The Outdoor Girls in a Motor Car; Or, The Haunted Mansion of Shadow Valley

CHAPTER XI

A TRACE OF THE GIRL

"When are you coming back for us?"

"Why don't you take us with you? You may need us to help put on a tire."

"They'll send for us in a day or so!"

Thus called Will, Frank and Allen, who had assembled at Mollie's house to watch their girl friends start on the auto tour.

"If we need you we'll send for you," promised Mollie, as she let slip the clutch pedal. "But I don't believe we shall."

"What—need us—or send for us?" asked Allen, with a laugh. "That is an ambiguous statement."

"I'm not on the witness stand!" retorted Mollie to the young law student.

"Now do be careful; won't you, girls?" pleaded Cousin Jane, a trifle nervously, as the car gathered speed.

"Oh, we're always careful," said Mollie. "Don't fuss, Cousin Jane, or you won't have a good time." Mollie was too kind to add that neither would her friends have much pleasure, and perhaps Mrs. Mackson realized this, for, though she would clutch nervously at the side of the seat whenever the car jolted or lurched, she said nothing more in the way of caution.

"Brin us some tandy!" called Dodo after the retreating auto.

"Brin 'ots of it!" added Paul.

"Your true disciples, Grace," remarked Amy.

"You can't make me angry," said Grace in cool tones, as she munched a chocolate.

"What's this?" asked Amy, as she felt some long, round, hard object on the floor of the tonneau, amid many others of various sizes and shapes. "It feels like a—bomb."

"It's my bottle," said Grace, with an assumption of dignity. "Leave it alone, please."

"Your bottle?" asked Betty, curiously, turning around.

"Yes. I filled it with cold chocolate—it's a vacuum bottle, you know—and will keep its contents cold a long time. I thought we might be thirsty."

"As if we wouldn't pass a drug store, or some place where we could get a drink," objected Mollie.

"Oh, well, you'll want some sooner or later," predicted Grace. "Those chicken sandwiches are very salty, and the olives——"

"They always make me want a drink," said Amy. "I'm real glad you brought it, Grace. You and I love each other; don't we?"

"Cupboard love!" scoffed Mollie. "Never mind, Grace, we'll forgive you."

The boys waved their final farewells, the twins joining in, and some of the relatives of the girls, who had gathered to see them off, shook handkerchiefs or hands.

"Under way at last!" exclaimed Betty, as the car gathered speed. "What did you say our stopping place would be for to-night, Mollie?"

"Freedenburg. There's a nice home-like hotel there, and we can get adjoining rooms. I wrote on and engaged them last week."

"That will be nice. Oh, isn't it glorious!"

They were on the main street of Deepdale now, having to pass through the town to get to the road that led to Freedenburg, which was about seventy-five miles away. They planned to make the town by night.

The main street had been sprinkled to lay the dust, and there were little puddles of water here and there. It was impossible to avoid all of them, and Mollie went into a big one at a crossing. The big-tired wheel threw some muddy spray and it went far enough to land on the highly-polished shoes of a youth who had paused to let the car pass.

"I beg your pardon!" called out Mollie, for she was going very slowly.

"Well, of all the careless——" began the youth in angry tones.

"Oh, it's Percy Falconer!" gasped Grace. "See Betty."

"I don't want to see!" she answered sharply.

Percy heard his name, and his manner changed as he recognized the girls.

"I beg your pardon!" he cried, as though the accident had been his fault. "It doesn't matter in the least. I was going to get another shine, anyhow. I wish——"

But his further words were lost as the car moved on.

"That was nice of him," said Mollie. "I did spoil his polish, but when he saw Betty he was as nice as pie, though he looked as if he'd like to eat me up a moment before. Betty, you are to be congratulated."

"Don't speak to me of him. I—I——"

"Count ten, slowly," spoke Amy in such mirth-provoking tones that they all laughed. Percy gazed blankly after the retreating car, and then made his way to a boot-blacking stand.

The girls were soon outside the town, bowling along a pleasant country road. The day was perfect, and, as Grace said, they could not have had a better one for their start had it been "made to order." They had plenty of lunch with them, and planned to stop in some convenient spot at noon and eat.

"Oh, I forgot those cheese-crackers!" suddenly cried Betty, when they had gone several miles. "I had them on the hall table, and I'm sure I forgot to put them in."

"Look and see," suggested Mollie.

"No, they're not here," went on Betty, regretfully, after a search. "We're all so fond of them."

"Mr. Lagg keeps them," suggested Grace. "It wouldn't be much out of our way to go to his store."

"We will!" decided Mollie, and she made a turn at the next crossing. Mr. Lagg was glad to see them, as he always was. He bowed and smiled as he came out to the car.

"At least I hope so," went on the poetical grocer, with a laugh. "Say you'll undertake that job," he pleaded. "I've tried to get those doctors to take the place, ghost and all, but they won't, and I'll have it on my hands if I don't look out."

"We can't promise," spoke Mollie. "Maybe the boys—Grace's brother and his chums—will undertake it, Mr. Lagg. If they don't, when we come back from our tour, we'll consider it once more."

"Well, I'll hold you to that!" he declared. "This is getting serious with me."

"Have the doctors made any other move?" asked Betty.

"No, not yet. They asked me if I could guarantee that there would be no queer disturbances, and of course I couldn't so they said they'd have to wait. But they're dickering for another place, and may take it. I wish there was no such things as ghosts."

"There aren't!" declared Mollie, decidedly.

"Then how do you account for what happened in the old mansion?" asked Mr. Lagg.

"Imagination," said Betty.

The storekeeper shook his head.

"A fellow like Pete Skillinger, or some of the fishermen around here, might imagine," he admitted, "but not those scientific doctors. They certainly saw, and heard, something they couldn't explain. They sure did!"

"Did you make any inquiries to be sure they were not doing this themselves?" asked Mollie. "I've heard of such cases."

"No, these doctors are all well-known men, and have good reputations," said Mr. Lagg, with another puzzled shake of his head. "They wouldn't do such a thing. I don't doubt but what this haunting business can be explained; but how? That's the question. How? I can't solve it—I haven't time—daren't leave my store. Now you girls are smart and brave. The ghost of Elm Island didn't bother you, so why should this one?"

