Norton Carol
The Phantom Town Mystery

CHAPTER XXII
AN INTERESTING ARRIVAL

The road to Tombstone was narrow, rutty and lonesome. Every now and then it dipped down into a gravelly wash, arroyos in the making, that were, year after year, being deepened by the torrents that rushed down the not-distant mountain sides after a cloudburst. Along the banks of these dry creek-beds grew low cottonwood trees, making shelters behind which bandits might lurk if they were so inclined. But the girls, having been assured by Jerry that the train robbers had long since crossed the Mexican border, were not really fearful. For once, even Mary was not using her imagination to a frightening extent.

“Big Brother,” she said, “I was just thinking about that aviator friend of Patsy’s. Don’t you think it must be wonderful to be flying at night up under those lovely white stars? They look so close to the earth here in Arizona as though Harry Hulbert might almost have to weave his way among them.”

Jerry, evidently more desirous of talking of stars than of the aviator of the “Seagull,” stated matter-of-factly, “It’s the clear air here that makes the stars look so large and close – sort of like lanterns hung in a blue-black roof over our heads.”

Just then a huge star shot across the heavens leaving a trail of fire. Mary whirled to call back, “Oh, Dora, did you wish on that shooting star?”

“Nope! Didn’t see it!” was the laconic reply.

“Did you?” Jerry asked in a low voice. How he hoped Mary had echoed his wish, but what she said was, “Yes, I hoped the Seagull would make a safe landing. It must be terribly dangerous landing among so many mountain peaks, or, one might even be forced down in the middle of a barren stretch of desert, oh, miles from water or anyone!”

If Jerry were disappointed, he made no comment. Dora leaned forward to call, “From the top of the next little hill we’d ought to be able to see the lights of Tombstone, hadn’t we, Jerry?”

“I reckon we will, lest be the power plant’s out of commission.”

The rather feeble lights of the rattly old car did little to illumine the well of darkness in which they were riding. The wash they were crossing was wide and deep and the girls were both glad when they climbed that last little hill and were nearer the stars again. From the top, they could see the black wall of mountains to the distant right of them, which Jerry had called “The Dragoons.” A desert valley at its foot stretched away for many miles shimmering in the starlight. Not far ahead of them was a cluster of sand hills – “the silver hills” – on which stood the small mining-town of Tombstone. The power plant was in order, as was evidenced by the twinkling of lights. A friendly group of them marked the main street, and scattered lights, farther and farther apart, were shining from the windows of homes. Down the little hill the car dropped, then began the last long climb up to the town.

On the main street there were unshaven, roughly dressed men, some from the range, others from the mines, loitering about in front of a lighted pool hall. They were talking, some of them excitedly, about the recent train robbery. Jerry drew his car to the curb and leaped out. Three young cowboys called a greeting to him. He replied in a friendly way, but turned at once to assist Mary. Dick and Dora followed the other two into a low adobe building labeled “Post Office.” A light was burning in a small back room. Jerry opened the door and entered. A middle-aged man, whose gauntness suggested that he had come there to be cured of the “white plague,” smiled affably. “Evening, Jerry-boy,” he said. “Wait till I get this message. The wires are keeping hot tonight along of that train robbery.”

The uneven clicking of the instrument ended; the man scribbled a few words, called a lounging boy from a dark corner and dispatched him to Sheriff Goode. Jerry introduced his companions to Mr. Hale, then explained the object of their visit.

Mr. Hale shook his head. “Well, that’s just too bad,” he said. “I happen to know that Gray Bluffs country well. Stopped off when I first came West, health-hunting, but it didn’t agree with me there; nothing like this Tombstone shine and air to make sick lungs well.”

His tanned face and bright eyes told his enthusiasm, but he added quickly, “That won’t interest you any. What I started to say is that Gray Bluffs isn’t a real town, that is not now. It was, of course, when they first found gold in the bluffs, but it petered out, the post office moved to another place and so did the folks who’d lived there.”

“Did you ever hear of a woman named Burger over there?” Jerry asked.

“Sure! That was the name of the postmistress, Miss Kate Burger. She died, though, along about five years ago.”

