The Mystery at Bob-White Cave

by Campbell, Julie

  “Everybody acts so queer,” Mrs. Moore said to the Bob-Whites after they’d changed to dry clothes. “Bill hardly drank a spoonful of coffee. Did anything happen over there in the cave? Was that Slim up to more of his wickedness?”

  “Jim, bring out the bait buckets, please, and show Mrs. Moore what we found today,” Trixie said as she sipped her hot chocolate. “We found fish and salamanders, and Mart has a queer bottle and a spider in his specimen jar. It was quite a day!”

  “You can say that again!” Mart said solemnly.

  Jim showed Mrs. Moore the fish, then he and the other boys took the buckets down to the cold cellar to the galvanized tank.

  “You aren’t fooling me one bit, Trixie Belden,” Mrs. Moore said when they had gone. “I know something out of the way happened at the cave. Look at Honey’s face!”

  “My face?” Honey asked. “What’s wrong with my face?”

  “It has fright printed all over it,” Mrs. Moore said. “I don’t have a daughter your age without being able to read a girl’s face. Never mind; your uncle and Linnie just drove in the yard, and it won’t take him long to find out what’s wrong.”

  It didn’t take Uncle Andrew long to find out, because Bill Hawkins told him as soon as he stepped from the wagon. The Bob-Whites saw him in earnest conversation with Uncle Andrew and ran out into the yard. Mrs. Moore followed.

  Trixie put her arms around her uncle. He held her close to him and listened, white-faced, till Bill Hawkins finished his story.

  “It wasn’t that way at all,” Trixie tried to explain. “It wasn’t Mr. Hawkins’s fault. It was every single bit mine, no matter what anyone says.”

  Uncle Andrew’s arms tightened around Trixie. “My own brother’s child nearly drowned. Oh, I do thank God you’re safe. These children,” he said to Bill Hawkins, “are as dear to me as they could possibly be if they were my own. To think how near we came to losing this little girl! How could you, Bill?”

  Mrs. Moore held her apron over her face and cried unrestrainedly.

  “It wasn't Mr. Hawkins’s fault. I keep telling you that, Uncle Andrew. He didn’t know a thing about what was going on inside that cave. He was watching for Slim outside, just as you told him to. Tell him you don’t blame him, please. He feels so bad!”

  “It’ll take me some time to do that, Trixie. I’m sorry, Bill, but that’s the way it has to be.”

  “I don’t blame you a bit, Andy. It’ll be a longer time till I forgive myself. I’ve still got to tell Minnie about it, too.” He strode off up the trail that led to his house.

  “I hate to see him so worried. He’s such a nice man, and, jeepers, Uncle Andrew, I’m all right. Don’t think I wasn’t scared, because I was, but, heavens, I don’t want everyone to get so worked up about it. The Bob-Whites rallied to help. They always do. Nothing can happen to one of us when the others are near... nothing!”

  “I wish I were as convinced of that as you are, Trixie. The Bob-Whites are a fine group of young people. No doubt about that. But remember this!” he shook his finger to emphasize his statement. “No more spelunking for any of you! I want to see you get on that train to Springfield in one piece. I don’t expect more than one miracle to happen in a few days’ time. I’ve been blessed with two. Trixie was saved from that wildcat, and now she’s been saved from drowning. I don’t intend to try the mercy of the Almighty too far.” Uncle Andrew’s voice shook with vehemence born of released tension.

  Amazed and shocked at her uncle’s mandate, Trixie took some time to find her voice.

  “You can’t possibly mean that! That cave is just full of ghost fish! We have to earn that reward. We have to have the five hundred dollars!”

  “I’ll give you five hundred gladly,” Uncle Andrew said.

  Trixie shook her head positively. “We can’t take it from you. We’ve never had one penny given to us for one of our projects. We’ve always earned the money. Oh, dear, I just know we can find all three specimens that man wants! Uncle Andrew, please!”

  “Not one step into any cave,” Uncle Andrew said, his face grim. “What a day!” He straightened and seemed to pull himself together with an effort. “Mrs. Moore, I think we’ll all feel better when we’ve had our dinner.”

