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

“Yes,” assented Jack. “If we get there alive!” he said quickly, for the wagon gave such a lurch that Jack, who was on his feet to assume a more comfortable position, nearly slid out.

“Oh, this isn’t anything,” the driver said. “That stone must ‘a’ been put there since I come down this afternoon,” and he chuckled again. “We’ll get there alive all right.”

“But what I meant was,” went on Jack; “what sort of place is our camp? It has a queer name, you see, and they say – at least we’ve heard – that queer things go on there. What are they?”

The driver was silent a moment, and then he answered:

“Well, I don’t take much stock in them stories myself. I never see anything out of the way happen.”

“Oh, don’t spoil all the romance that way!” begged Cora. “Aren’t there any ghosts?”

“Ghosts! Huh!” the man fairly snorted. “I never see any.”

“But about things being taken?” ventured Bess.

“And the furniture being moved?” asked Belle.

“Humph!” and the driver seemed out of patience. “Things will be taken from almost any camp or bungalow if you don’t watch ’em. Thieves up here aren’t any more virtuous than in the city.”

“And didn’t you hear anything about chairs and tables being moved about?” asked Cora.

The driver fidgeted in his seat.

“G’lang there!” he called to his horses.

“Didn’t you?” persisted Jack’s sister.

“Oh, yes, there was some such story,” the driver finally admitted, slowly. “But I reckon it was just boys skylarking. That was all. Boys will go into any place they can get in you know, and I reckon when they found the bungalow of Camp Surprise without any one in it they just naturally went in and cut up.”

“If they try anything like that when we’re around, there’ll be trouble!” threatened Jack.

Cora sighed.

“All the poetry seems to be going out of it,” she said. “I hoped we would have at least one visitation from the spirits.”

“You may yet,” Walter whispered in her ear. “In my private opinion this driver person is concealing something from us.”

“Do you think so?” asked Cora, hopefully.

“Yes. He’s afraid we won’t stay if he tells all the horrible details of the story.”

“What object would it be to him to have us stay?”

“Why, he may get a percentage on our board. Or perhaps he has the only mountain-cruising buckboard in these parts, and he doesn’t want to lose trade. Have done with thy queries, Friend Jack,” he went on. “We’ll scare up a ghost or two for the young ladies ourselves, if this sordid and heartless driver person refuses.”

Jack left off with his questions about Camp Surprise, and the conversation became general. The driver, who volunteered the information that his name was Jim Dobson, said there was good fishing in the pool of water at the foot of the cataract.

“All you have to do is to throw in your baited hook,” he told the boys, “and haul out as many fish as you want for breakfast, dinner or supper.”

“That sounds good!” commented Jack. “I’m glad I brought my pole.”

“Same here,” echoed Paul, who, when he had time, was an ardent fisherman.

Up and up, and on and on they went over the rough mountain trail, for they had to ascend to a height of about fifteen hundred feet to reach the reservation owned by a company which had divided it into camps and bungalows.

“My, but it is dark!” said Cora, after a period of silence.

A lantern was slung under the buckboard, and cast gleams of light on the ground, but the darkness seemed only blacker by contrast. The horses, however, did not seem to find any difficulties in making their way. They never stumbled, though the boys and girls tried in vain to distinguish anything like a road ahead of them. The wagon was going along in a lane of trees, which in most places met in an arch overhead, thus cutting off what little light might have come from the stars.

Occasionally there would be a break in this leafy arch, and then glimpses could be had of the star-studded sky above. It was a beautifully clear evening, and warm enough to be comfortable.

Now and then Jim Dobson spoke without being asked a question, but he was not unduly talkative. He seemed to enjoy the chatter of the young folks, chuckling now and then at some of their remarks.

As for Cora and the others they talked about everything imaginable, as you may well imagine, from the latest dance steps to what they would do now that they were really starting their summer vacation.

“Is there any golf up here?” asked Bess, who had taken up the sport to “reduce.”

“Well, not enough to hurt,” the driver said. “Once in a while I hear of a case, but it ain’t nothing like as bad as hay fever, and there’s none of that here.”

“Mercy!” whispered Bess to Cora. “I guess he thinks golf is a disease!”

“Well, don’t say anything. He’s real nice.”

“I won’t. But I guess I’d better ask only plain questions after this.”

“I guess so,” Cora agreed.

