Scott Morgan
Oakdale Boys in Camp
CHAPTER XXVI.
PIPER MEETS THE GHOST
Trembling violently, Piper looked in vain for the missing boat. For a moment or two he thought it possible he had made a mistake, and that this was not the place where he had landed; but further investigation convinced him against his will that the boat had been left there. The cause of its disappearance he could not understand, and for the time being he was too excited to reason about it. Had he been calmer, he might have become convinced that it had not drifted away of its own accord.
Twilight was enfolding the eastern shore of the lake, and, gazing yearningly in that direction, Sleuth saw the gleam of a light, which he felt certain came from the campfire on Pleasant Point. Doubtless his companions were there, all unaware of his frightful predicament, and even if he were to shout they might not respond. Hearing wild cries coming faintly across the lake, was it not possible, nay probable, that they would consider it in the nature of another “manifestation” from the haunted island? And should he fire his gun, would that bring them? At once he remembered, with a sensation of reprehension over his own neglect, that he had failed to take a supply of loaded cartridges, the two in the gun being the only ones in his possession. Were he to discharge them, he would be left practically unarmed upon the island.
“I can’t do that,” he whispered tremulously. “I can’t fire even one shot, for, if I should have to shoot at anything with the other barrel and I missed, I’d be in a dreadful fix. Oh, what’s become of that boat? What a fool I was to land here alone!”
In a feverish, unreasoning way he began hurrying pantingly along the shore, looking for the boat. This was a silly thing to do, but in a time of great excitement or distraction he is a remarkably self-possessed person who does not lose his head and do something foolish.
In order to follow the shore line of the island, Piper was compelled, at one spot where a low bluff rose directly from the water’s edge, to enter the border of the stunted pines which crowded close to the very brink of the bluff. He hesitated for a moment and drew back, shuddering; but almost immediately, holding the gun ready for use, he went forward, crouching low beneath the thick trees.
A sigh of relief was on his lips, and he was about to step forth again upon the open beach when, with a sudden tremendous jerk of every nerve in his body, he stopped. Barely more than thirty feet away he beheld a canoe that was raising scarcely a ripple on the lake as it glided slowly and silently toward the island. And it was not at all remarkable that the sight of the occupants of that canoe should mightily startle the boy who crouched in the pines.
In the prow of the canoe, apparently waiting to spring ashore, stood a huge, shaggy, gray dog. A man wielded the paddle – a man whose face was almost hidden by a long white beard, and whose garments, from the hat upon his head to the shoes he wore, were in color snowy white. In that moment it must have seemed to Piper that he surely beheld the ghosts of Old Lonely and his faithful dog.
Gently the canoe touched the gravelly beach, the dog leaping out at once. The man followed and turned to grasp a thwart, with the evident intention of pulling the canoe up.
A twig snapped beneath Piper’s feet as he stepped out of the pines and straightened up, the gun lifted to his shoulder and levelled, although it trembled and wavered in his grasp. Both man and dog heard that faint snapping sound. The former whirled quickly, while the latter bristled and growled.
“Stand still!” cried Sleuth chokingly. “Stand where you are, or I’ll shoot! Keep your dog off, if you don’t want him riddled!”
Growling, with its teeth exposed, the dog seemed ready to spring at the boy, but instantly the creature’s master spoke.
“Here, Bob,” he said sharply. “Steady, sir! Down! down!”
The creature obeying its master’s commands, Sleuth felt his courage rise with a sudden bound, although his tremendous excitement was not in the least abated. With an air of perplexed dismay the man remained standing at the water’s edge, his eyes fastened on the threatening figure of the boy. In that manner they gazed at each other for a few moments of intense, nerve-tingling silence. Presently the man spoke.
“Put down that gun,” he said. “If it’s loaded, you’re liable to make a mistake and shoot me.”
Exultantly Piper retorted:
“If you’re a ghost, it won’t hurt you to be shot; and if you’re not a ghost, you’d better explain your actions mighty quick.”