"Oh, well, we'll think about it," promised Mollie. "Now what we most need are cheese crackers—and not ghostly ones, either, Mr. Lagg."

"You shall have the best in stock."

Then, his mind being turned in another channel he recited this:

"And you generally hit what you aim at," laughed Grace. "I think I'll have a few more chocolates," she added, as she inspected her box. "These won't last all day, and I know yours are good, Mr. Lagg."

"I'll bring them out," he said, as he hurried into the store.

The girls bought a few other things they found they had overlooked in starting off, and once more they got under way.

"Don't forget the ghost!" pleaded Mr. Lagg, as he waved farewell. "Get rid of it for me."

"Poor old man—he really means it," said Amy. "I wonder what can be in that house?"

"Bats and rats, most likely," said "Cousin Jane," as they all called her. "Bats and rats!"

"Worse than spooks—when they get in your hair," spoke Mollie. "Give me a nice clean ghost, that waltzes around in a two-step. Oh, girls, I hope we can go to a dance of two on our tour."

"Some are planned for us," said Mollie.

They kept on, enjoying the ride to the utmost. Just before noon they got a puncture, and voted not to attend to it until after lunch, which they ate near a road-side spring, under a great oak tree. And then the Fates were kind to them. For, as they were laboriously jacking up the car to take off the tire, a lone chauffeur, in a big car, came along and kindly offered to do the work for them.

The girls gladly accepted, and watched him carefully, for though they had once or twice before changed a shoe, they were not skillful at it. Mollie offered the man some change, but he declined with a laugh and reddened under his tan.

"Then do have some lunch!" said Betty, understanding his embarrassment.

"And chocolates," added Grace, generously.

"I will," he said. "It's hard work driving a big car like mine—all alone."

"Oh, is it your car?" asked Mollie. "I thought——" and as the young man nodded she understood why he had refused the money. He was the owner.

"Oh, girls!" exclaimed Mollie, when he had gone, "and to think that I wanted to pay him—maybe he's a millionaire."

"You meant it all right," said Betty. "And really he looked like a professional chauffeur. He might have taken the money, and let us think so. I read a story once where a man did that, and fell in love with a girl, and——"

"Spare us the details," begged Grace.

Again the girls were off, and without further accident, save that when Betty was driving she narrowly missed running over a persistent barking dog. They reached Freedenburg, and went to the hotel, leaving the auto at a public garage near by.

"Oh, for a good bath, and a hot cup of tea!" exclaimed Mollie, for the latter part of the ride had been rather hot and dusty. "Then we'll feel like new girls."

The services of a maid were at their disposal in their rooms, and they were soon making themselves fresh for the dinner that was shortly to be served. As Mollie let down her long hair the maid uttered an exclamation:

"Excuse me, Miss, for remarking it," she said, "but you have lovely hair."

"We all think so," added Betty.

"It isn't so very nice," spoke Mollie. "I am hoping it will get thicker."

"It's lovely!" the maid insisted. "I haven't seen any as nice—not since a strange girl stopped here one night some time ago, and I helped her do hers up. Hers was nearly to the floor when she stood up. And it was just the color of yours. She had a scar on her forehead, I remember—a recent one, and I had to be careful of it as I combed her hair."

"A cut?" asked Betty, looking at her friends curiously.

"Yes, Miss. She said she had fallen out of a tree."

"A tree!" The four girls uttered this together.

"Why, yes," and the maid seemed surprised. "I suppose she was playing—she said she was very fond of sports—and she was just the age to enjoy them."

"Yes, yes!" exclaimed Betty eagerly. "Did she have—I mean what was her name—or could you describe her to us? We have a reason for asking."

"Why, I don't recall that she gave me her name," said the maid slowly, "but I can tell you how she looked."

Then, to the surprise of Betty and her chums, the hotel maid gave a good description of the girl they had seen fall out of the tree some time before—the girl who had so strangely disappeared when they went after aid for her.

"It's the same one!" cried Betty, and then she told the maid of the coincidence.

CHAPTER XII

A DISABLED CAR

"Where did she go?"

"Didn't she leave her name—or anything?"

"Did she seem all right?"

"Did she tell why she was in the tree?"

With these questions the girls fairly bombarded the mystified maid when they had established, beyond all reasonable doubt, that the girl they had aided and the one at the hotel were one and the same.

"I don't know where she went," the maid finally managed to say, "and I don't know her name. It may be on the register, though."

"We'll look!" declared Betty. "But did you learn anything about her?"

"Nothing much. She seemed all right, as far as her health was concerned, but she did not seem happy. The cut on her head was nothing. I asked her if the fall from the tree had hurt her, and she said not much."

"Did she say why she climbed up it?" asked Amy.

"No, Miss, she did not."

"And she didn't tell you anything about herself?" It was Grace who asked this.

"No, only in a general way. I thought, from what she said, Miss, that she had seen trouble, and was trying to get away from it. She was well dressed, and had some money. She let fall that she was traveling about, trying to find some friends she had lost track of. There was some mystery about her, of that I'm certain."

"I am too," declared Mollie. "Poor girl!"

"I'm going to look at the register," said Betty. "That may give us a clue, as the boys say."

The girls dressed for dinner, and then visited the hotel office. The maid fortunately had a good memory, and could tell the date of the girl's stay. The register of that day contained several names, but the clerk recalled the incident of the girl applying for a room. This hotel made a speciality of catering to women patrons.

"That's her name," said the young man, pointing to one in the book. "Carrie Norton."

"And it doesn't say where she is from," remarked Amy.

"I asked her about that," spoke the clerk, "and she said it did not matter. So I did not insist."

"Carrie Norton," mused Mollie, as the girls went into the dining room. "Well, I hope she has found her friends. Poor girl!"

They talked and speculated about her, but that was all they could do. They could arrive at no conclusion. It was plain that she had not been as badly hurt as they had feared, and, after leaving the farm house, must have gone to some other place of shelter. She must have also changed her garments, for the dress the maid described was not the one she wore at the time of the accident.

