The Motor Girls at Camp Surprise: or, The Cave in the Mountains

“Why shouldn’t we go down there?” asked Paul. “It’s nothing but a cellar.”

“Cellar!” ejaculated Jack. “We’ll find this more than a cellar I’m thinking!”

“Well, the steps are just like cellar stairs,” said Paul.

“Except they’re of stone,” added Walter, “and that passage isn’t going to prove as prosaic as a cellar, I’m thinking.”

“How did you come to open it, Jack?” asked Hazel.

“That’s what I can’t tell you,” was the answer. “It seemed to open of itself when the axe, or something, hit on the hidden spring. It’s a secret door to a secret passage, and the land knows what we may find at the end.”

“Why, it’s just like in a book or a play!” gasped Belle.

“More like a play,” said Cora. “They have sliding doors like this on the stage where the spirits appear and disappear.”

“That’s it!” cried Jack, as if an idea had suddenly come to him.

“What’s what?” Walter demanded.

“This is where the spirits came from – the spirits that have been having fun with the furniture,” Jack went on. “Don’t you see? They came up through this secret door, did what they pleased, and went down again, closing the door after them by means of some secret mechanism.”

“You’re not so far wrong at that,” remarked Paul, examining the queer sliding door in the floor with a mechanic’s eye. “This is a pretty piece of work. You seem to have smashed the operating part of it with your axe, Jack, or at least the part of it that opened the door from this side. It slides back and forth though,” and Paul rolled the section of the flooring to and fro.

“Don’t close it!” cried Walter. “You might shut it so we couldn’t get it open again. We want to explore that passage.”

“That’s what!” came from Jack. “This is where the furniture-movers came from all right.”

“Though why they should want to upset chairs is more than I can account for,” commented Walter.

“We’ll find out when we go down there,” suggested Paul. “Wait until I take a look at this apparatus. We don’t want it closing over our heads after we get down there.”

The sliding door, or rather the section of flooring, was comparatively simple in arrangement. It was made so that it could be dropped down two inches, and then it could be rolled under the floor on small steel wheels, which ran on projecting strips of wood.

As Paul had said, Jack, by a blow of his axe, had destroyed the spring that controlled the mechanism, but this very chance blow of the implement had revealed the secret. Probably there was one certain board which, when pressed on, or shifted, operated the sliding door. And so cleverly was it fitted into the floor, and so tight was the joining, that the presence of it would never have been seen. Only by chance had they happened upon it.

“Well, who’s going down?” asked Jack, as they stood looking into the opening. “We’ll need lights, though.”

“I have my flash,” said Walter. Paul, it developed, had his also. Both were powerful pocket electric torches, with dry storage batteries.

“We’ll all go,” suggested Paul.

“No you won’t!” cried his sister. “We’re not going to be left here alone, with that queer noise likely to happen at any time.”

“I guess there won’t be any more noise, now that we have discovered this,” said Jack, significantly. “This is where it came from all right.”

“But what caused it?” asked Bess.

“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” said Walter. “Come on, boys. Into the secret passage!”

“I’ll stay with you girls,” said Mr. Floyd. “Let the boys investigate all they like. But this sure does beat me! To think this bungalow had this concealed under the floor all the while, and I never knew it.”

“No wonder this was named Camp Surprise,” said Cora.

“I don’t believe even them folks that give it that name suspected anything like this,” Mrs. Floyd remarked.

“We’ll take all the surprise out of it before we’re through,” Jack said, as he started down the stone steps. Walter and Paul followed, their flashes switched on. The stone steps proved to be made of cement well moulded, and there were ten of them, which led to a flat place under the bungalow, the floor of which was now three feet above the boys’ heads. They found themselves standing in a rectangular space, with heavy planks on the sides.

“Is it just a cellar?” called Mr. Floyd from up above, where he stood at the edge of the opening, with the girls and his wife.

“There’s a long narrow passage leading off somewhere,” Jack called back. “We’ll investigate. It doesn’t seem to be just a cellar though.”

“Be careful,” warned Cora, as the boys passed out of sight of those who were watching.

Jack, Walter and Paul found themselves in what was practically a planked passageway, about four feet wide and eight feet in height. There was a musty, damp smell to it, and when they had walked on a few feet over the hard-packed dirt floor, Jack said:

“This goes beyond the bungalow.”