  Dinner didn’t help. No one could eat. No one could say a word. Once, in the living room after dinner, Jim tried to change Uncle Andrew’s mind. “We could take some solid beams and lay them across that hole. With a rope ladder fastened to them, it would be a breeze to go down in that well,” he began.

  Uncle Andrew just held up his hand, and Jim was silenced. “We’ve had enough of that subject. Even though you haven’t asked me, I’ll tell you about my talk with Sam Owens today.”

  “It went out of my mind completely,” Trixie said. “Did he question Slim?”

  “He couldn’t find him. Somebody told Sam they thought they saw Slim getting into a boxcar as the morning freight pulled out of White Hole Springs.”

  “Doesn’t that look as though he’s guilty?” Mart asked.

  “It does. The men I saw in town were stirred up over the rumor that he set the fire. He may have been afraid of a necktie party.”

  “Did Mr. Owens question the man in the ghost cabin?”

  “He couldn’t find him, either. He disappeared into the woods. But I talked with Mr. Glendenning, the Englishman you Bob-Whites saved from the lake. He stayed for a while at the ghost cabin, you’ll recall.”

  “What did he say?” Trixie asked eagerly.

  “That the man he stayed with wouldn’t hurt a fly. He said he was sort of confused—maybe a little off in the head—but the kindest person he ever knew.”

  “With those gasoline rags in his shed and the gasoline can there, too?” Mart asked.

  “Mr. Glendenning said the rags and can belonged to him. It wasn’t gasoline. It just smelled like it. It was carbon tetrachloride, and he used it for cleaning the rock specimens he dug out of the hillside.”

  “There goes Slim’s defense. That and the fact that he ran away. Couldn’t the sheriff have sent word ahead to the next station by telegraph to have Slim picked up there?”

  “He did that. Either Slim was good at hiding, or the man never saw him get on the freight in the first place. He wasn’t on it when the officer at Laurel, the next stop, searched the train. Mr. Glendenning said something else,” Uncle Andrew went on. “He said that when Slim rowed his boat back for him the day you Bob-Whites rescued him, Slim told him he knew where the ghost fish specimens could be found and he’d show him for a price. Mr. Glendenning didn’t see anything wrong with that, and one evening Slim took him over to the cave.”

  “He showed him our fish,” Trixie said breathlessly. “He did. Mr. Glendenning said he recognized it as a ghost fish, paid Slim a good price for it, and took it to the cabin in the bait bucket it was in. Then, while he was in town, the bait bucket disappeared. He has no idea how it got back to the cave. Anyway—” Uncle Andrew drew a deep breath—“I’ve a feeling we’ve seen the last of a young scoundrel named Slim. White Hole Springs or anyplace else around here would be too hot for him to set foot in.”

  “I don’t know what makes people bad the way Slim is,” Honey said. “Maybe if he’d ever had a chance....”

  “I gave him a chance when I hired him to act as your guide. He just didn’t recognize it. Till the day he dies, he’ll think it’s easier to make a dollar by stealing than by hard work. When blame is being passed

  around, I surely can claim my share for ever letting him in the same room with you young people. It’s a lesson to me. The fact is, we’ve all learned a lot, and it’s time we turned in and thought it over.”

  Misplaced Memory ● 17

  AFTER THEY WENT upstairs, the Bob-Whites had a conference in the girls’ room. They sat around with glum faces.

  “I know just what you’re all thinking,” Trixie said. “You’re thinking that if I hadn’t gone down into that sinkhole in the cave, we wouldn’t be confined to quarters. You’re right
. But, jeepers, we wouldn’t have any fish, either.”

  “If you’d sent up more ghost fish in that bucket instead of the darned old worms,” Mart said, “we’d probably be sitting on Cloud Nine, with the reward in our hands.”

  “I’m so glad Trixie is safe that I don’t want to blame anyone,” Honey said. “If we don’t find any more ghost fish, we’ll think up some other way of raising money after we go back home. We’ve always been able to find a way when we needed to. Maybe we could have a talent show or some sort of sale....”

  Trixie got up from her seat on the side of the bed, took her mother’s letter from the dresser, read it, folded it, and turned around to the group.