She had left the hotel, after stopping there one night, the maid said, and had left no directions for any mail to be forwarded, nor had she given any clue to where she was going.

"She seems to have come into our lives in a most mysterious way," said Mollie, "and then to have vanished. We get a glimpse of her, as it were, and again she vanishes. I wonder if we will ever solve the mystery?"

"Perhaps she is—the ghost of the haunted mansion of Shadow Valley," suggested Betty.

"What an idea!" cried Grace. "Don't be so—shivery!"

"Well, she is as mysterious as ghosts are supposed to be," Betty went on. "I wonder when we will meet her again?"

"When we do, we must take care that she does not escape without telling us more about herself," said Amy. "Not that we can insist, but we ought to know for our own satisfaction."

"I think so, too," added Mollie. "She is getting on my nerves."

"Besides, we might be able to help her," spoke Grace. "It is dreadful to think of a nice girl like that going the country, friendless and alone. She may need just the aid we could give her."

All the conclusion the girls could come to was that the girl, after leaving the farm house, had somehow managed to find those who were able to look after her. Then had come an interim, which was a blank as far as the girls were concerned. Then came the hotel episode, and—another blank.

"It's like one of those missing-piece puzzles," complained Grace. "We'll never get it straightened out."

"We may," said Betty, more hopefully.

That evening, with Cousin Jane to accompany them, they went to a pretty little play, enjoying it very much. Morning saw them on the road again, and they stopped the next night at the house of a distant relative of Betty's mother.

Then, for a time, the good luck the girls had had left them. There came a spell of rain that lasted two days, and they remained in the house of Mrs. Nelson's relative—rather miserable days they were, too, for there was little to occupy them. But all things come to an end finally, and the bad weather was no exception.

The sun came out, the roads dried up, and one pleasant morning saw the outdoor girls again in the car, speeding onward. Their objective point was Wendell City, and to reach this they had to make a detour that would take them through a picturesque part of the country.

In fact it was so picturesque, and there were so many fine views, that Mollie stopped the car oftener than she meant to, and in consequence they were far behind their schedule when it began to grow dusk.

"Something is the matter with the car," said Mollie, after a climb of a steep hill, which had to be taken on second gear.

"Oh, don't say that!" begged Grace. "We've got a good way to go, yet."

"Oh, it isn't anything serious, I think," said Mollie. "But one of the cylinders seems to be 'missing.' There, hear it!" she exclaimed. The girls were expert enough to detect the "miss," now. It was unmistakable.

The auto faltered on top of the hill. Then it went down and on the level seemed to be all right again. The girls were more hopeful, until the next hill was reached. There the car nearly stalled. But the summit was reached, and there appeared in view a long, easy, downward slope.

And then, with a sigh and a groan of protest—which manifestations had been accumulating of late, the car suddenly ceased working, and came to a stop. The power was gone.

"Oh dear!" cried Mollie, for it was getting late, and the road was a lonely one. "What shall we do?"

"Get out and fix it, of course," answered practical Betty.

"Look—look where we are," whispered Grace, clutching the arm of Mollie.

"Where? Don't be so nervous. Where are we?"

"Near the rear entrance to Shadow Valley," spoke Grace, in an awe-struck voice.

CHAPTER XIII

THE STORM

Silence followed an exclamation that came from the lips of each of the girls—an involuntary cry from each one, brought out by the words of Grace.

"Shadow Valley!" murmured Mollie.

"And the—the——" it was Betty who began this, it being her evident intention to make a remark about the haunted house. Then her usual good sense came to her rescue, and she refrained. There was pressure enough now on the nerves of her chums, she reasoned.

"Well, what of it?" she asked in a voice meant to be cheerful, and Betty was an adept at simulation under necessity.

"Don't—don't you understand?" faltered Grace, in a low voice—a tone calculated to add to the tenseness of the situation, rather than to relieve it.

"I understand that our car has balked for some reason or other," said Betty in brisk, business-like tones, "and we have to fix it. If we don't we are likely to be caught in a thunder storm. So get out, girls, and let's hunt for trouble. Grace, if you have any chocolates left you might offer them as a prize for the one who first discovers the difficulty—and why the motor won't mote. Cousin Jane will be the—stake-holder is the proper term, I believe."

"The idea!" cried Mollie. "That's only When there is betting. We don't do anything like that."

"I meant to say prize-holder then!" admitted Betty, with a laugh.

"Well, there's no use discussing it—I haven't a chocolate left," sighed Grace. "But oh, do you realize our position?"

"I do indeed, and that's why I say we must make this car go," went on Betty. "Come," and she got out, followed by Mollie. "It seems hard lines to get a thunder storm after all the rain we've had, but it is threatening. Let's get busy."

"I think that suggestion very practical," said Mrs. Mackson. "Girls, you had better do as Betty says and try to find out what is the matter with the car. I don't know anything about such things or I'd help. If a hairpin will be of any use I have an extra paper of them with me."

"Hairpins! Oh, dear!" laughed Amy half hysterically. "A hairpin to mend a broken auto!"

"I have known one to be of service on a motor boat," spoke Betty. "I bent it in the shape of a spring, and used it on a valve in the Gem."

"I'm afraid there's more than that the matter here," spoke Mollie, as she raised the hood of her car. "That one cylinder must have affected the others, in some way."

"Gracious!" exclaimed Amy, "I didn't know auto diseases were catching in that way. We must be careful, girls."

"It's getting darker," observed Betty. "We must be quick Mollie, if we're to get to shelter before the storm breaks."

It was growing dark and gloomy, and though it was not yet seven o'clock the lowering clouds had added to the dusk of approaching night. Occasionally, in the distance, could be heard the low rumbling of thunder.

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Grace. "We are in for a drenching, that's sure."

"Not necessarily!" said Mollie, a bit sharply. "I'd remind you that my car has a top, and we can put it up."

"That's all right," spoke Betty, soothingly, for she noted that Mollie's temper might get the best of her under the stress of the trouble. "Let's look at the engine first. Shall I light the lamps, Mollie?"

"Yes, do. I didn't think of them. Light the oil ones as well as switch on the electrics. We may need both, and I am not sure of that storage battery. The last place I had it looked at the man said it would need re-charging soon."