“What do you mean?” asked Walter.

“I mean that we have passed beyond the limits of the bungalow. This passage extends back under the ground, perhaps into the mountain.”

“Maybe right into that cave we found to-day,” suggested Paul.

“It might be,” agreed Walter. “There’s something queer about this – something big, too. Keep on, and we’ll find where this passage leads to. It’s been built some time, that’s evident.”

This was shown by the fact that the planking on the sides and overhead was old, and rotted in some places. And the ground underfoot was packed so hard that it gave no evidences of footprints or other marks.

Wondering what lay before them, the boys pressed eagerly forward. And then, after a sudden turn, the passage came to an abrupt end. They found themselves up against a stone wall, a veritable, and not figurative one.

“Well, what do you know about this!” exclaimed Jack in chagrin.

“This is the end,” said Paul.

“Perhaps not,” asserted Walter. “This passage must lead somewhere. Nobody would go to all this work making it, only to block it off in this fashion. And it’s blocked off solidly enough, too,” he added as he banged his fist against the stone. Like the steps it seemed to be of cement.

“Isn’t there any way of opening that?” asked Jack.

“There doesn’t seem to be,” Paul said, examining it closely. “Looks to be pretty solid.”

“Can’t be,” declared Jack. “Else how could those spirits or boys get through and up into the bungalow to play tricks with the furniture?”

“If they were spirits a stone wall wouldn’t stop them,” Paul said. “But we can’t do anything more to-night.”

“Can we at any time?” asked Walter.

“Sure!” cried Jack. “We’ll get crowbars to-morrow and tear down this cement wall. Then we’ll find what’s at the other end of the passage. Now come on back and tell the girls.”

They found their friends eagerly waiting, though there was some disappointment when the boys reported finding nothing.

“Not a thing in that passage except the solid wall at the end,” Jack said. “But we’ll tear that down to-morrow and see what’s beyond.”

“Now hold on a minute,” said Mr. Floyd. “Of course I’m as anxious as you folks are to get at the bottom of this. But I don’t own this property, and before I let you go to work tearing down stone walls and so on, I’ll have to get permission from the owners.”

“Well, that’s right,” assented Jack. “Who are they?”

Mr. Floyd gave the name, and added the information that they, or rather the one man who owned this particular bungalow, could be reached by the long-distance telephone.

“Then we’ll call him up in the morning,” decided Jack. “I don’t know how far the passage extends, or whether it’s all under the property that goes with this bungalow, but we’ll get permission before we go ahead.”

This was agreed to, and when the girls learned that there was nothing to be alarmed at they went down into the passage also, as did Mr. and Mrs. Floyd.

“Well, there’s nothing more we can do,” said Cora. “Let’s get what little sleep there is left, and then prepare for work in the morning.”

“It’s almost morning now,” said Belle, pointing to the windows through which they could see a faint glow in the east, presaging the rising sun.

They were all too highly excited to sleep much, and they were up early. Boards were laid over the opening in the floor, it being feared if the sliding section was closed there might be trouble in opening it again.

The strange happenings of the night formed the only topic at breakfast, and then the boys set off for town to get in communication on the telephone with the bungalow owner.

“I can’t see why he would object,” said Jack.

“Unless he made that passage for his own use, and doesn’t want any one to meddle with it,” Paul remarked.

“What could he use it for?” asked Walter.

“Well, that may be part of the mystery. Let’s take a short cut to the village,” and he indicated a path that led toward the cave in the mountainside.

They emerged into a country road, thick with dust, and were trudging along this, talking on all the aspects of the queer discovery, when Jack suddenly stopped and stared intently at something in the dirt of the highway.

“What is it?” asked Walter. “A snake?”

“No, marks of an automobile tire,” Jack answered.

“Nothing very remarkable in that,” laughed Paul.

“There is in this one,” Jack declared excitedly. “See the big Z mark where the tire has been patched – vulcanized. Boys, that’s the same mark as was on the tire of Cora’s car! I believe her machine has been along here this morning!”

CHAPTER XXVI – THE DROPPED BUNDLE

Walter and Paul stood beside Jack, looking at the queer mark of the automobile tire in the dust.

“It is just as Cora described it,” said Walter.