“Put down the gun,” repeated the man angrily. “I’m no ghost.”
“Ah!” breathed Sleuth in tremendous satisfaction; and he lowered the gun.
“What are you doing here?” questioned the person in white.
“Perhaps I was looking for you,” was the answer.
Beneath his breath the man muttered a word or two, smothered, but expressive of great annoyance and anger. The dog whined questioningly. Master of the situation, Piper waited, all the chill having gone from his body.
“I suspected you, you young rascal – I suspected you when you came prowling around my cabin,” said the man. “You were rather clever with your excuses and your pretence of great interest in my literary work, but I couldn’t help feeling that you had a hidden design.”
“Your premonition was correct, Mr. Granger,” said Sleuth. “Your glibness, when you visited us at Pleasant Point, in spinning the romantic story of Lovers’ Leap and the fantastic tale of the haunted island aroused my suspicions. You told those yarns altogether too well. That’s a beautiful Santa Claus set of whiskers you’re wearing.”
The man stroked his beard and laughed shortly, in spite of himself.
“Up to date they have served my purpose very well,” he returned; “but henceforth, as your remarkable cleverness has led you to catch on to the little game, I suppose I’ll have little use for them.”
“Your dog,” declared the triumphant boy, “was a dead give-away. You must have kept him tied up the most of the time, but when I saw him and noted his color, on the occasion of my friendly call upon you, I decided instantly that he would appear very well as a spook dog if seen in the darkness or through the twilight of evening. I’ve watched you every day since then, waiting for you to come here. At last my vigilance has been fully rewarded.”
“Well, now,” said Mr. Granger, for the man in white was indeed the somewhat seclusive young author, “you might come down here and give me a hand with the canoe. It’s light, and I can pull it up alone, as I have many times, but I’m not adverse to your assistance.”
“The dog – ”
“He won’t touch you. He’s the most harmless creature in the world.”
Piper descended at once, and together the man and boy lifted the light canoe, bore it across the narrow strip of beach and slid it into the shelter of some bushes, where it was entirely hidden from sight.
“Now,” said Granger, “if you wish a little amusement, I’ll show you how easy it is to make intelligent people believe in ghosts. It’s about time for a party from the hotel to come off in a boat with the keen desire of beholding the spirits of Old Lonely and his dog. They will approach the western side of the island. Come on.”
His nerves no longer quivering, Piper followed the man and the dog, chuckling to himself. All his fears of the black and gloomy pines had been dispelled, and it was with real difficulty that he kept from dancing and shouting. What would his friends say when he told them? He swelled tremendously with pride and self-importance as he pictured the manner in which he would unfold to them the story of his amazing discernment and sagacity. Surely, it would be an hour of triumph.
By the easiest available course Granger led the way to the western side of the island, pausing well within the shelter of the trees, yet selecting a place where he could command a view of the open lake in the immediate vicinity. The lights of the hotel shone brightly at the base of Lovers’ Leap. A gentle purple dusk was thickening upon the face of the water.
“They ought to appear within ten minutes,” said Granger in a low tone. “I want you to keep out of sight all the time, and I hope you’ll promise not to let them know by word or sign that you are here.”
“Go ahead,” said Sleuth. “I won’t expose you to them, and I’m really eager to watch the sport. But how do you know anyone is coming?”
“I received a message from the hotel, telling me that some of the guests would come out tonight to look for Old Lonely’s spirit. One of the bell hops brought me the message.”
“Oh, yes,” giggled Sleuth; “I saw him. I was watching your sylvan retreat when he brought that message, but I thought it was one of your stories returned from a publisher.”
“You’ve certainly put yourself to a lot of trouble,” muttered Granger. “As a doubting Thomas or Billy, you’re the real thing.”