While Betty, with the aid of Grace, set the oil and electric head lamps aglow, and saw that the tail light was also in service, Mollie was peering at the motor.

"Just push the self-starter button," she directed Betty after a moment, during which she had primed the cylinders with gasoline, and changed the adjustment of the carburetor slightly. She had really made quite a study of the troubles that might beset a motor, and the garage man had added some further instructions.

Mollie watched while Betty pushed the lever, and set the electric starter in motion, but when the gasoline and spark levers were set at the proper places, the motor did not respond, the fly wheel merely revolving under the impulse of the starter.

"What is it?" asked Grace. "Can you tell what is the matter?"

"No, I can't!" and Mollie spoke shortly. "I'll tell you as soon as I've found out," she said. "Please don't make me nervous, Grace—dear." Mollie added the last as a polite concession.

"Nervous! If anyone is more nervous than I am, I'd like to know it," murmured Grace. "Oh, how I wish I had a chocolate!" and she hurriedly sought among her possessions, but in vain.

"I wonder how we happened to get here—at the entrance to Shadow Valley?" queried Amy. "I thought we were far away from it."

"We are far enough from the other end," replied Grace. "I guess Mollie didn't know this road took us here, or she wouldn't have come. We are nearer—nearer the—oh, you know what I mean, Amy."

"Yes, you mean—that house!"

"That's it. I—I hate to mention it. But we are nearer to it than ever since—since Mr. Lagg told us about the—the trouble there. I wish we were—back home. Gracious—what's that?" and she jumped nervously, clutching Amy's arm.

"Only thunder—a sharper clap than usual—don't be a goose!" said Betty, sharply. "Shall I try it again, Mollie?" for Mollie was still inspecting the motor by the light of one of the oil lamps held over it by Cousin Jane, while Betty was at the steering wheel, manipulating the levers.

"Yes, try it once more. I can't seem to see what is the matter. The ignition seems to be all right, but when you throw in the gas, and set the spark, the motor doesn't take it up. Try again."

Again Betty tried, but the fly wheel would only revolve, and that was all.

"It's no use!" sighed Mollie. "I'll have to have a garage man look at it. Probably it's some simple little thing. That's generally the way—it's the little things of life that make so much trouble. You can fight a big thing better."

"But where will you find a garage man around here—and at this time of night?" asked Amy, for it was really night now, with the clouds adding to the darkness.

"I don't know, I'm sure," and Mollie's voice did not have its usual pleasant note. "Maybe one will come along in an airship," she added a bit sarcastically.

"Mollie," spoke Betty soothingly.

"I don't care—I don't like foolish questions asked of me when I'm worried."

"I didn't mean to bother you," said Amy gently.

"Oh, I know it!" and Mollie's voice trembled. "It was horribly mean of me to answer you as I did. I beg your pardon, but I am so bothered! Isn't it mean to have things go wrong this way, and at such an inconvenient time and place?"

"Never mind," spoke Betty, laughing. "To-morrow we will only think this was fun. And now I suggest that we go down the road a bit, and look for a garage. It's true that this isn't a main highway, but nowadays even the country blacksmiths are calling themselves auto repairers. We may come upon one unexpectedly, and if his shop is closed he may live near enough so that we can get him out here. Let's try, anyhow."

"Betty, dear, you're such a comfort!" exclaimed Mollie, putting her arms around her chum. "Come, we'll go on a hunting expedition."

"All of us?" asked Grace.

"No, there's no need for all of us to go," said Betty. "Mollie and I will take a lantern—one of the oil ones—and walk down the road. The rest of you can stay here."

"And I think you'd better put the top up while we are gone," suggested Mollie. "It may rain suddenly, and with the top and the side curtains and wind-shield in front, we can at least keep dry until morning."

"What! Stay here all night?" cried Amy.

"Why not? Where else can we go?"

"I'll not stay," declared Grace. "I'll walk anywhere—even in the rain—to get away from—this place," and she could not repress a shudder as she looked back over her shoulder at the entrance to gloomy Shadow Valley.

Betty again took her position at the wheel—why, she hardly knew. Mollie had closed the bonnet over the motor, evidently giving up trying to discover the trouble. Idly Betty pushed on the button and lever of the self-starter, and then she exclaimed:

"I have it!"

"What! Have you found the trouble?" asked Mollie, excitedly.

"No, but I have a plan. We can run the car down to the foot of the slope. It's more sheltered there—bigger trees, you know—and we'll be that much nearer where we want to go."

"But how can you make the car go—when it won't?" asked Mollie.

"The self-starter! It's guaranteed to run the car under electric power for nearly a mile, without the motor being operated. All we'll have to do will be to set the starter going—that turns the fly wheel, you know. Then we can put in low gear, slip in the clutch, just as if the motor was in operation, and get the car to the top of the hill. We're really at the top now, for it's level here. But we can get it to the edge of the downward slope, and let it coast. Then, on the next level, we can do the same thing again. In that way I am almost sure we can make over a mile."

"Good!" cried Mollie. "You should have a car instead of me, Bet, my dear!"

"Oh, I don't take any credit for that think! I just recalled an advertisement I had read about self-starters. Nearly all of them say the starters alone will propel the car for some distance. Let's try it, anyhow."

They all felt better on hearing this, and Amy even laughed. She started to get into the car, when Betty said:

"Perhaps it will be just as well to wait about getting in until the car is at the beginning of the slope. The less weight in the auto the easier it will move. Mollie, do you want to try the scheme?"

"No, you do it—you thought of it. We'll walk along with you if you get it to go."

Betty soon demonstrated that she could get the auto to move, and slowly but surely it rolled along until it had started down a long, gentle slope. Then Betty shut off the electric motor, which was run by a storage battery, and applied the brakes.

"Get in now," she directed, and a little later the party was coasting down hill, the foot brake serving to prevent too great speed.

"So far—so good!" cried Betty, when they had reached the level. "Now to see how far the starter will carry us."

As she spoke a more vivid flash of lightning, and a rumbling crash of thunder, made all the girls, and even Cousin Jane, jump.

"We're going to get it!" predicted Grace, with a shiver.