“Come on there, boys, not that way!” the driver suddenly called, as he pulled his team to the right. “They want to take the road home,” he explained. “There’s a turn here.”

“How you know it I can’t tell,” said Jack. “It’s all as dark as a pocket.”

“Oh, I’m used to it and so are the horses. We’re on a private road now, leading to Camp Surprise. Be there in half an hour.”

“Are you sure this is the right road?” asked Cora. “We don’t want to be lost again,” and she mentioned their going up the creek instead of the river.

“Oh, sure, this is the right road,” the driver assured them.

There was silence for a little while, and suddenly Belle grasped Cora’s arm, and whispered:

“What’s that?”

“Where?” inquired Cora, for Belle’s voice was startling.

“Over to the left – in the woods. Don’t you see something white?”

Cora looked where Belle directed. At the moment the others were deep in a discussion about something of comparative unimportance.

“There!” whispered Belle, tensely, and she gripped Cora’s arm hard.

“Yes – yes. I see it!”

“It – it looks like a – a ghost!”

They both saw something white that seemed to float, rather than move among the trees, and Cora was about to call it to the attention of the others when it disappeared.

“Don’t say anything about it,” she quickly whispered to Belle. “Of course it wasn’t a ghost. It may have been a wisp of fog, or some one going through the woods. Then there’s that – oh, what do they call that light which comes from rotting wood?”

“You mean ignis fatuus?” asked Belle.

“Yes; that’s it. Will-o’-the-wisp some folks term it. It comes from phosphorus. It may have been that.”

They went on a little farther, and suddenly a light shone through the woods, while a dull rumble and roar, increasing in intensity, came to the ears of all.

“What’s that?” asked Jack.

“Camp Surprise,” announced the driver. “That’s the waterfall you hear. Here we be!” he called in louder tones, as an approaching lantern flashed through the dark forest.

CHAPTER XII – DISAPPOINTMENT

“Well, well! Glad to see you!” called a small, grizzled, but cheerful-faced man, as he came out to the buckboard. “Got here all right did you?”

“This is Mr. Floyd,” explained the driver.

“Yes, we’re here,” said Cora. “Sorry to be so late, but we had engine trouble and – ”

“Don’t make no manner of difference at all. We’re used to seeing people come early and late. I’ll help set your things inside. Here comes Mrs. Floyd.”

“Is that them?” asked a woman’s voice. “The Kimball party?”

“They’re here,” her husband answered while the boys helped the girls down from the wagon, and the driver and Mr. Floyd looked after the baggage.

“Glad to see you all!” went on Mrs. Floyd, who was the same genial sort of personage as her husband. “I was afraid you’d give us another disappointment, and not get here.”

“Oh, we’re here,” affirmed Cora, “and we’re sorry to give you so much trouble by being late.”

“No trouble at all!” the chaperon assured them. “Come right in. Supper is all ready and – ”

“Whoop!”

“Supper is my middle name!”

“Lead us to it!”

Thus in turn cried Jack, Walter and Paul.

Mrs. Floyd looked a bit startled as she stood revealed in the light of a lamp, the illumination streaming out of the door of a big bungalow.

“It’s only the boys,” explained Cora.

“Only!” accented Bess with a resigned expression.

“Jack!” chided Cora. “Why don’t you behave? Hazel, say something to your brother, you and I have more responsibility than the twins.”

Hazel did not know what to say, and the girls could not help laughing, in spite of themselves at the antics of Jack and his two chums.

“Welcome to Camp Surprise,” said Mrs. Floyd as the girls followed her into the house, or rather, bungalow, for it was of that style of architecture, and was but a story and a half high. The boys followed the girls, Mr. Floyd and the driver bringing up the rear with the valises.

“Do we eat with the family, or at second table?” Jack demanded.

“You shan’t eat with us if you don’t behave,” his sister threatened him. “Do quiet down, boys. Mrs. Floyd may not like – ”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Miss Kimball,” the chaperon hastened to say. “I’ve raised a family, and I know what boys are.”

“If she doesn’t she’ll find out before those three leave,” observed Belle.

The buckboard rattled off in the darkness and the young people were thus thrown on their own responsibilities as far as getting away from the place was concerned, for it was near no railroad.

“Isn’t he afraid to go home alone?” asked Belle.

“Who?” inquired Mr. Floyd.

“That driver; Mr. Dobson I think he said his name was.”

“Afraid? Him? I guess not!” exclaimed the caretaker. “What’s there to be afraid of?”