Just then the instrument began an excited clicking. The operator turned his attention to it. “Say, that’s great!” he ejaculated as though addressing whoever was sending the message.

“Oh, Mr. Hale, have they caught the robbers?” Mary asked eagerly.

“No, not that.” The man was scribbling rapidly. “Say, hasn’t that kid – oh, here you are, Trombone. Take this back to the Deputy Sheriff’s office. Dep’s been loco all day.” Then to the interested listeners, he explained, “He’d been promised the help of an air scout from the East; thought maybe he’d had a smashup; was due this morning early. Well, that last message was from the head office of the border patrol. The air scout will be along any time now.”

“Oh, Mr. Hale, is his name Harry Hulbert?” Mary, her pretty cheeks flushed, listened eagerly for the answer.

“Don’t know! Haven’t heard! Say, Jerry.” The man looked up quickly, and Dora thought she’d never seen such keen, eagle-like eyes. “You boys had better drop out the back way if you can. Dep Goode is rounding up all the able-bodied fellows he can find for the next posse that’s to start as soon as this air pilot does a little scouting.”

Mary, suddenly panicky at the idea, caught the cowboy’s arm. “Oh, Big Brother,” she cried, forgetting that the name would sound strange to a man who knew that Jerry had no sisters, “can’t we get away somehow before we’re seen?”

Jerry looked at her tenderly, but shook his head. “No, I cain’t dodge my duty. I must volunteer!” Then, to the other boy, “Dick, you drive the girls back to Gleeson, will you? I reckon the Deputy Sheriff’ll let you off. He isn’t after tenderfoot help, meaning no harm, they’d be more of a hindrance.”

Dick flushed, but knowing that Jerry always meant whatever he said in the kindest way, he expressed his disappointment. “Oh, I say, Jerry, can’t I come back after I’ve taken the girls home? I’d like awfully well to hang around and watch what happens. I’ll promise not to get underfoot or be in the way.”

Before Jerry could reply, Mary caught his coat sleeve and exclaimed, her eyes like stars, “Hark, don’t you hear an airplane?”

They all listened and heard distinctly from above the hum of a motor. Dick sprang toward the door. “Come on, everyone, let’s be among those present on the reception committee,” he said. Then, remembering his manners, he stepped back and held the door open for the girls to pass out.

“Good night, Mr. Hale, and thanks a lot,” Mary called with her sweetest smile.

“Hope you’ll all drop in again.” The man had only time to nod before his attention was again called to the busy little instrument.

Out in the street, there were many more men. As the news of the robbery had spread by horseback riders and remote ranch telephones, men had galloped into town eager to offer their services. Now they all stood or sat their horses, silent, for the most part, as they watched the great silver bird which was slowly circling round and round over their heads.

The moon had risen above distant peaks and was high enough to make the street dimly lighted.

“Oh, it must be Harry!” Mary whispered excitedly as she clutched Jerry’s arm not knowing that she did so. “That plane is as silvery as a seagull, just as Patsy and Polly wrote us.”

“Wonder why he doesn’t land,” Dick commented.

“I reckon there isn’t but one safe landing place in this town, and that’s right here where the crowd is standing. This square, out front of the post office, has been landed on before now.”

“See! Something’s falling from the plane.” Dora pointed upward. “It’s a small something! What can it be?”

The object fell like a plummet and landed at their feet. “It’s an aluminum bottle. Oh, look! There’s a note attached to it.” Dora picked it up.

“Here comes Deputy Sheriff Goode,” Jerry told the others. “Give it to me! I’ll hand it to him.”

The Deputy Sheriff’s restless horse did not stop prancing while the man opened and read the note. Then he flung it to the ground, pocketing the small bottle.

Dick, feeling sure that the message had not been of a private nature, picked it up and with the aid of his flash he read: “Whirl a lantern, will you, where I’m supposed to land. A. S. H. H.”

“A. S. means air scout, of course,” Dick said.

“And H. H. is Harry Hulbert. Oh, Dora, think of our meeting Patsy’s aviator.” Mary’s eyes were shining with excitement.

Jerry could not help hearing Dora’s reply. “Not Patsy’s!” was said teasingly. “Remember this young hero was chosen for you.”