Betty again repeated her operation with the starter. The car went forward slowly, and the girls were very hopeful, and then suddenly the auto came to a stop with a sort of whining groan, and the electric lights went out.

"Oh, dear! What's happened now?" asked Amy.

"The storage battery has given out," said Mollie. "I was afraid it would. Now, girls, we'll either have to stay here in the auto, or else walk—and be caught in the rain."

"Well, let's get the top up, at all events," suggested Betty. "Then we'll be sure of some shelter."

It began to rain, gently at first, even while they were struggling with the rather refractory top, in the dim light of the two oil lamps. But they managed to get it in place. Then, as they were fastening the side curtains, the storm burst in all its fury, with a suddenness that was almost terrifying.

Grace and Amy, who were trying to fasten a curtain on the side of the auto whence the wind came, screamed and let go of the flap. In an instant, so powerful was the wind, it had ripped off the curtain, sending it scurrying away in the blackness of the night, that was torn and pierced by frequent flashes of lightning.

"Now we have done it!" cried Grace. "Oh, Mollie, I'm so sorry!"

"Never mind! Don't talk about that now. Get on your raincoats, girls, or you'll be drenched!" and, fastening the last strap of her curtain, Mollie donned her garment—the girls and Mrs. Mackson carrying them in a seat locker that Mollie had utilized for this purpose.

But the rain came in at the place where there was no side curtain, sweeping over them all. The wind blew fiercely, and the auto swayed in the blast. Miserable indeed was the plight of the Outdoor Girls. They were possibly having just a little too much of out doors.

CHAPTER XIV

AT THE HAUNTED HOUSE

"Girls, I can't stand this any longer!" complained Mollie, as the storm raged about and above them.

"What are you going to do?" asked Betty.

"For one thing, let's try to take one of the curtains from the side where the wind doesn't blow so hard, and fasten it on the place where that one blew away. That will help some."

They tried, but it was hard work. The curtains fastened with straps above and below, being a new kind, and not very satisfactory, as Mollie declared then and there. Nor were the girls successful, for the wind whipped and blew the curtain about so that it was impossible to put it up. Thus there were two openings now—one on either side of the auto—and rain came in both.

"This is dreadful!" cried Mollie. "Girls, I'm sure you'll never forgive me for getting you into this scrape."

"It wasn't your fault," said Betty. "You couldn't tell that the motor was going to give out. Besides, what if we are wet? It isn't very cold, and we'll get dry some time. Oh, but that was a heavy one!" she cried, pressing her hands over her ears as a tremendous peal of thunder followed closely after a vivid flash.

"We must do something!" cried Mollie. "This is unbearable."

"But what are you going to do?" asked Grace. "It looks to me as though we'd just have to bear it."

"We can get out and walk until we find some kind of shelter," said Mollie. "There must be some sort of house around here. This place isn't a desert. And even walking in the rain and mud is better than staying here, all cramped up, and drenched. Who will come?"

"I guess we all will, if one of us goes," spoke Betty. "But, oh, Mollie, are you sure that's the best thing to do?"

"Why not? What else can we do?"

"Well, of course if this storm would let up it would be easier going out then. We might wait a while."

"It doesn't show any signs of letting up," retorted Mollie. "It acts to me like an all-night rain, and the longer we wait the worse off we'll be, and the less chance we'll have of finding any one up if we do locate a house."

"Oh, for a nice dry house, and a good hot cup of chocolate!" sighed Grace.

"Heartless creature—to even dream of such things!" cried Amy. "Oh dear! What do you think? A stream of water is going down my back."

"And both my shoulders are soaking wet," added Mrs. Mackson. "But it might be worse, girls!"

"I don't very well see how," remarked Mollie. "Well, shall we try it?"

The others hesitated a moment. As they waited and listened to the whining of the wind, the swish of the rain and the angry muttering of the thunder, and saw the vivid lightning, it was no wonder they did not want to decide hurriedly to go out in that out burst of the elements. But it was also trying on the nerves to stay in the stalled auto, exposed as it was by the lack of side curtains.

"Oh, let's try it!" suggested Betty in sheer desperation. "We can't any more than get drenched, and our rain coats will be some protection. Come on, girls."

They had the two oil lanterns in the car with them, and carrying them they now emerged from their shelter.

"Gracious! This is awful!" gasped Mollie, as the blast and rain struck her full in the face.

"Keep on!" called Betty, grimly.

"Which way?" asked Amy. "How dark it is!"

"Not when it lightens—that's one good thing about it," said Cousin Jane, cheerfully.

"It's nice you can see some good points," laughed Mollie—yes, actually laughed, and the girls marveled at it. But Mollie had that rare quality of "keeping her nerve," if I may be pardoned that expression, so often and effectively used by my friends, the boys.

"We had better go forward," suggested Betty. "We didn't pass any houses for quite a while as we were coming up here, and there may be one not far off just ahead. Or we may find a cross-road. Advance, I say!"

"And I agree," spoke Mollie. "Come on."

She and Betty led the way, carrying the lamps, which gave but an uncertain light, and that only in one direction—forward. However, the road, though now quite muddy, was a level one, and in fairly good condition.

Forward they tramped through the rain. It is on such occasions as these—when something goes wrong, upsetting all prearranged plans, and making life seem miserable—that true courage of a sort, comradeship, good-fellowship and real grit are best shown. And, to the credit of the outdoor girls be it said that, now they had taken the "plunge" none of them showed the white feather. They were brave under any circumstances and this very bravery strengthened their tired nerves.

On they splashed through muddy puddles, protecting themselves from the rain as best they could by their coats. But occasionally the wind would whip them open, letting in the moisture that already had soaked the garments well.

"There doesn't seem to be any shelter," remarked Amy, hopelessly, when they had gone perhaps half a mile.

"Oh, don't give up yet," suggested Mollie.

They kept on, and came to a cross-road.

"Now which way?" asked Betty.

"Straight ahead," proposed Mollie.

"To the left," offered Grace.

"The right," was Amy's choice.

"I think—I'm not sure, but I think I see a light off to the left," said Cousin Jane.

"A light!" cried Betty. "Then we ought to head for that."