In a few moments they heard the distant sound of oars and the low murmur of voices, and it was not long before, in the midst of the gloom, they beheld a dark object slowly drawing near, and knew it was the boat from the hotel.
“Now,” said Granger softly, “keep perfectly still and watch me materialize.”
He waited until the boat seemed to pause some rods from the shore. It contained a number of persons, whose words could be distinctly heard. One man was laughing in a boasting way as he told the others that it was all a ridiculous piece of folly, but a nervous, excited woman was begging him to keep still.
Crouching, Granger put his hand on the dog, whispering a command:
“Sing, Bob – sing.”
Immediately the animal lifted its muzzle and gave vent to the most doleful howling imaginable. Within four feet of the creature, Piper felt a momentary symptom of the emotion that had possessed him on the occasion when his ears were first greeted by that awesome sound.
From the boat there came sudden little exclamations and screams, both masculine and feminine.
“I told you!” one of the ladies was heard repeating triumphantly. “I’ve heard it before. Now watch; you’ll see something more.”
“Good boy, Bob,” whispered Granger, rising. “Easy, sir. Come.”
Very deliberately and very slowly he stepped forth from the darkness of the pines. In truth, he moved so slowly that at a distance, seen through the darkness, it might have seemed that he simply appeared, without taking any steps at all. Imitating his master, the dog likewise advanced until both stood out in view, with the dark trees as a background.
Still more excited exclamations rose from the party in the boat.
“There he is – there’s Old Lonely’s ghost!” palpitated the lady’s voice. “There’s his dog, too! See! see!”
“Let’s get nearer. Let’s land,” suggested a man. But, somehow, there was a false note in his words, which seemed to betray that he was not as eager to put his feet on the island as he wished the others to think him.
“I wouldn’t do it for all the money in the world,” declared the lady. “We’re near enough. Don’t move another inch toward that island.”
For thirty seconds, perhaps, Granger stood quite still; and then, stepping backward, he retreated as slowly, silently and deliberately as he had advanced; and in this manner he must have made it seem to the occupants of the boat that he actually faded and vanished from their view like a wraith. The dog also retreated slowly, although it turned about to do so.
“Great work,” chuckled Piper, as Granger crouched beside him. “But what if they do land?”
“They won’t,” was the whispered assurance. “They’ll go away directly.”
He was right. After lingering a few minutes, as if desiring again to see the “ghost,” the party in the boat rowed away, their oars clanking in the locks.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE SECRET
“I wish you’d tell me one or two things that I don’t quite understand, Mr. Granger,” said Sleuth, as they retraced their steps through the woods. “For instance, there’s the mysterious ticking of the unseen clock in the hermit’s hut.”
Granger chuckled a bit. “I’ve got a clock hidden there,” he said. “I took pains to hide it well, too.”
“Very clever,” said Sleuth. “But how about the mysterious rappings?”
“You observed that the old hut has fallen over until it touches one of those tall pines. When the wind blows, I fancy two of the limbs of that tree must knock together, and the sound, communicated along the trunk of the tree, is like that made by someone knocking.”
“Um,” said Piper; “simple. But when we were in the old ranch the day of the thunder-shower, we heard a low moaning following those knocking sounds.”
“I have heard that likewise when there was enough wind to move the door of the hut on its rusty hinges. It’s really a shame that you should catch me at this job, my boy, for it’s liable to deprive me of a steady remuneration, and my story writing scarcely provides a satisfactory income.”
“The hotel people have been paying you,” declared Piper. “That’s it, eh?”
“Sure. As I told you boys when I visited your camp, this hotel, being located some distance from a convenient railway station, didn’t succeed very well at first. Its methods of advertising were strictly conventional, and it was I who suggested something better in that line. Having heard the fable of Lovers’ Leap and the story of Old Lonely, I placed before the hotel proprietors a scheme through which I felt confident their place could be made very popular and attractive. It was I who advised them to place the white cross upon the cliff, and I wrote for them the story of the Indian lovers, which they are now using in their printed advertising. I urged them furthermore to make the most of the superstitious belief of some people that this island was haunted, and I agreed to do a few ghost stunts. You can see how easy it was for me, in collaboration with the hotel people, to carry this thing through. Two of the men from the hotel boathouse were rowing that boat, and, had the others insisted on landing upon the island, they would have pretended they were too frightened to do so. But it’s all over now. My lucrative profession as a spook is busted.”