“The dark woods,” said Belle. “Cora and I thought – ”

“Belle, dear, don’t you think we’d better see to our baggage?” interrupted Cora with a sharp glance at her chum. She raised her eyebrows meaningly.

“Oh, yes, I suppose we had. Of course he, being a big man, wouldn’t have anything to be afraid of,” she concluded, nodding in the direction of Mr. Dobson.

“But there’s nothing here to be afraid of,” insisted Mr. Floyd. “Leastways, nothing you can put your hand on, though – ”

“Harry,” said Mrs. Floyd, and it seemed as though there was a caution in her voice, “I think I’ll have to ask you to bring in some more wood. I want a hot fire to finish supper.”

“All right,” he answered, and went out.

“Now if you young ladies want to freshen up you’ll have time before I get the meal on the table,” went on the chaperon. “The boys can go with my husband and they’ll be shown where they are to stay. Their bungalow is just across on the other side of the mountain stream. I don’t know just what arrangements you made about the meals for the young men, Miss Kimball – ”

“Oh, they’re to shift for themselves,” said Jack’s sister. “They are so uncertain, going and coming, that no earthly mortal could tell when to feed them. They were to have supper with us to-night, and perhaps breakfast in the morning, my mother said. But after that they’ll look after things themselves. They’d rather, anyhow.”

“Sure,” assented Jack, while the others nodded assent. “We can’t be positive when we’ll be on hand.”

The boys followed Mr. Floyd, while Cora and her chums looked about the bungalow before going to their rooms, where their trunks had been carried, having arrived safely the day before.

The main floor of the bungalow consisted of one big living room, with three smaller rooms opening off from it. These could be used as sitting rooms or bed rooms, folding bunks making beds at night. The living room, as also an alcove dining room, was simply but tastefully furnished, with rustic furniture. At one end was a big stone fireplace, though it was so warm now that no blaze was needed.

A broad stairway gave access to the upper story and here the bedrooms were. Though the rooms there were not high-ceilinged they had such large windows that plenty of air was assured. There were two bath rooms, a spring up in the hills filling a tank on the roof so that a supply of running water was to be had.

The bedrooms each contained a white iron bed and just enough furniture to make a simple life agreeable. There was a touch of daintiness, mingled with utility, and the girls were delighted with their apartments.

Soap and water, with a mere suggestion of talcum powder, wonderfully refreshed the four, and they were ready for the appetizing meal, odors of which were wafted up from the kitchen.

This was in a separate part of the bungalow, and the quarters of the caretaker and his wife were in a building connecting with the bungalow by a covered passageway.

“There come the boys back!” exclaimed Hazel, giving a hasty glance in a mirror, as she floated out of Cora’s room, having come in to borrow some hairpins.

“Yes, you can hear them before you see them,” agreed Jack’s sister. “I hope Mrs. Floyd has enough for them to eat.”

“And for us, too. I’m hungry, Cora. But she looked like a good cook.”

“Mother said she was. Well, are you ready to go down?” she called to Bess and Belle.

“Whenever you are,” answered the plump twin.

They found the boys waiting for them in the dining room, which opened off the living room at the rear, and a supper which met the most exacting requirements of Jack and his chums was soon on the table.

“How do you like your quarters?” asked Cora of her brother.

“Couldn’t be better. Not that we’ll be in them much, though. We’ll be over here or out-of-doors most of the time.”

“You can’t live here,” Cora warned him.

“Oh, you’ll be glad enough to have us when the ghost begins to walk,” prophesied Walter.

“Has anything really strange happened here, Mrs. Floyd?” asked Cora, determined to get at the bottom of the matter.

“Well, I suppose you must have heard the stories about Camp Surprise,” answered the chaperon. “It would be strange if you had not. And I must admit that there have been little happenings here that I can’t explain.”

“Such as – ,” hinted Bess.

“Oh, disturbances in the bungalow when we weren’t here. Misplaced furniture, and once some silver was taken. But that might be the work of tramps. I don’t set much store by that. However, don’t let it worry you. I don’t believe anything will happen while you’re here.”

“I hope it does,” Jack said. “We’re going to lay the ghost.”

Talk went on during the meal and toward the close Jack said:

“This sure is a fine place! You ought to see the waterfall.”

“Is it nice?” asked Cora. They could hear the roar of it as they sat at table.