  “Have we ever in our lives started a project and not finished it? No. Then are we going to leave this project unfinished if it’s humanly possible not to? No. Let’s go downstairs right now and talk it out with Uncle Andrew. Of course I was foolish to go down in that well, but how did I know a cloudburst was on its way? I’d have been perfectly safe if that hadn’t happened.”

  “That’s debatable,” Jim said. “You should have told Bill Hawkins, and you should have called Brian and me, but you know that now, and I’m not going to say any more. Right now, if you think my opinion is worth anything, I feel it would be a mistake to go downstairs and talk to your uncle again tonight. He’s had a terrible shock. I think our chances are better if we talk to him tomorrow.”

  “I heartily agree,” Brian said. “If we can come up with some idea that will insure a maximum of safety, he may change his mind. Gosh, I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. Let’s all hit the sack. Good night, Trix, Honey.”

  The boys went to their room, and the lodge darkened for the night.

  The next morning, it didn’t seem as though Brian were a very good prophet.

  The Bob-Whites visited the tank in the cold cellar room and came back with long faces. An inventory had shown two ghost fish in the middle stage of evolution and one with eyes, but none wholly eyeless. That meant the evolutionary sequence was not complete, and they couldn’t possibly qualify for the reward. The ghost salamander was extra and probably had no value; neither did the crayfish or the other specimens Mart had. Brian and Jim’s rock specimens shone bright with minerals when they put them under a light, but they were only souvenirs.

  Uncle Andrew was affable. He laughed and talked about many things—but not about ghost fish and the reward.

  The Bob-Whites were subdued and quiet. They were polite, but they couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Uncle Andrew seemed to be able to take just so much of their silence and gloomy faces; then he exploded.

  “All right, out with it. I can’t stand having all of you act like chief mourners. Even Jacob acts as if I’m an unfriendly stranger.”

  Trixie started to speak.

  Uncle Andrew held up his hand. “Never mind. I know what’s bothering you. It’s that blasted fish. I haven’t changed my mind one bit about the danger you’d be getting into, but—”

  Trixie jumped from her seat.

  “But something Jim said last night stayed in my mind. He spoke of putting strong beams across the top of the hole and—”

  “We could do it, Uncle Andrew!” Trixie clapped her hands and shouted. “There are beams right outside in the lumber pile. Hooray!”

  “Not so fast, young lady. If there’s to be another expedition to the cave, I’ll go, too.”

  “That would be great!” Mart said.

  “You can see for yourself, then, that there’s no danger when it isn’t raining,” Trixie said. “May we start?”

  “In a little while,” Uncle Andrew said.

  “We only have today. Tomorrow we have to take the specimens to the man in White Hole Springs and then leave for home. Please, Uncle Andrew?” Trixie pleaded.

  “I want to wait for one thing; then we can start,” Uncle Andrew said. “Linnie, please ride over and ask Bill Hawkins if he’d join us. Tell him I need him.” Trixie ran to her uncle and hugged him. “You’re an old fraud and a darling!” she said. “Mr. Hawkins will be so relieved to have you say that. I felt sorry for him last night.”

  “Try feeling sorry for me, with my responsibility,” Uncle Andrew said. “And, for heaven’s sake, stay close to Bill and me, all of you, and be careful!”

  When they entered the cave, they found that the water had receded, leaving the clay floor slippery and mottled with pools. With some difficulty, they shoved wooden beams through the crawlway to the room where the sinkhole was.

  “If there’s still deep water in that hole, I’ll just die!” Trixie said under her breath to Jim. “We’ll never get Uncle Andrew to come over here again.”

  Carefully they made their way across the room, around the stalagmites and rocks, to the edge of the sinkhole. Inside, happily, the water had drained to the level at which it had been when Trixie went down the day before.

  Uncle Andrew and Bill Hawkins circled the hole and bent frequently to look down into its depths.

  “See!” Trixie said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “You’re irrepressible, Trixie,” her uncle said.

  “I have another word for it,” Mart said. “Let me be the one to go down this time. I weigh less than Jim or Brian.”

  “No—please, please, no!” Trixie protested. “I want to be the one to go. I was down there once, and I know just what to do. Please!”

  “It’s no place for a girl,” Uncle Andrew answered quickly. “You almost died down there yesterday, Trixie. Do you want to take another chance?”

