“I didn’t realize we had walked so far,” said Norma, apparently reading her thoughts. “But I know I am right. Here are the woods and the steep hill, just as grandma has described them a hundred times. This is Indian Chasm.”
The girls looked at her curiously. Betty had not told them the story, believing that Alice and Norma should have that sole right. Now Norma rapidly sketched the outlines for them and they listened breathlessly, for surely this true story was more thrilling than any piece of fiction, however highly colored.
“I never heard of anything so romantic!” was Libbie’s comment.
To which Bobby retorted with cousinly severity:
“Romantic? Where do you see anything romantic in a band of Indians scalping a peaceful white family?”
“Oh, Bobby!” protested Norma, laughing. “They didn’t scalp grandma. They stole everything she had.”
“And is all that stuff down there now?” asked Constance Howard, round-eyed. “Perhaps if we look we can see something.”
There was a concerted rush to the chasm’s edge, and the eight girls plumped down flat on their stomachs, determined to see whatever there was to be seen.
The sides of the earth fell away sharply, down, down. Betty shouted, and the empty echo of her voice came back to her.
“The ground’s so shaly and crumbly,” she said thoughtfully, “that it would be impossible to let a man down with a rope—the earth would cave in and bury him.”
“I think I see a diamond,” reported Libbie. “Don’t you see something glittering down there?”
“Can’t even see the bottom,” said Bobby curtly. “Much less a diamond. Oh, girls, to think of those valuables at the bottom of a chasm like this and none of us able to think up a way to get ’em out.”
“Well, lots of people have tried,” said Alice reasonably. “If grown-up men couldn’t salvage ’em for grandma, I guess it’s nothing to our discredit that we can’t get them.”
“We might push Libbie in,” suggested Bobby wickedly. “Then she could tell us how deep it is.”
This had the effect of sending Libbie scurrying away from the dangerous place, and the others followed her more slowly to resume the search for nuts.
“I wish we could think of a way, Norma, dear,” said Betty.
“Oh, I don’t care—not so very much,” answered Norma bravely. But then she sighed deeply.
CHAPTER XVII
CAUGHT IN THE STORM
The Shadyside gymnasium was equipped with a fine pool, and it was the school’s boast that every girl learned to swim during her first term. Perhaps the proximity of the lake and the lure of the small fleet of canoes and rowboats tied up at the wharf had something to do with the success of the swimming classes. No girl who could not swim was permitted on the lake, alone or with a companion.
Betty and her chums awaited their final tests eagerly—so excited the last day or two they could scarcely keep their minds on their books or sit in patience through a recitation—and passed them with flying colors. Constance Howard was an excellent swimmer, and it was the sight of her paddling gracefully about the lake on sunny Saturday afternoons that spurred the seven who could not swim on to greater effort.
“Come on,” cried Betty gaily, taking the gymnasium steps two at a time. “Come, girls—this afternoon we go rowing. I’ve my ‘stiffcut,’ as Mr. Peabody used to call it, and we’ve all passed. Oh, it’s cloudy!”
She looked at the sky disappointedly. When they had gone into the pool an hour before the sun had been shining brightly, but now the gray clouds were thick overhead and the air was chilly.
“Who cares for the weather?” said Bobby scornfully. “Guess it will take more than a little rain to stop me! I’ve been crazy to take a row-boat out for three weeks.”
“Perhaps it will clear,” contributed the optimistic Louise.
But after lunch the sky was still overcast.
“Don’t be silly—it won’t rain,” urged Bobby, as her chums demurred. “Next Saturday it may be too cold. Oh, come on, girls.”
Thus incited, they went down to the wharf and made their choice of boats. Norma and Alice wanted to take out a canoe, and they offered to paddle for Libbie, who seemed disinclined to exercise. Betty had wondered once or twice if the girl were ill, for she seemed very nervous, jumped if a door slammed or some one spoke to her suddenly, and in the morning looked as if she had not slept well.
Betty and Bobby selected a flat-bottomed row-boat and for passenger they took Frances, who offered to help row if they became tired.