“Oh, silly!” Mary retorted, but her rebuke did not seem to be voicing displeasure.

“Move back! Move back everyone! Scuttle! Five seconds to clear this square!” Cowmen on horseback were acting as mounted police and were so effective that in short order the big square was vacant and ready for the landing.

CHAPTER XXIII
A SILVER PLANE

There was an almost breathless silence for a moment as the small silver plane swooped gracefully down and made an easy landing; then the enthusiasm of the crowd burst forth in shouts of welcome.

“Say, Kid, you’re all right!”

“That’s the kind of a cayuse to be riding!”

“A silver airship for the silver city!”

“Hurrah for the skidder of the skies!”

Horses on the outskirts of the crowd, unused to such commotion, reared and pranced on their hind legs. Then, seeming to believe that something might be lacking in the warmth of their welcome, a cowboy shot off his gun into the air. Instantly Deputy Sheriff Goode shouted for silence.

“Nixy on that!” he commanded. “All of you fellows get to shootin’ an’ we won’t do much creepin’ up on the gang.”

“Goodness!” Mary said to Jerry. “He must think those bandits are hiding somewhere near here. They couldn’t possibly hear the shooting if they were over the border in Mexico, could they?”

The cowboy shook his head. “It’s just that he doesn’t want to take any chances, I reckon.” Then, generously, he added, “You girls will want to meet Harry Hulbert, won’t you? He’s talking to the ‘Dep’ now. Jehoshaphat! That’s too bad. He’s going right up again.”

“I guess the Deputy Sheriff wants Harry to start in scouting and not waste time visiting with girls,” Dora remarked.

“Back! Back everyone!” the deputized cowboys rode around the square, clearing it again, for the curious and interested crowd had pressed close to the plane.

“There, up she goes! Whoopee!” Some cowboy shouted in Mary’s ear. “Me for the air!” he waved his sombrero so close that it fanned her cheek.

“Ain’t that the plumb-beatenest way to go places?” another cowboy was actually addressing Dora in such a friendly manner that she replied in like spirit, “Yes, it’s great!”

Jerry turned to Dick. “Take the girls back to where we left the car, will you? I’m going to speak to Goode. Be over in a minute.”

“Oh, Big Brother,” Mary caught his hand, “don’t do anything that might be dangerous, will you? It would be terrible for your mother if anything happened to you.”

Hope and love had, for a moment, lighted the cowboy’s eyes, but the last part of Mary’s importuning had seemed to be entirely for another, and so, as he turned away, Jerry’s heart was heavy.

Mary’s gaze, he noticed, had quickly turned from him up to the sky where a silver plane was still discernible riding toward the moon.

Dick took an arm of each girl and the crowd made a path for them.

“I like these cowmen and boys, don’t you, Dora?” Mary had climbed into the rumble with her friend. “They have such nice, kind faces and they’re so picturesque with their wide hats and colored shirts and handkerchiefs.”

Dora nodded. “There’s a boy over there on horseback. See his leather chaps are fringed and he has spurs on his boots.”

“They act as though this was some sort of a celebration, don’t they, Dick?”

The boy was leaning against the car watching the milling throng which was being augmented in numbers by newcomers riding in from the dark desert.

“What’s the big show?” A weazened, grizzly-headed man in tattered clothes had suddenly appeared at Dick’s side. He had a canvas-covered roll strapped to his back and carried a stout stick. His pinched face was starved-looking and his eyes were feverishly bright.

Dick explained what was happening and, without a word, the queer creature scuttled out of sight in the crowd.

“That poor man!” Mary exclaimed sympathetically. “What can he be?”

“Don’t ask me,” Dick replied. “I haven’t been out here long enough to know all the types.”

A pleasant voice said, “That’s a typical desert rat. He digs around and sometimes finds a little gold, but mostly he lives on sand, I reckon.”

Mary recognized the speaker as a clerk in the grocery store. Before she could ask more about the poor unfortunate, someone hailed their informant and he hurried away.