"But I am not certain," went on Mrs. Mackson. "Look, girls, is that a light?"

They grouped around her, and gazed in the direction she pointed.

"Hold the lamps the other way, and we can see better," suggested Grace.

"Hold the lens against your skirts, Mollie," said Betty. "That will make dark-lanterns for us."

She and Mollie did this, and in the intense blackness, that, for the moment was not illuminated by a lightning flash, they peered about them.

"It is a light!" exclaimed Grace. "Thank goodness!"

"I think so, too," added Mollie, as she glimpsed a point of illumination. "Come on, girls! They won't refuse to help us."

Much encouraged they kept on. The rain increased, but they did not so much care now. The thunder was just as hard, and the flashes of heaven's fire was vivid, while the wind seemed more powerful. But they kept on. The light they had seen seemed to grow brighter. Then it suddenly disappeared.

"Oh dear!" cried Grace, despairingly. "It is gone!"

"Never mind," said Mollie. "They may have taken it to another room, or put it out to go to bed. But we can find the place, as long as we are on the right road."

On they stumbled, and then Betty, who was a little in the advance gave a cry—a cry of joy.

"Here is the house!" she cried. "It is all dark, but we will knock."

By the lightning flashes they saw, set some distance back from the road, a large house. By the same flashes they saw leading up to it a path, much overgrown with weeds. And back of the house were big trees. The rest was not very distinct, but at least shelter was offered them.

"Come on!" urged Betty, resolutely.

"Suppose there are—dogs?" faltered Amy.

"If there are they would have barked before now. But I don't believe even a self-respecting dog would bother us on a night like this," said Mollie. "Come on."

They advanced up the old path, that was overgrown with weeds.

"I don't believe any one lives there," ventured Grace, in a low voice.

"If they do they don't keep the place in very good condition," spoke Cousin Jane. "It's a shame to let it get so run down."

Mollie was knocking on the door. The sound of her knuckles seemed to echo through an empty house. The hearts of the girls were despairing again. Once more Mollie knocked. No answer.

"No one at home," she murmured. "And yet the light!"

She gave a little cry.

"What is it?" asked Betty.

"The door—it opened of itself!"

"Nonsense! Perhaps it was not shut, and you pushed it!"

Betty flashed her light forward. It shone on the old door, that was slowly swinging open, seemingly of its own accord. Then a bare and deserted hall was observed.

At that moment there came a vivid lightning flash, and before the thunder could echo Grace cried:

"We're at the haunted house of Shadow Valley!"

CHAPTER XV

QUEER MANIFESTATIONS

Curiously enough it was gentle Amy who made a remark that saved the day—or should I say night? For it was after dark.

As the girls literally shivered, following the exclamation of Grace—shivered as much from the chilling rain as from the terror induced—Amy said, with such a queer intonation:

"Do you suppose that door opened itself to invite us in?"

There was a moment of silence. Then Grace giggled, Betty caught her breath in a gasp, Mollie went into a perfect gale of laughter, and Cousin Jane—well, she said it herself afterward—she snickered.

"Amy, that's the most sensible thing I've heard since this series of midnight adventures began," declared Mollie.

"And since the door did open to let us in, suppose we take advantage of it," suggested Betty, "and go in."

"What—into the—the haunted house!" and Grace's voice was shrill.

"Now see here!" began Betty, and her voice was as severe as she could make it, for she recognized that now was the time to get the situation well in hand. "This house is no more haunted than you are, Grace Ford."

"But—but——"

"'But me no buts,'" quoted Betty, merrily—as merrily as possible under the circumstances. "We are going to be sensible—and—go in."

Suiting the action to the word she advanced into the hall, through which the wind was now sweeping in rather mournful gusts. Mollie hesitated a moment, and then followed her chum. The action of the two leaders with the lanterns had a good effect on the others.

This might have been accounted for in two ways. The presence of Betty and Mollie in the hall may have had its effect, or the kindly lights of the auto, glowing so cozily, disclosed a shelter that, whatever its disadvantages, at least afforded dryness.

Then, too, the taking away of the lights from the three of the party who remained outside may have added to the effect. At any rate Grace stepped into the hall, followed by Cousin Jane, and then timid Amy, finding herself alone on the small porch, scurried in.

"Well, we're here!" said Betty, with a smile—rather a pale effort to tell the truth, but a smile nevertheless. "Now what is the next thing to do?"

"If we had only brought something to eat," sighed Grace. "And our chocolate outfit!" for they carried one, with a small alcohol stove, that they might make a hot drink when they stopped at noon for luncheon.

"No use crying over missing chocolate," said Mollie. "We're here, under shelter, anyhow; and we can keep dry. Now if we can find anyone at home we'll beg their hospitality for the night. Maybe they can get us a meal—if we pay for it."

"There's no one living in this house—I'm sure of that!" declared Amy. "Smell the musty odor—and—see——" she pushed open a door leading from the hall, and directed Betty's hand so that the lantern flashed inside. The room was bare and empty. "No one at all," she insisted. "The house is deserted."

"Well, so much the better," declared Grace. "That is, if there are no—no——" she did not finish, but looked around rather apprehensively.

"Ghosts—say it!" commanded Betty, sharply. "The oftener you use the word the less it will frighten you."

"Look here!" exclaimed Mollie. "I don't believe we're in the—the haunted house at all."

"Why not?" demanded Grace.

"Because this isn't at all like the kind of a house a millionaire would build. It's—common. You can see for yourselves."

It did indeed seem so.

"But we were close to the end of Shadow Valley, where Kenyon's Folly was built," insisted Grace, "and we turned in nearer to it when we took that cross-road. I'm sure it's the place."

"Well, it's a queer thing to be insisting that you are in a haunted house," remarked Betty, "but I am beginning to believe now that we are not. At least I agree with Mollie that this doesn't look at all like the place called Kenyon's Folly."

As the storm thundered and roared about them the girls looked around the hall and room. Truly it was but a poor structure, much fallen into decay now, yet at heart it was sound. Paint and decoration would do much to restore it.

"I think I can explain it," said Amy.

"Do then," begged Grace.