“It’s great! I’m going to take some pictures of it,” said Walter. “And the way to our bungalow is over a bridge just made for lovers to stand on and look down into the water.”

“As long as they don’t fall down into the water they’ll be all right,” commented Paul. “But it sure is nice. Our shack is just across the stream.”

“We’ll be all ready to respond to the first alarm, girls,” promised Walter, as the boys left the main bungalow later in the evening to repair to their own. “If the tables begin dancing, or the chairs do a jig, call us.”

“It’s a little far to shout,” said Cora. “We’ll have to put up some sort of telephone from one bungalow to the other.”

It must be admitted that the girls were a little nervous when they went to bed that night. Tales of queer happenings, not easily explicable, are apt to get on the nerves of the best of us. But the young people were tired from their journey and lack of restful sleep the night before, so they had hopes of a good rest.

Cora was awakened by a shout under her window.

“I say! Sis! Cora! Stick out your head!” cried Jack.

Slipping on a robe Cora went to the casement.

“Go on away, Jack!” she ordered. “Let the girls sleep.”

“Sleep? Why, it’s nine o’clock,” he said. “Say, did the ghost walk?”

Cora yawned.

“Not even a creep,” she said. “I didn’t hear a sound.”

“Well, if that isn’t poor luck!” exclaimed Jack in disappointed tones. “There we go and stay awake half the night, expecting a summons to capture a spirit, and nothing happens. Camp Surprise! Where’s the surprise come in, I wonder.”

But there was plenty of time, as Jack soon learned.

CHAPTER XIII – THAT NOISE

One after another the girls drifted lazily downstairs to the dainty breakfast Mrs. Floyd had prepared for them.

“I just couldn’t bear to get up,” confessed Bess, “though I knew it was a perfectly glorious day outside.”

“It is wonderful,” declared Cora.

“How do you know? Have you been out?” asked Hazel, with a questioning look at Cora’s negligee.

“Peeped from the window – Jack called to me,” explained his sister.

“I was so tired,” said Belle. “I thought I never would get enough sleep. I wouldn’t have gotten up if a ghost had called me.”

“Jack was a bit disappointed that we didn’t call on them for help,” remarked Cora, and she detailed her brother’s morning salutation.

“I think it’s all perfect nonsense,” declared Belle. “Of course I don’t mean you, Cora,” she said, “for you only told us what you heard. But I don’t believe a thing will happen.”

“I hope nothing unpleasant does,” remarked Bess, tucking back a rebellious lock of her pretty hair, and glancing at her pink nails which she kept, as Jack taunted her, “in a state of faultless repair.”

“Did you sleep well?” asked Mrs. Floyd, coming in with more coffee.

“Fine,” answered Cora. “And please don’t think we are going to impose on you in this way every morning. We came up to help with the work, and we’re going to do it. But this morning – ”

“I know, my dear. You girls don’t exactly need any beauty sleep,” and she beamed at the four pretty faces that smiled back at her, “but you must have been tired after your trip. I don’t in the least mind.”

“You’ll find us quite energetic after this,” predicted Belle. “That is all but my sister, and you see she is – ”

“Belle Robinson! If you talk about me that way I’ll – I’ll – Oh! why do you all poke fun at me?” and Bess seemed quite distressed.

“I won’t any more,” promised Belle. “She is trying to ‘reduce’” she added to Mrs. Floyd, “so let her do all the work she wants to. We shan’t stop her.”

“What’s the program to-day?” asked Hazel, as the girls finished their coffee. “It is perfectly glorious outside. From my window I can see part of the fall. It’s beautiful. I could sit and look at it forever.”

“And not want anybody to share the view?” asked Cora, pinching her blushing cheek.

“The witness refuses to answer,” mocked Belle. “But we mustn’t dawdle here all day. Let’s go and get dressed, and by then – ”

There came a knock at the door.

“May we come in?” asked Walter.

“We – want – our – breakfast!” bawled Jack and Paul.

“Mercy no! Don’t let them in!” cried Bess, beating a precipitate retreat.

“We – are – coming!” chanted Walter.

“Stay out a minute,” ordered Cora. “Don’t be afraid, the door’s locked,” she added to her companions. “We’ve just finished,” she went on in louder tones. “Hurry with your breakfasts, and then prepare to give us a good time.”