Jerry returned and his face was grave. “I hardly know what to say,” he began. “I don’t want to frighten you girls unnecessarily, but Deputy Sheriff Goode thinks it would be unwise for you to return over that lonely road to Gleeson tonight, or, at least not until the hiding place of the bandits has been discovered.”

“Oh, Jerry!” Mary’s one thought was concern for her father. “I must let Dad know that I am safe and that I may not be home at once. Won’t you please telephone him? You will know best what to say.”

“Yes, I’ll be back in a minute.” They watched him pushing his way toward the one drug store in the town.

Mary turned toward Dick. “Now, what does that mean, do you suppose?”

“I think it merely means that the ‘Dep’ isn’t sure that the robbers did cross into Mexico. He thinks they may be hiding nearer here than that.”

“I thought as much,” Dora commented, “when he was so upset because a cowboy started shooting.”

Jerry was not gone long. “I explained to your mother, Dick. She said Mr. Moore is asleep and that she will not waken him. Her advice is that you girls take a room in the little old hotel here and wait until morning.”

The girls were relieved as they had neither of them relished the idea of returning over that desolately lonesome road with bandits at large.

Jerry was continuing. “Mrs. Goode runs the hotel and she’s just as nice and friendly as she can be. The mothering sort. Dick, you stay here in the car, will you, while I escort the girls across the road?”

“With the greatest of pleasure!” the Eastern boy said.

Dora teased, as she permitted him to assist her out of the rumble. “You ought not to say that you’re pleased to have us leave you.”

“Not that; NEVER!” Dick assured her, then in a low voice he confided, “I’ve been wild to be in on all this, and if I’d been sent home with you girls, I – ”

Dora laughingly interrupted. “You might have been in it more than any of the others.” She shuddered at the thought. “We three might have – ”

“Now, who’s using her imagination?” Mary inquired. Then, after scanning the heavens, she added, “Big Brother, the Seagull has flown entirely out of sight, hasn’t it?”

“I reckon it has. Back in a minute, Dick.”

Mary and Dora were thrilled with excitement and thought all that was transpiring a high adventure, although they were a little troubled, fearing that the three boys in whom they were interested might be in danger before the night was over.

The old adobe two-story building to which Jerry led the girls was across the wide square from the post office. The large office was filled with people, most of them women of the town who had gathered there. Many had come from the lonely outskirts. They had been afraid to stay alone in their homes while their men were bandit-hunting.

Jerry soon saw the pleasant face of the rather short, plump Mrs. Goode. He led the girls to her and explained their presence.

“So you are Mary Moore grown up!” the woman said kindly. “I knew your mother well when she came here as a bride. Everyone loved her in these parts; they sure did.” Then, to the tall cowboy who stood waiting, although impatient to be away, she assured him, “I’ll take good care of them, don’t fear!”

“I know you will. Good night, Mary and Dora.” The cowboy held out a hand to each then was gone.

Dora thought, “Oho, something has happened. There was no tenderness in that parting. Hum-m, what can it be? Ah, I believe I see light!”

Mary was saying, “I do hope that Harry Hulbert is all right. Isn’t it the most heroic thing that he is doing?”

“Who’s he, dearie?” Mrs. Goode, having heard, asked. “Oh, yes, the sky pilot. A nice face he has. I gave him a cup of coffee. His manners are the best ever. Well, come along upstairs. I’ll give you the front corner room where you can watch the goings-on, if you’d like that.”

“Oh yes, please do, Mrs. Goode. I never was more thrilled in all my days.” It was Dora speaking. “I know that I won’t sleep a single mite, will you, Mary?”

“I don’t intend to try,” that fair maid replied as they followed up the broad carpeted stairway and entered a plainly furnished hotel room. There were two large windows overlooking the square below and the girls, having said good night to their hostess, went at once to look down upon the crowd.

The men had divided into small groups and were talking earnestly together. A group of younger cowboys just in front of the hotel, were making merry. One of them strummed a guitar and several of them flung themselves about dancing wildly, improvising as they went along. Their efforts were applauded hilariously.

“No one would guess that they thought they might be going to battle with bandits before morning,” Mary said. Then she looked up at the moon-shimmered sky. For a long time she gazed intently at one spot.

“Is that a pale star or is it the little silver plane coming nearer?” she asked.