  “Yes, yes, I do. It’s only right. I saw the fish, and I want to be the one to go after them. Mr. Hawkins, tell Uncle Andrew there’s no danger now. It was that cloudburst that was to blame.”

  “I’m not the one to say,” Bill Hawkins answered.

  “She’s a spunky young ’un, I will say that.”

  “There’ll be six of us up here to watch,” Jim said. “Her heart’s so set on being the one to get the fish. You might as well let her go, Mr. Belden.”

  Reluctantly Uncle Andrew gave his consent. He watched intently while Jim and Brian carefully placed the beams over the hole and securely adjusted the rope ladder.

  “This will be a breeze this time,” Trixie said exultantly and went down the ladder.

  The rain had washed in an assortment of queer creatures—transparent crayfish, flatworms, spiders, beetles, and salamanders.

  “Don’t waste any time on worms,” Mart called. “Do you see any fish?”

  “Swarms of them!” Trixie called up triumphantly.

  She dipped her net again and again and sent the plastic bucket to the top.

  “Are they the right kind?” she called.

  “There’s another one with eyes,” Jim answered.

  “And more with just bumps for eyes... two of them, I mean,” Brian added.

  -“And some... yes, two with no eyes at all!” Honey cried.

  “That’s all you’re after, isn’t it?” Uncle Andrew, kneeling, asked anxiously, his huge flashlight illuminating the whole inside of the hole.

  “Send up a few more for good luck!” Mart shouted. “Then come on up, Trixie.”

  Trixie did as Mart asked. Then, holding tight to the ladder, she carefully climbed to the top and out. Her clothes were soaked, but she didn’t care. “Just look at them!” she shouted. “Right there in those bait buckets! Aren’t they beautiful?”

  “Five hundred dollars’ worth,” Mart said, then added, “I hope.”

  Trixie whirled around. “What do you mean, you hope?” she asked.

  “Someone could have found the specimens ahead of us.”

  “What a horrible thought, Mart Belden! I’ve had the strangest feeling ever since we’ve been here, though, that Slim is around someplace.”

  “Stop bothering about Slim,” Jim said and picked up one of the bait buckets. “I think you struck gold in this cave. I doubt whether there’s another spot like it.”

  “Well,
then,” Trixie said confidently, “we’ll just get them into White Hole Springs and settle the whole business. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  Uncle Andrew watched, relieved, as the Bob-Whites assembled all their paraphernalia and crept back through the crawlway. “Now that that’s over, I can rest peacefully for a while,” he said.

  He spoke too soon.

  When they emerged from the cave, an appalling thing was happening down on the beach, right in front of their eyes.

  “It’s Slim!” Trixie screamed. “Hurry! He’s killing a man! Jim!”

  Slim, immediately aware that he had been seen, quickly pushed the man to the ground and dashed toward his boat.

  Jim, swift as a deer, attacked with a flying lunge. Slim dodged adroitly and delivered a swinging right that struck Jim on the jaw and threw him to his hands and knees. Slim backed off then and edged toward the waiting boat, grinning insolently.

  Brian started to Jim’s assistance, but Uncle Andrew waved him back. “Jim can take him! He doesn’t want help.”

  With that, Jim was up again, crouching and weaving, closing in on Slim. This time he landed a hard one-two that caught Slim off guard and took his wind. In a second Jim was at him, his right shoulder lowered. Before Slim knew what had happened, he went cartwheeling over Jim’s shoulder and fell, spread-eagled, on the ground.

  “Tie him up now!” Jim called, dusting his hands.

  Elated, Brian and Mart quickly bound Slim with their nylon ropes. He lay inert, panting and cursing.

  “That stunt, with all the rest of your meanness, will get you a good term in the pokey,” Bill Hawkins said sternly. He picked up the rifle that lay close to the water’s edge.

  “A killer,” Uncle Andrew said soberly. “That’s the kind of guide I picked for these young people. I’d like to be on the jury that tries him.”

  “It ain’t my gun,” Slim mumbled. “It’s his’n.” He jerked his head toward his victim.

  Swiftly Trixie and Honey turned their attention to the fallen man. Half-conscious, he put his hand again and again to his head. He groaned pitifully.