Part 16 (1/2)

”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 fis.h.i.+ng 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.”