Of course, it’s isolated and a bit lonely off here in the pines. Now and then that musty odor hangs over the place, and one can’t seem to localize it. The cottage isn’t really damp.”

“I’ve been annoyed by that odor myself,” said Miss Ward. “It was especially strong when first we opened up the cottage. I wonder if it comes from the cellar?”

“With that door locked, we can’t investigate,” Judy responded. “What do you suppose became of the key? And why did Mr. Krumm advise us to keep the door locked? Those questions keep going around in my mind.”

The evening passed slowly for the girls. Ardeth sewed and the others tried to read. As a chill crept over the cottage, Miss Ward lighted a heater which made the living room more cheerful. By eight-thirty, everyone was ready to go to bed.

“We must be abroad early in the morning,” Miss Ward warned. “Breakfast at seven. The camp station wagon will pick us up between eight-thirty and nine o’clock.”

Judy and Ardeth had elected to share one of the bedrooms, while Virginia and the teacher took the adjoining chamber. The mattresses were surprisingly comfortable.

Snuggling down into the covers, Judy closed her eyes, but was annoyed to discover that she was not sleepy. Ardeth, on the other hand, curled up like a kitten, and soon was breathing with deep regularity.

“What’s the matter with me anyhow?” Judy asked herself. “I guess I can’t take the comforts of home.”

For awhile, she stared out the open window, watching the movement of the pine trees. A strong, cool breeze had arisen. It flapped the calico draperies and whistled around the corners of the flimsily-built cottage.

Judy resolutely tried not to think of Calico Cave or poor Pete, but the harder she struggled to banish the unpleasant recollection, the more clearly it emerged. She could visualize the little dog, wandering helplessly deeper and deeper into the cavern, always searching for an exit which never materialized.

“I’m becoming positively morbid!” she told herself sternly. “Enough of this!”

Judy tossed off the blankets and taking care not to disturb Ardeth, went quickly to the kitchen for a drink of water.

The cottage was very still. Now that she was abroad, Judy began to regret that she had left her comfortable, warm bed. The kitchen was icy cold and the only light came from a half moon which shone eerily through the windows.

Judy drank a glass of water in the darkness, preferring not to disturb any of the sleepers by switching on a light. In the kitchen, the damp, unpleasant odor which the girls had noted earlier, seemed especially strong.

“I’m sure it comes from the basement,” she thought, sniffing the air close to the locked door. “Maybe this is why Mr. Krumm wants us to keep it closed. But what can cause such an odor?”

Judy had started to move away when she was startled by an unusual sound which seemed to come from beneath the floor of the kitchen. The noise assaulted her ears as a series of loud thumps.

“Gracious!” Judy thought, backing a step away from the locked cellar door. “What’s going on down there in the basement? Maybe this place does have a ghost!”

If the loud thumping, bumping noise had startled Judy, she was to suffer an even greater shock.

As she held herself rigid, straining to catch the slightest sound, there arose from below, the clear melodious notes of a flute!