"Don't you remember, Mr. Lagg told us that there was a housekeeper's residence built to connect with the main structures?" she said. "There is a sort of covered passage, I believe, that goes to the main castle, as it were."

"Then the real haunted house must be—back there," and Grace pointed toward where they had observed the thick trees.

"Yes. We are only in the—annex," said Betty. "But it suits me."

"If we only had something to eat and drink we would—annex that," observed Grace. "I'm starved!"

"Let's have a look around, anyhow, as long as we are here," suggested Mollie. "We may as well stay here for the night——"

"For the night!" cried Grace.

"Yes. Where else can we go? I'm not going out in that storm again if I can help it. We're dry here, at least. Just listen to that rain!"

"It's coming down in torrents!" exclaimed Betty. "We simply can't go out."

"And it will give us something to do to explore a bit," added Mrs. Mackson. "Come along girls. Who knows but what we may find a table all set for us by fairy hands, as we used to read of in the story books?"

They paused for a moment. Not a sound came from the rooms and passage about them. Only the storm raged outside.

"Well, let's—let's——" began Mollie.

"Oh, come on!" cried Betty, as her chum hesitated. "At least we have lights."

"And I'm going to take off my wet coat," said Grace.

"Oh, if we could have a fire!"

"There's a fire place," said Betty, flashing her lamp into the room the door of which Amy had opened. "And, I do declare, some old boards and boxes! Why can't we have a fire?"

The idea appealed to all of them, and presently, taking heart, they entered the room, and piling some boxes, splintered boards and papers on the old hearth, set them ablaze.

As the ruddy flames leaped up the broad chimney they gathered about, much cheered, though still hungry.

"If we only had something to eat," sighed Grace. "I wonder, if by chance the former inhabitants left some morsels of food? Suppose we take a look?"

The others hesitated a moment, and then Mollie said:

"I'm with you!"

She caught up the still-glowing auto lamp, and led the way, the others following.

"Up stairs; or down stairs?" she challenged.

"Or in my lady's chamber?" completed Betty, with a laugh.

They went through various rooms. All were deserted. Here and there they saw discarded and broken furniture. But there was no sign of recent habitation. The house was musty and damp, but they were glad of shelter from the storm.

"Only my poor auto!" sighed Mollie. "I hope nothing happens to it."

"It can stand the weather," said Grace. "What is beyond here, I wonder?" she said, as they came to a pause before a closed door.

"Let's look," suggested Betty.

Like other portals in the house this one was not locked. Betty pushed it open, and a long passage was revealed.

"The way to—the haunted house!" exclaimed Mollie, rather dramatically.

"Hush!" begged Grace.

"Silly!" admonished Betty. "Come on."

She plunged into the passage. The echoing footsteps of the others following could be heard. She came to another door, opened it, and gave a cry of delight.

"Girls—supper!" she exclaimed, and, holding her light high up, she flashed it on a collection of groceries. Boxes of sardines there were, dried herring, crackers, some butter in a carton, a loaf of bread, canned tomatoes and peaches, and with all some dishes—knives and forks, spoons, and, most useful of all—a can-opener, and a corkscrew—and—a bottle of olives!

"Oh joy!" exclaimed Grace. "The fairy prince has been here!"

"Grace!" remonstrated Amy, as her friend caught up the bottle of olives and proceeded to open it. "We don't know whose they are."

"So much the better; our consciences won't trouble us. And if anyone comes to claim them we can pay for what we eat—I have money!" and she jingled her silver purse, "And now, 'let good digestion wait on appetite, and health on both,'" she quoted. "Fall to!"

The girls laughed, but they did "fall to." Cans and tins were opened, crackers and slices of bread spread, and with peach juice to drink, for they did not like to draw any water, fearing it might not be fresh—they ate—and ate—and ate again.

"Oh, how good I feel!" cried Grace, as there came a pause.

"But how in the world do you imagine this stuff got here?" asked Amy.

"Why seek to inquire?" spoke Mollie. "That it is here is sufficient for me. Another olive, Betty, dear?"

"The—our friend the ghost may have provided it," said Grace.

"You are coming on bravely," commented Betty. "If you will——"

She paused—they all did—mouths half opened. For from somewhere in the structure came a hollow and terrifying groan, and then followed the unmistakable sound of clinking metal, while a bluish light flashed around them. Then came another long-drawn cry—a shrill, eerie wail, and both their lights went out, leaving them in total darkness, while the storm shrieked about the old house, rocking it, and swaying it as though to tear it from its foundations.

CHAPTER XVI

"SO YOU HAVE COME BACK!"

Screams and frightened exclamations on the part of the girls followed the queer manifestations. Even Cousin Jane gave a cry of alarm, and clung to Betty. In fact, everyone was clinging to some one else, the table having been deserted at the first alarm.

There was silence for a moment—no, not altogether a silence, for the noise of the storm indicated that it was not in the least lessening, but there was comparative quiet in the room, and then again came that strange bluish, flickering glare, and the metallic clanging sound. Then there was that startling, hollow groan, that seemed to echo and re-echo through the deserted house.

"Oh! Oh!" moaned Grace. "This is awful—terrible!"

It was sufficiently terrible there in the darkness, illuminated only by the lightning, or by that weird blue glare that seemed to come from no place in particular, but which shone through the whole room—throwing into ghastly outlines the faces of the girls.

Their lamps had gone out—or been blown out—they did not know which, and as they clung to each other, their hearts pounding, every startled nerve on the alert, Amy gasped:

"What—what made the lights go out? Can anyone tell?"

Even then, Betty confessed afterward, she felt a hysterical desire to propound the old question of where a certain Biblical personage was when the light went out, but instead Grace answered before her:

"They were blown out by—by——" she hesitated.

"By the wind!" exclaimed Mollie, quickly. "What else? There's an awful draught in here. Who has the matches?"

It was the most sensible thing she could have said under the circumstances, and it somewhat relieved the tension.

"I have some," answered Grace. "But—but what has happened, anyhow?"

"It's the thunder and lightning," declared Cousin Jane. "It must have struck somewhere around here. It hit our barn once, and I noticed something the same as now. Maybe that put out the lights."