Louise and Constance chose another canoe.
They headed north, and once out in the center of the lake, paddled and rowed steadily. Betty’s rowing experience was limited, but Bobby was proud of her “stroke,” and soon taught her chum the secret of handling the oars.
“Ship ahoy!” shouted Bobby presently.
Libbie jumped and looked ahead anxiously.
“It’s only the boys,” she said dully.
An eight-oared rowing shell shot down to them, and the freckled-faced coxswain, Gilbert Lane, one of the boys the girls had met at Bob and Tommy’s “party,” grinned cheerfully.
“Where you going?” he asked, resting a friendly hand on the rowboat’s rim.
Bobby described an arc with her oar that incidentally showered the questioner with shining water drops.
“We’re out for adventure,” she answered airily.
“Just got our swimming certificates today,” volunteered Betty.
Bob flashed her a congratulatory smile.
“Race you to the end of the lake?” suggested Tommy Tucker.
Bobby regarded him with magnificent scorn.
“As if eight of you couldn’t beat two!” she said significantly. “I never heard such talk! Why you’d have a walk!” she added.
The boys shouted with laughter.
“You’re a poet, Bobby,” declared Tommy. “Tennyson had nothing on you—had he, Libbie?”
Libbie turned her dark eyes on him and frowned a little.
“I wasn’t listening,” she said indifferently.
“Well, anyway, row up to the end of the lake, will you?” suggested Gilbert. “With drill night ahead of us, we want a little brightness to remember the day by.”
Canoes, rowboat and shell swept on up the lake, and when the scrubby pines that bordered the narrow peak of the north shore were in sight, Bobby glanced back over her shoulder at Betty.
“You’re spattering me,” she complained.
“I thinks it’s beginning to rain,” said Betty mildly, and even as she spoke, Louise called to them:
“Girls, it’s beginning to pour!”
A sudden blast of wind struck them, blowing the rain against their backs.
“Keep on rowing!” shouted Bob’s voice. “We’ll have to land and walk back. You girls can never beat back against this storm. We’re almost to the shore now.”
A few minutes more and the boats touched shore. The boys were out in an instant and helped the girls to land.
“We’ll carry up the boats—don’t you think that is best, Tommy?” shouted Bob. “If we carry them up high enough and leave them, they will be perfectly safe.”
The wind and the rain made shouting necessary if one’s voice were to carry above the storm. The boys lifted the light boats and carried them into the woods, turning them over so that the keels were up.
“Now the question is,” said Bob, who seemed by common consent to have been elected leader, “shall we walk along the shore and get drenched, or take a chance of finding our way through the woods?”
To their astonishment, Libbie burst into a fit of hysterical weeping.
“Don’t go through the woods,” she begged, her teeth chattering. “We’ll fall into that awful Indian Chasm.”
Bobby’s heart reproached her for her thoughtless joke and she put an arm around her cousin.
“Libbie, you never thought I was serious about pushing you into the chasm, did you?�
� she asked anxiously. “Is that what has been making you act so queerly ever since? I was only fooling.”
So, thought Betty, Bobby, too, had noticed Libbie’s unnatural behavior.
“Oh, it isn’t that,” sobbed Libbie. “I can’t explain—but if we go through the woods, I’m sure I shall go crazy.”
“Well, then, that settles it,” said Bob comfortably. “Better to be drowned than to go crazy. Can you turn up your sweater collars, girls? I wish we’d brought some raincoats along.”
Splashing and stumbling, they followed Bob down to the shore and began the weary walk that would lead them back to the school. After fifteen minutes’ steady walking they came to a dense undergrowth that was impossible to penetrate.
“No use, we’ll have to make a cut through the woods,” announced Bob. “Up this way and over, ought to bring us out right.”
He was so cheerful and patient that the tired, rain-soaked girls could not do otherwise than follow his example. Libbie was crying silently, but the others tramped along cheerfully, singing, at Betty’s suggestion, old college and school songs.