“Now, really, that’s too bad,” said Sleuth, feeling sorry for the man. “If I don’t tell – ”
“But you will. You can’t keep it to yourself. I never saw a boy who could keep such a secret.”
“Is that so?” exclaimed Sleuth resentfully. “Perhaps, Mr. Granger, you haven’t got boys thoroughly sized up. There may be some who can’t keep their traps closed, but I want you to understand that I’m different.”
The man stopped and grasped Piper by the shoulder.
“Will you promise not to expose me – at least, not for a year?” he asked eagerly. “That would give me time enough. Another season at this ghost game ought to pack that hotel full, and I can get a regular monthly salary to do my part of the work.”
“I’ve always wanted to write stories,” said Sleuth shrewdly. “You seem to know something about that sort of business, and if you’ll put me wise to the game I’ll remain as dumb as an oyster about this spook trick.”
“You won’t tell your friends even?”
“Not a living soul,” vowed Piper.
“Well, I’m not sure that I can instruct you in the art of writing stories; I’ve a lot to learn myself. Nevertheless, I’ll do my best. If you have some natural ability in that line, it may be possible that you can write, but I can’t promise you any degree of success without knowing more of your talents.”
“It’s a bargain, Mr. Granger,” said Piper, putting out his hand in the darkness. “If you’ll do that, I’ll keep mum for a year or more, in case you ask it.”
They shook hands, sealing the pledge.
They had reached the canoe and were about to launch it when distant voices were heard calling:
“Sleuth – oh, Sleuth! Piper! Where are you?”
“Well, I’ll be hanged!” muttered the boy. “That’s some of my bunch. They’re over yonder somewhere. Confound their hides! Now I know who took my boat. Now I understand how I happened to be left here on this old island.”
The boys were still calling.
“You’d better answer them,” said Granger quickly. “Go to meet them. I’ll keep out of sight. Good by.”
“Good by, Mr. Granger. I’ll see you tomorrow about two o’clock at your cabin, if that’s agreeable.”
“That’s agreeable to me. Hustle now. Answer them quick.”
Piper hurried away, shouting a response to his friends, and when he reached the place where he had left his boat he saw them a short distance away upon the water. There were three of them. Two were in the canoe, while one occupied the boat Sleuth had hired.
“Well, it’s about time you fellows came back for me,” rasped Piper. “Thought you were playing a fine old game, didn’t you? You were having a lot of fun with me, weren’t you? Rather clever to sneak up and take my boat away, wasn’t it?”
“Gee!” said Springer, who was sitting in the boat. “Old Sleuthy is mighty hot under the cuc-collar.”
“Yes,” sneered Crane from the canoe; “I’ll bate he’s pretty nigh scat to death.”
“Oh, you will, will you?” scoffed Piper. “Well, don’t bet too much on it, for you’ll lose your money. You haven’t got nerve enough to come here even with somebody, but I’ve been all over the island alone.”
“Go ashore and take him off in the boat, Springer,” directed Grant. “He sure doesn’t seem very much frightened.”
Piper got into the boat as soon as Phil brought it to the shore.
“Just because you fellows are scarecrows yourselves,” he sneered, “you mustn’t get the idea that everyone else is a coward. Come on now, Springer, you can do the rowing as long as you have the oars. Let’s get to camp. I’m hungry for supper.”
“Sus-seen anything of the ghost?” asked Phil, with a laugh.