"Well, let's put them in service again," proposed Betty. "I don't like the dark."

"Neither do I—in here," spoke Mollie. "Please strike a match, Grace."

The interior of the old house was quiet now, as with fingers that would tremble in spite of her efforts to still them, Grace lighted a match, and applied the flickering flame to the wick of one of the lamps which Betty opened. Then, as the cheerful yellow glow shone around them, Amy cried:

"Oh, smell that sulphur!"

There was the unmistakable odor in the rather close air of the room.

"It's from the match," said Mollie.

"No, I didn't use a sulphur match," said Grace.

"It's the lightning," declared Cousin Jane. "I noticed that smell, too, when our barn was struck, and I felt as if pins and needles were sticking in me."

"Gracious! I hope that doesn't happen here!" exclaimed Betty, as she helped Grace light the other lantern. Then the girls looked at one another. From the faces they glanced to the table. Nothing there had been altered, nor had the room changed in appearance.

"Well, I'm glad it's over," said Betty with a sigh of relief. "I was certainly scared at first."

"So was I," admitted Mollie. "I really thought it was—the ghost."

Grace let out a startled cry.

"Stop it!" commanded the Little Captain.

"Well, I wish she wouldn't—blurt it out that way," Grace complained.

"Let's finish the meal," suggested Mollie. "There is some left, and there's no telling when the owner—or owners—may come along. If we've eaten it all up they can't do any more than make us pay for it, which we are perfectly willing to do. But if there's some food still left they might stop us from eating it. So let's begin again, girls."

"I've had all I want," faltered Grace.

"She's sorry because there are no chocolates," laughed Betty.

"No, I'm just too nervous to eat any more," said the tall, willowy one. "Oh, wasn't it awful? Those groans—the clanking of chains——"

"How do you know they were chains?" challenged Betty.

"Well, they sounded like them, anyhow."

"That's what we thought on Elm Island, and you know how that turned out."

"Oh, well, yes; but this is different," protested Grace. "These hollow groans—there they go again!" and she clutched Amy's arm so suddenly that a cracker and herring sandwich the latter was eating went to the floor.

Indeed there did sound through the deserted house a queer, groaning noise, as if some one was in distress. Betty gave voice to this suggestion, saying:

"Oh, girls, I wonder if any one can be—hurt?"

"Well, I'm not going to look!" cried Grace. "Oh, let's get away from this terrible place. I'd rather be out in the storm than here!"

"In that rain?" asked Mollie, as they listened to the down-rush of water. It even drowned the noise of the groans.

"That is only the wind," declared Mrs. Mackson, though she looked over her shoulder apprehensively. "The wind, moaning down an old chimney, or in some broken window, and around a corner—I have often heard it that way."

"You're a comfort, at least," murmured Betty. "But, girls, I really wonder if it could be anyone in trouble? Someone who took refuge in here from the storm, as we did, and who, wandering about, fell and got hurt. That girl, perhaps—the one from the tree——"

She paused, looking about for some support of her theory.

"Nonsense! How could she be here?" asked Mollie.

"Well, it's not very plausible," admitted Betty. "But some one is certainly in this place."

"Don't say that!" cried Grace.

"Don't be silly," advised Betty. "Why, of course some one is here, or has been here. Else how would that food get here? That is not ghostly, at all events. It was very material, and satisfying, and I'm deeply grateful for it. It stands to reason that some one expected to eat it.

"My theory is that some one, traveling perhaps like ourselves, only maybe not in an auto, was overtaken by the storm. More provident than we they had lunch with them, and brought it in here, intending to eat it. Then some accident happened to them, or——"

"The ghost carried them off," interrupted Mollie, with a glance of defiance at Grace, who shuddered, and looked behind her.

"Anyhow they're not here now," went on Betty. "And I don't know but that it is our duty to look for them."

"Never!" breathed Amy.

"At least we can go to the front door, and see if anyone is passing whom we can hail, and ask for help. If we could get a man, now——"

"Or even a good-sized boy," broke in Mollie.

"Yes, even a boy would do," conceded Betty. "We could get him to go with us into the other part of the house. There was where all the manifestations seemed to come from."

"Well, let's go to the front door and look," proposed Cousin Jane. "That can do no harm, and really I don't like to think of anyone being in distress."

"Especially after we've eaten his lunch," put in Grace.

"How do you know but that it is a 'her' and not a 'him'?" asked Mollie.

"Nobody but a man would come in here—after dark."

"But we girls did."

"Oh, look how many of us there are. There is safety in numbers."

"Well, I wouldn't be here if there was any other place to go," declared Grace. "Come on, if we're going," and she moved toward the door, keeping close to Betty meanwhile.

"There must have been some one here, or else how did we see the light which we followed, and which brought us here?" Mollie wanted to know.

"That, too, may have been caused by the lightning," said Cousin Jane.

"You are bound to ascribe everything to nature," objected Mollie. "It's nice of you, but perhaps not correct."

"Well, you know that electricity does queer things," declared the chaperone. "It might easily cause flickering lights, though I'm not saying but that some one has been here—the food proves that."

"Perhaps all the ghost is, after all, is lightning; or some tramp, who has made this his headquarters," said Betty. "Mr. Lagg would be glad to know that."

"We'll tell him," suggested Mollie. "It's a pity, while we are here, that we don't solve the mystery of the haunted house. Of course, strictly speaking, we are not in the mansion proper, but we could go there——"

"Don't you dare!" cried Grace.

They were going along the passage by which they had entered. The rain was not coming down so hard now, and the lightning and thunder were less frequent. The door was swinging to and fro on its hinges, swayed by the wind which blew in gusts up and down the passage.

Mollie was in the rear, carrying one lantern, with Betty in the lead with the other. They had almost reached the outer door, and were eagerly hoping they would see some friendly passer-by when a noise behind her caused Mollie to turn quickly. She saw a tall white object in a proverbially ghostly winding sheet. It had come from a side room.

The thing stretched out two white arms, and hands clutched themselves in Mollie's long hair, which had come loose and was hanging down her back in glorious tresses. Then a snarling voice cried:

"So you've come back; have you! Well, you won't get away from me again! Now you get in there!"