“Look here, Bob,” said Tommy Tucker in an undertone, “I don’t think we’re going in the right direction. Don’t you say it would be better to take the girls to that deserted cabin we found the other day and leave them there while we explore a bit? They’re getting soaked through, and Libbie Littell is fixing to have hysterics. Leave a couple of the boys with ’em, so they won’t be afraid, and then we’ll locate the right trail and take ’em over it home in a hurry.”
This suggestion sounded like good, common-sense to Bob, and he said so.
“Betty could walk ten miles and be all right,” he declared proudly, “and I think Bobby is good for a hike, too. But Frances Martin can’t see when the rain gets on her glasses, and, as you say, something is the matter with Libbie. So let’s make for the cabin, quick.”
The Salsette boys had explored the woods pretty thoroughly, and on a recent expedition Bob and his chums had stumbled on an old one-room cabin, buried deep in the woods and evidently unoccupied for years. It was not far from the end of the lake, and toward it they now led the girls, explaining as they went what they intended to do.
“We’ll be all right,” said Betty at once. “I think if Libbie can sit down and rest she’ll feel better, too. And if you all want to go and hunt for the trail, you needn’t worry about us.”
“Oh, Sydney and I intend to stay,” Gilbert Lane assured her quickly. (The boys had settled that among themselves.) “We’ll be handy in case any Indians or the like come after you.”
Betty gave him a warning glance, for Libbie looked frightened. Surely something was wrong with the girl!
The cabin door was open and the interior was comparatively dry. There was no furniture, but three or four old packing boxes furnished the girls with seats. Bob and five of his friends disappeared, whistling. Gilbert and Sydney were investigating the ramshackle fireplace to see what the prospects were for starting a fire when a shriek from Libbie brought them to their feet.
“A ghost!” cried the girl. “A ghost! Over there in the corner!”
Frances Martin gave a cry, and Betty and Bobby went white. Even Gilbert afterward confessed that his scalp prickled when a figure stepped forward from a narrow closet against the wall.
“Ugh! Howdy!” he grunted, and they saw that he was a very old and very dirty Indian.
“Rain,” he said slowly, pointing to the door. “Stop soon now. Go get supper.”
He shuffled over the doorsill and at the edge he turned.
“Howdy!” he said, apparently with some vague idea of farewell. “Much rain!”
Petrified, they watched him hobble away through the woods.
CHAPTER XVIII
LIBBIE’S SECRET
Gilbert Lane was the first to recover his voice.
“Well, what do you know about that!” he ejaculated. “The old bird was here all the time.”
“Are—are—are there any more of them?” stammered Louise.
“No, that old fellow is the only Indian for miles around,” said Gilbert carelessly. “He was left behind, the fellows at school say, when that band stole the Macklin treasure. They had a grudge against him, it seems, and they tripped him and left him with a broken leg. He worked around on different farms for years and now does a day’s work often enough to keep him in food. Queer old dick, I guess.”
“What makes you girls look so funny?” demanded Sydney. “You’re not afraid now, are you? That Indian won’t come back—he was more afraid of us than we were of him. I figure out he was asleep when we came in and the noise woke him up. What are you smiling about?”
“My grandmother is Mrs. Marcia Macklin,” explained Norma. “And you see it was her gold and silver and jewels the Indians stole. I wonder what he would have said if we had told him?”
“Gee, is that so?” asked Sydney, ignoring the latter half of Norma’s sentence. “And is all that stuff down in the chasm yet?”
“As far as we know, it is,” said Norma. “And likely to remain there,” she added, with a sigh.
Bob and the boys returned in less than half an hour, to announce that they had found the right road and were prepared to pilot the girls expeditiously homeward. Libbie’s cheeks were unnaturally flushed and she looked miserable, but she refused to let Bob and Tommy carry her by forming a “chair” with their hands.
“I’m all right,” she insisted hoarsely. “I only want to get home.”