“I remember, too,” added Paul. “She spoke about it at the time, saying the man at the garage had made a poor job when he vulcanized on that patch. He didn’t know his business, that’s a fact. But still there might be other cars with that same sort of tire, Jack.”

“Of course, but this is worth taking a chance on. What do you fellows say?”

“Tell us first what you want to do,” suggested Walter.

“Follow this tire mark until we either see the car, or lose trace of it.”

“What about telephoning to Mr. Haight about permission to rip down that cement wall?”

“We can do that, too,” answered Jack to Paul. “This auto seems to be headed for town, and that’s where we’re going. If we see the men who have stolen Cora’s car, we’ll get it back for her.”

“If the men let you,” added Walter, significantly.

“Oh, we’ll get help if we have to,” said Jack. “Come on.”

For some distance it was comparatively easy to follow the automobile track by means of the prominent impression left by the patch on the tire.

“But if you can tell whether it’s going to town or coming from there, it is more than I can,” asserted Paul, “and I know something about autos.”

“Of course, I’m not sure of that part of it,” Jack admitted. “But we have to go to town anyhow, and it won’t be any harm to go by this road, on the chance of seeing Cora’s car; will it?”

“No,” agreed Walter. “Perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone that way, as well as any other.”

But the hopes of the boys were doomed to disappointment, at least in respect to getting further trace of Cora’s car, provided the tire marks were made by hers. At least it was a temporary setback. For after about half a mile there came a patch of hard oily road, in which the impression of the big Z was lost. And when next a dusty stretch was encountered, there were so many marks of automobile tires that it was impossible to distinguish any particular one.

“Baffled!” exclaimed Walter, semi-dramatically, after a back-aching inspection of the road.

“Only for a time,” added Jack, cheerfully. “After we telephone we’ll take the trail of the marks, going in the other direction. That will be back toward the cave, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there were some connection between the cave, the passage under the bungalow and the men in Cora’s car.”

“Some cute little detective you’re getting to be,” laughed Paul. “Well, it may be that you’re right. Go on.”

A little later the boys reached the village, and, after executing some commissions for the girls, including the purchase for Bess of a box of chocolates, they found a long distance telephone in a drug store where there was a booth to insure privacy.

It was decided that Walter should explain matters over the wire to Mr. Haight, the owner of the bungalow, and ask permission of him to batter down the stone wall that brought the secret passage to such an abrupt end.

“And while you’re about it, Wally,” suggested Jack, “ask him what the whole mysterious business means, what makes those noises, and why spirits, or humans, should have the nerve to sneak into the girls’ rooms and upset the furniture.”

“I’d need a night letter to get all that information,” Walter retorted. “You forget this is long distance telephone rates I’ll have to pay.”

“We’ll whack up on it,” suggested Paul. “Go ahead, Walter, get all the information you can.”

Walter’s stay in the telephone booth was a lengthy one. His chums only caught disconnected murmurs of his talk, but they had glimpses of his face through the glass door and there was sufficient astonishment and satisfaction depicted to whet their curiosity to the utmost.

“Whew!” Walter exclaimed as he came out. “It was some hot in there!”

“Never mind about that!” exclaimed Jack. “Can we tear down that wall?”

“Sure!” gasped Walter. “Mr. Haight was as surprised as we were to hear about it. He’s coming up to have a look.”

“Do we have to wait until then?” asked Jack, in disappointed tones.

“Not at all. He said to go right ahead.”

“And doesn’t he know anything about the queer goings on, or who upsets the furniture?” came from Paul.

“Not in the least. It’s all news to him, though he says Mr. Floyd did write a letter telling about some strange happenings. Mr. Haight didn’t pay much attention – said he couldn’t make head or tail of the letter. He intended to look into the matter when he had a chance, but now he authorizes us to do it for him.”

“And couldn’t he give even a hint as to why the sliding door was made in the floor, and who cut the passage?” asked Jack.

“No, though he said something which may prove to be a clew. He said he bought the bungalow from a man who used to be a well-known actor. This actor gave up the stage, and it was rumored that he was slightly demented before he died. Now it occurs to me that this theatrical chap may have had this sliding door made to gratify his whim for sudden and unexplained comings and goings. Perhaps to frighten his servants. Any sort of theory might explain it. That’s only a guess, but it’s as good as any.”