Dora watched the faintly glittering object, then exclaimed glowingly, “It surely is the Seagull. Oh, Mary, do you suppose Harry Hulbert has located those bandits?”

CHAPTER XXIV
A LONG NIGHT WATCH

Someone in the crowd saw the approaching plane. A shout went up which was augmented to a roar of welcome. Once again a space was cleared; this time without the command from the Deputy Sheriff.

The girls threw open the window and leaned out as the plane landed and the men closed in about it. How they wished they could hear what was being said. They saw Harry Hulbert leap out and, by his excited gestures, the girls were sure that he had made some discovery which he considered important.

“He seems to be pointing toward ‘The Dragoons.’” Mary looked over the scattered buildings of the town, across the gray desert to the dull red cliffs that loomed dark in the moonlight.

Dora caught her friend’s arm and held it tight. “Mary Moore,” she cried, “if we had gone home tonight, we would have passed the side road that leads to ‘The Dragoons,’ wouldn’t we?”

Mary nodded, but said nothing. She knew what her friend was thinking.

“Watch what they’re doing now. The sheriff is having the men who are armed show their guns. Here come boys from the jail bringing more firearms.” Mary turned a face, white with alarm. “Oh, Dora, don’t you wish this was all over? Look, Jerry and Dick and Harry are getting up on horseback. I do hope Harry knows how to ride. Good gracious, Dora, those three boys are going with the sheriff to lead the posse. Isn’t that terrible?”

“I don’t know as it is,” was the surprisingly calm reply. “Naturally Harry would be the one to lead the men to the place where he saw the bandits hiding.”

Women in the office of the hotel, seeing that their men were about to ride away, rushed out to bid them goodbye.

The young boys and old men were not taken. After the others were gone, there was an almost deathlike stillness down in the square. The women returned indoors. Old men, many of them gray-bearded, stood in groups on the sidewalks talking in low tones and shaking their grizzled heads ominously. The boys trooped over to the pool hall. The proprietor had been among the men who had ridden away and so the boys could play without charge which they did gleefully.

Mary sank down on a low rocker near the window and her sweet blue eyes were tragic as she gazed up at her friend. “Dora,” she said “if you were a boy, would you have dared to ride into a robber’s den the way – ”

“Sure thing,” was the brief reply. Dora still stood gazing at the desert valley. Although the road disappeared from their sight when it first dipped down from the town, she knew that the riders would again be visible as they crossed to “The Dragoons.”

“If we can see them crossing the valley, so can the bandits,” she said, thinking aloud. “Of course, the robbers must have look-outs if that’s what men are called who spy around to warn the others of danger.”

“There they are! There they are!” Mary leaped to her feet to point. Dark distant objects were moving rapidly across the moonlit sands of the valley.

Suddenly Mary turned, a new alarm expressed in her face. “Dora,” she cried, “now that only old men and boys are left here to protect this town, what if the bandits should circle around and rob the stores and the post office – ”

“And carry off the beautiful young damsels,” Dora laughingly added, “like a chapter out of an old-time story-book.”

“It may be amusing to you,” Mary seemed actually hurt, “but things do happen even now that are worse than anything I ever read in a book.”

“Righto! Ah agrees, as Sambo says.” Dora turned and slipped an arm about her friend, and then, as though trying to change her thought, she went on, “I wonder if that old darky and Marthy, his wife, will be working at Sunnybank Seminary next fall when we go back.”

“That all seems so far away and so long ago, almost like a dream,” Mary replied, as she gazed down at the silver plane which had been left in the care of the old men. They were walking around it now, looking it over with frank curiosity.

Dora tried again. “How I do wish Patsy and Polly were here! Pat, especially, would get a great ‘kick,’ as she’d call it, out of all this excitement.”

“More than I am, no doubt,” Mary confessed. “My imagination is getting wilder and wilder every minute. I’m expecting something awful to happen right here and – what was that?” She jumped and put her hand on her heart.

“Someone knocked on the door.” Dora went to open it. Mrs. Goode, looking anxious in spite of her smile, said, “Don’t you girls want something to eat? It’s almost midnight and you must be hungry.”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Goode, I suppose we are hungry. We’re so terribly nervous, I don’t know as we could eat, really.”