“Oh, piffle!” retorted Sleuth. “Ghosts don’t frighten me. Why, I’d be willing to stay alone all night on this island.”
“Yes, you would!” scoffed Springer, although he wondered that Sleuth betrayed no symptoms of perturbation other than those caused by resentment at the trick they had perpetrated upon him. “We’ve been waiting for you to holler. We took the boat and went round the little point yonder, where we’d be out of sight, and waited there.”
“Say,” called Crane from the canoe, “we heard a dog howlin’, and it seemed to be on the island, too. Did yeou hear it, Sleuth?”
“Sure,” was the careless answer; “I heard it. It was on the island, all right.”
“Pipe,” said Grant, “you’re really a wonder. I confess that I’ve never had you sized up just right. For pure, unadulterated nerve, you seem to have the rest of us roped and thrown.”
Sleuth’s chest expanded tremendously.
“You never can tell,” he retorted.
They were some distance from the island, making for the camp, in the vicinity of which the fire, tended by Stone, could be seen gleaming cheerfully, when suddenly, behind them, rose the long drawn howling of a dog, hearing which, Springer jerked nervously at the oars and put greater energy into his stroke.
“There it is!” he cried. “Great Scott! it mum-makes my blood run cuc-cold!”
“Your blood,” scoffed Sleuth – “your blood is about as thick as water.”
“Look!” said Phil.
They looked back. In the border of the pines a light like a gleaming eye winked at them several times and vanished. Piper was the only one who knew that it must be a strong electric torch with a reflector, operated by Mr. Charles Granger.
Sleuth kept his word to Granger; not even a hint of the real solution of the mystery did he breathe to his campmates. They wondered at his surprising courage, for, accepting their challenge to do so, he permitted them to place him on the island and leave him there alone late one afternoon, and there he remained until they came to take him off an hour before midnight.
“Spooks,” said Piper, “are really sociable and friendly when you come to know them well. You never heard of one of them actually hurting a live person. As far as Old Lonely was concerned, I think he must have been a pretty decent sort when he was alive, even though he was tempted to rob a bank, and I haven’t the slightest notion that he’d harm anyone now he’s dead.”
Every afternoon during the remainder of the outing Piper visited Mr. Granger at the latter’s cabin. He explained to his friends that the young author was teaching him to write stories, and their newly acquired respect for Sleuth’s courage prevented them from joshing him much about this. Indeed, he was permitted to do practically as he pleased around the camp, taking advantage of which, he allowed his companions to perform all the labor, while he lounged around and dreamed of the day when he would write a detective yarn that should make the fascinating tales of “Old Sleuth” seem tame and feeble by comparison.
Twice Granger came to the boys’ camp and spent a sociable hour with them. He and Piper seemed to be on the most friendly terms, and once they were detected laughing slyly over a joke that was not explained at that time to the rest of the boys.
Jim Simpson also came frequently with supplies from the farm, and sometimes he talked with Grant about cowboy life, for he still clung to the hope that he would follow such a career when he became his own master.
Peace was formally declared between Sile Crane and Carl Duckelstein, and more than once the Dutch boy fished unmolested from the point.
At last the end of the outing came, as the end to all pleasant things must come, and the boys pulled down their tent, packed up, and their outfit was transported to Pemstock by Carl. Ere leaving the camping ground, they paused to give a rousing cheer. And as they marched away Springer cast a regretful look over his shoulder in the direction of Spirit Island.
“Too bad,” he said. “You’ve got plenty of nerve, Sleuth, but it’s too bad you couldn’t solve the mystery of that old island.”
Piper simply smiled.
These experiences, of course, only increased Piper’s interest in solving mysteries and his belief in his own genius in that line. During the fall immediately following his adventures in the summer camp, the Sleuth scented a secret nearer home. With his usual caution he followed the scent and made deductions, and the results surprised even him. The story is all told in “The Great Oakdale Mystery,” the fifth volume of the Oakdale Academy Series.