“It sounds reasonable,” admitted Jack. “At least the actor may have had the secret door built, but the passage, which leads to goodness knows where, looks more like the work of smugglers or a band of outlaws.”

“Perhaps it may turn out to be that before we’ve finished,” said Walter. “Anyhow, we have permission to go ahead, and the sooner we get at it, and have that wall down, the sooner we’ll know where we’re at.”

They hastened out of town, eager to begin work on the wall, and were soon on the same highway where they had seen the automobile marks.

“And this time we’ll follow them in the other direction,” said Jack. “We might as well spend a little time on this end of the game now as later, and it may be that this will fit in with the rest of the mystery.”

“Good idea,” commented Walter.

As the boys retraced their steps they took note of the fact that the mark of the big Z in the dust became plainer.

“We were wrong before,” decided Jack. “We were going in the direction from which the auto had come. Now we’re following it.”

“To its lair, I hope,” said Paul. “I’m anxious to get back to the bungalow and have a go at that wall.”

“Same here,” commented Walter.

The boys were walking along, their eyes on the ground so as not to lose sight of the marks, when Jack, raising his head, uttered a cry that attracted the attention of his companions.

“Look!” he cried, pointing down the road. “There’s Cora’s car now, and two men are in it!”

There was no doubt about it. Cora’s car was of a peculiar purple tint with maroon trimmings. It had been made especially for her, and that it was her machine was evident at a glance, especially to Paul who was in the automobile business.

“Come on!” cried Jack. “We’ve got ’em!”

But had they? The automobile had turned out of a field, against a side hill of which was built a wooden building, like a farmer’s spring-house. The men seemed to have been using it as a garage, and Cora’s automobile, occupied by two strangers, was rapidly speeding down the road.

At Jack’s cry one of the men looked around, and then the machine was speeded up, raising a cloud of dust.

“No chance of catching them!” cried Paul. “We’ve got to get another machine somewhere.”

“We can’t!” exclaimed Jack. “We’ll have to follow until we see where they go. We mustn’t lose sight of ’em now.”

It seemed a hopeless chase, and it was, practically. Jack distanced his companions, who called to him to come back so they could examine the building in the lot.

“Maybe we’ll find a clew there,” cried Walter.

And finally even Jack gave up. Human legs, even those of an ambitious youth, are no match for an automobile. But as Jack slackened his pace he saw something which caused him to run forward again. For a bundle had been dropped from Cora’s car, and the men did not stop to pick it up.

“Maybe that will prove the best clew yet,” thought Jack, as he hastened forward to pick it up.

CHAPTER XXVII – THE GIRLS’ DISCOVERY

“Why don’t they come back?”

“What keeps them so long?”

“I declare this waiting is worse than – ”

“Doing nothing,” Cora finished for Bess. “Probably the boys can’t find the kind of chocolates you ordered, pretty little plump maid, and they’re afraid to come back without them.”

“Silly,” protested Bess.

“But they are a long time,” said Hazel, she and Belle having uttered the two rather impatient sentences at the opening of this chapter.

The girls were in the bungalow, eating, not exactly bread and honey, but ice cream and cake, which Mrs. Floyd had made. And they were talking of the absence of Jack and his chums, who had gone to town to telephone to Mr. Haight.

It was now lunch time and the girls, after waiting in vain for the boys, had eaten, and were enjoying their dessert. Or rather, they were trying to enjoy it under the rather unappetizing influence of impatient worry.

“If they don’t come back pretty soon I’m going down there myself and see if we can discover anything,” Cora declared.

“Down where?” asked Belle.

“In the passage, of course. I want to see if we can find where that queer noise came from.”

“And who upset the furniture,” added Bess.

“Well, we’re on the track of it,” said Hazel. “We are pretty certain, now, that whoever did it came up through that sliding door, and went down the same way. That accounts for our never seeing any one enter or leave the bungalow after the manifestations, and that’s why, after the boys ran over so promptly the time we saw the dancing light, they couldn’t find any one. Whoever it was just slipped down through the secret passage, pulled the section of flooring back into place, and there was no trace.”

“But where did they go after they got down in the passage?” asked Belle. “They couldn’t stay there all the while, and there’s no sign of any one there now, unless they’re invisible. They couldn’t get past the blocking cement wall.”