“Well, try, dearies. Here’s Washita with a tray.”

Washita was an Indian girl with black, furtive eyes and a red woolen dress. She also had red rags twined in with her long black braids. She carried a tray into the room. Silently, she placed it on a table and glided out. Mary shuddered unconsciously. “Indians give me the ‘shilly-shivers’ as Pat says.”

“Washita is harmless. I’ve had her for two years now. She’s almost the last of a powerful tribe of Apaches which, long ago, had ‘The Dragoons’ for their fortress,” Mrs. Goode was explaining, when Mary begged, “Oh, do tell us what you think the outcome of this raid will be. You know we have three dear friends in the posse.”

Dora thought, “Aha! Harry Hulbert is a dear friend, is he, even before we have met him.”

Mrs. Goode was replying. “I have a husband and two dearly loved sons among those men, but, they must do their duty. The life of a sheriff’s wife is one of constant fear. I am feeling sure, though, that they will all come back soon with their captives. The jail is ready for the bandits. Now I must go back to the office. If you want me, ring the bell. I’ll send Washita up for the tray – ”

“Oh, Mrs. Goode, please don’t! Somehow she startles me.” It was Mary imploring, although she knew her fears were foolish.

Mrs. Goode merely replied, “All right, dear. The tray can wait until morning.”

Dora moved the kerosene lamp from the bureau to the small table. Then they sat down and nibbled at the chicken sandwiches which had been temptingly made. The milk was creamy and Dora succeeded in finishing her share.

Mary, carrying a half-eaten sandwich, went to the window and looked across the desert. She whirled and beckoned, then pointed. “Don’t you see a horseman galloping this way?”

“I do see some object that seems to be coming pretty fast,” Dora conceded. “Now it’s out of sight below the silver hills.”

Almost breathless they waited until the horseman again appeared. “He’s probably the bearer of some sort of message,” Dora decided when the man leaped from his horse and ran into the hotel.

Mary had put the partly eaten sandwich back on her plate and sat with clenched hands waiting – hoping that they would soon learn the news which the man brought.

“Don’t expect the worst,” Dora begged.

Although Mary was hoping there would come a knock at their door, she jumped again when she heard it. Once more it was Dora who went to admit their caller. A young cowboy, hot and panting, stood there holding out an envelope.

“The writin’ ain’t in it, it’s on the back of it,” he informed them.

It had evidently been an old letter Dick had found in his pocket as it bore his name on the envelope. The scribbled note was:

“We’re all right. The worst is over. Surprised the men while they were all drunk except the sentinels. We’re fetching them in. Be back by daybreak. Better get some sleep now.” Dick’s name was signed to it.

“Thanks be.” Mary finished her sandwich when the cowboy was gone, while Dora, who was turning back the bedspread, said, “We’ll take Dick’s advice and go to sleep or at least try to.”

“Well, I’ll lie down,” Mary was removing her shoes as she spoke, “but I don’t expect to sleep a wink.”

They removed their outer clothing, then drew a quilt up over them. The boys from the pool room had crossed to hear the news and many of them returned to their homes with their mothers. They evidently believed implicitly that all of the bandits had been captured and so they had nothing to fear.

The humming of voices in the office was stilled and soon there were no sounds in the street below.

Dora, no longer anxious, went to sleep quickly and although Mary had been sure she wouldn’t sleep at all, at daybreak they neither of them heard the men returning. It was hours later when there came a rap on their door. Mary sat up looking about wildly. “Who’s there?” she called, almost fearfully, then remembering that all was well, she jumped up and opened the door a crack. Mrs. Goode smiled in at her. “Dearie,” she said, “Jerry sent me up to ask if you girls will come down to breakfast now.”

“Of course we will. Thanks a lot.” Still Dora slept on. Mary shook her laughingly as she said, “Wake up, Dodo! The hour is here at last when we are to meet Pat’s aviator.”

Dora sprang out of bed and hurriedly dressed. “I feel in my bones,” she prophesied, “that you and I will share in some excitement today. See if we don’t!”