“Your majesty’s wishes shall be obeyed,” declared Paul, and as the girls went upstairs to put on more conventional garments, the boys hurried in, bubbling over with good spirits, greeting Mrs. Floyd effusively, and preparing to devour everything in sight, which not very remarkable feat (for them) they nearly accomplished.

“Did that waterfall bother you?” asked Jack, of his chums.

“Kept me awake a little,” admitted Walter. “Sounded a bit like the surf at first, and I dreamed I was down at Crystal Bay again.”

“We sure had a swell time down there,” said Jack.

“I like the mountains better,” confessed Paul. “This place suits me.”

“It will be all right,” Jack said. “Now then, let’s see what’s doing.”

“Fishing for mine,” declared Walter. “That pool below the fall looks good to me.”

The others also voted to try their luck as disciples of Izaak Walton, and presently, with rods and lines, having dug some worms where Mr. Floyd showed them a place, they were patiently waiting on the bank of the stream that flowed away from the waterfall.

Camp Surprise was situated amid one of the wildest and most desolate parts of the mountains west of Chelton. It was remarkable, in a way, that such a lonesome place could be found so close to such a number of large and thriving towns and villages. But it was this wildness and isolation that gave it the peculiar charm, and which had led the land company to establish a number of camps and bungalows in the vicinity.

So rugged and diversified was the scenery, that, with the exception of the two bungalows occupied respectively by the boys and girls, no other two buildings were in sight of each other. Though not far removed from one another the dwelling places were off by themselves, giving a seclusion so often demanded by those who go to summer resorts.

At present, as the season had hardly opened, there were no other visitors at Camp Surprise, though many were expected later in July and August. Camp Surprise was not the real name of the place, which was called by the development company, Mountain View. But Camp Surprise had been applied because of the queer happenings, as has been intimated, though so far our friends had seen no occasion for such appellation.

The waterfall and the stream which flowed from it divided practically in half the area of land owned by the Mountain View Company. Having its origin some miles back in the mountains, the stream was augmented by brooks, creeks and other streams until, on reaching Camp Surprise, it had become almost a river.

Flowing along peacefully, through green meadows, or down the slope of some rocky hill, the river came suddenly to a great cleft in the hills, and down this it plunged in a most beautiful fall, from a height of about fifty feet, and perhaps a hundred feet in breadth.

At the foot of the fall was a deep pool, worn in the limestone rocks by the erosion of the falling water, and there the white foam boiled and bubbled in a miniature whirlpool and rapids until the stream slipped farther on down the side of the mountain, in a series of little cascades, in which were, so it was said, many fishes.

The boys had selected as their spot a quiet one, where a sort of eddy, or back-water, made a quiet pool that looked, as Jack said, “like a regular bachelor apartment for fish.”

“Keep still! Don’t move!” called Belle, as she and her chums, now with all their “war paint on,” as Walter hinted, approached the three young men.

“What is it – the ghost or the furniture mover?” asked Walter.

“I just want to get a picture,” Belle explained, snapping her camera. “You look so respectable to what you do ordinarily.”

“Just for that you shan’t hold my hand!” declared Paul.

“Don’t come any nearer,” warned Walter. “I think I have a bite. Yes! He’s on!” he cried as the tip of his pole bent, and a moment later he hauled out a flashing beauty.

“Oh, I want to catch one!” cried Cora, who was as ardent a lover of outdoor sports as any of her boy friends.

“You may take my pole,” offered Paul, as Walter unhooked his fish.

“Oh, no, I don’t want to deprive you,” Cora objected.

“I’ll sit near and watch you – have all the fun and let you do the work,” he retorted. And the boys and girls were soon together on the bank.

Luck was fairly good, and presently enough fish had been caught for a “good mess,” as Mr. Floyd observed when he came past.

“We’ll cook them for you,” offered Belle. “Won’t we, girls?”

“Do you know how?” asked Jack.

“Listen to him!” mocked Bess.

As Mr. Floyd and his wife had to go to one of the more distant bungalows, to see about some repairs, and as they would be gone most of the day, Cora and her chums agreed to be the housekeepers and to let the boys share the lunch with them.

“Which isn’t such a concession after all,” Jack said, “seeing as how we caught the fish.”

“I caught one myself,” Cora declared.

“With Paul’s pole, so that doesn’t count,” retorted her brother quickly.

They had a jolly time at lunch and spent the afternoon roaming about the mountainside. The girls took pictures of the fall, which was really a beauty-spot, and some of the prints were afterward enlarged, and they made most charming pictures.