“There’s something beyond that wall, and we’re going to find it!” declared Cora.

“Perhaps when the boys come back they won’t have permission to tear it down,” suggested Bess.

“Then we’ll begin our investigations from the other end,” Cora said.

“What other end?” Hazel questioned.

“The cave! I think this passage connects with the cave. That would explain a hiding place for whoever has been playing these tricks on us, and making that strange noise.”

“You mean the cave you accidentally discovered yesterday?” asked Belle.

“Yes,” Cora answered. “I’m sure that has something to do with the mystery. So if Mr. Haight won’t let us open the wall, we may be able to see what is on the other side by going to the cave, and finding the passage that connects with the one which comes out into our bungalow.”

“In that event the stone wall must be movable,” suggested Hazel.

Cora jumped up so suddenly that she disturbed Bess who was leaning against her.

“That’s it! That’s it!” Cora cried. “I wonder we didn’t think of it before. That surely is it!”

“What is?” eagerly demanded Belle. “You are talking in riddles.”

“This whole affair is a riddle, girls!” exclaimed Cora. “But what Hazel said gave me an idea. That cement wall seems solid, but it can’t be. If it were no one could pass. So it must be made to look solid to deceive those not in the secret. Probably it is a balanced stone like the ones you read of in stories of the cave dwellers. Some of them closed the entrances to their caves by heavy rocks, set on pivots, turning when you pressed on a certain mechanism. There are counterweights, just as in a window, which makes the heaviest rock move easily. I’m sure that’s what is in the passage – a balanced rock doorway. And there won’t be any need of tearing the wall down at all!”

“It sounds like a detective story,” commented Bess.

“It may turn out to be one before we’re through,” Cora said.

“Oh, dear! Why don’t those boys hurry back?” cried Belle for perhaps the tenth time. “Let’s go out and look down the road to see if they are coming.”

The girls went out, too anxious and too eager to sit still, but they had no sight of Jack and his chums.

“I’m not going to wait any longer!” exclaimed Cora at length. “If I’m right, there will be no need of tearing down the wall. That is, if I can find the mechanism that turns the rocky door. And if I’m wrong, there won’t be any harm in doing it.”

“Doing what?” asked Bess.

“Going down into the passage to see what we can discover. Will you come?”

“I will!” exclaimed Hazel.

“Then we will, too, Belle,” said Bess, quickly. “They shan’t call us cowards, even if we are twins.”

“Come on,” cried Cora gaily. “We must do something or fly to pieces with nerves. Anything is better than sitting still, waiting.”

Back to the bungalow the girls hastened. The hole in the floor was still open, the sliding door having been braced back so it could not be closed by any accident.

“We don’t want to go down there and not be able to get up again,” Cora remarked.

“Shall we tell Mrs. Floyd we’re going to see what we can find?” suggested Belle.

“No,” decided Cora, after a moment’s thought. “She might not want us to until we have Mr. Haight’s permission. We’ll just do this on our own responsibility. We won’t damage the wall any.”

Down the cement steps went the four girls, into the dark passage. The boys had left behind their flashlights and these were carried by Cora and Hazel. The small, but powerful lamps gave a good light.

“Ugh! It’s rather creepy in here,” complained Belle, looking back over her shoulder.

“Don’t be silly!” said Cora, sharply. “Just think of it! We may solve the mystery all by ourselves.”

“Let us hope so,” murmured Bess.

They came to the cement wall that barred further progress along the passage.

“First to see if it’s solid rock,” Cora suggested.

“How?” asked Belle.

“By tapping. I brought along a hammer.” With this implement Cora gave several blows against the obstruction. An unmistakable hollow sound resulted.

“I believe it’s only a wooden door, covered over with cement stucco,” Cora said. “Now to find the secret catch.”

With their flash lamps the girls went over every inch of the surface of the door. At first it all looked alike, dull, gray, smooth cement. Then Cora’s light lingered a moment on a certain place.

“Girls, watch!” she said suddenly.

With her thumb she pressed on the spot where it seemed the cement was worn smoother than elsewhere. And then, to the surprise of even Cora herself, the cement door swung slowly back, revealing a dark passage beyond.

“We’ve discovered it!” cried Cora. “No need to tear the door down. Just as I suspected, it’s on hinges. Come on, girls!”