Knowing the way positively saved much fumbling and time, and soon the familiar buildings of Shadyside loomed up before them. The boys had a long tramp still before them, and if they were not to be late for supper, must walk briskly. They continued on their way, while the girls ran up the steps of the dormitory building.
“There’s no use talking, Libbie, you’ve got to see the infirmary nurse,” said Bobby resolutely. “I promised your mother to look after you, and if you’re going to be sick you’ll at least have the proper care. Wait till we get into some dry things, and I’ll take you.”
Libbie looked rebellious, but she made no verbal protest, and when they were once more in dry clothes Bobby marched her cousin to the immaculate infirmary. She returned alone, saying that the nurse had detained Libbie for observation over night.
“She thinks she’s getting a heavy cold, but it may be more serious,” Bobby reported. “Well, anyway, I’ve done my duty. But romantic people are always forgetting to wear their rubbers.”
Betty had just drowsed off to sleep that night, the girls having gone to bed immediately after the study hour, for the afternoon in the wind and rain had made them extraordinarily sleepy, when a soft knock on the door startled her.
She slipped out of bed and ran to the door, opening it carefully so as not to wake Bobby. Miss Morris, the school nurse, and Miss Lacey stood there.
“Elizabeth isn’t worse,” said Miss Morris hastily, noting Betty’s look of alarm. “But she is very restless and wants to see you. Miss Lacey says you may come up. Get your dressing gown and slippers, dear.”
Betty obeyed quickly. Libbie was probably lonely, she reflected.
The infirmary consisted of three connecting rooms, fitted with two single beds in each, and Libbie happened to be the only patient. She was sitting up in bed, well wrapped up, when Betty saw her, her eyes unnaturally bright, her cheeks very red.
“Now I’ll leave you two girls together for exactly half an hour,” said the nurse kindly. After that Elizabeth must go to sleep.”
“Is the door shut—shut tight?” demanded Libbie feverishly, grasping Betty’s hand with both her hot, dry ones.
“Yes, dear, yes,” affirmed Betty soothingly. “What’s the matter, Libbie—is your throat sore?”
“Oh, Betty, I’m in such terrible trouble!” gasped Libbie, her eyes overflowing. “I’m so frightened!”
“Tell me about it, dear,” soothed Betty. “I’ll help you, you know I will. Has it anything to do with school?”
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br /> She was totally unprepared for Libbie’s next words.
“I have to have some money—a lot of money, Betty. I’ve spent my last allowance and I can’t write home for more because they will ask me why I want it. I’ve borrowed so much from Louise that I can’t ask her again! I ought to pay it back. But I’ve got to have twenty dollars by to-morrow night.”
“What for? What’s the matter?” asked Betty, in alarm.
“You’ll promise not to tell Bobby?” demanded Libbie intensely. “Promise me you won’t tell Bobby? She’d scold so. And Mrs. Eustice would expel me. If you won’t tell Bobby or Mrs. Eustice, Betty, I’ll tell you.”
Betty was now thoroughly aroused. She knew that impulsive novel-reading Libbie went about with her pretty head filled with all sorts of trashy ideas, and she didn’t know what lengths she might have gone to. If Mrs. Eustice would expel her, the affair must be serious indeed.
“I’ll promise,” said Betty rashly. “Tell me everything, Libbie, and if I can I’ll help you.”
“Well, you remember when we went nutting?” said Libbie. “I carried a bottle with me with—with my name and address written on a slip of paper inside. I read about that in a book. And I said to leave an answer in the same bottle. I—I buried it just at the foot of the hill, before we began to climb. Louise was with me, but she was hunting for specimens for her botany book.”
“So that’s why you hung back, was it?” said Betty. “I wish to goodness Louise was more interested in what is going on around her. She might have stopped you. Go on—what happened to your silly bottle?”
“I buried it,” repeated Libbie, “and two days after I went out and dug it up. And there was an answer in it.”
“What did it say?” demanded Betty practically.
“I’ve got it here—” Libbie reached under her pillow and pulled out a slip of paper.
“It says ‘Leave ten dollars in this same place tonight, or Mrs. Eustice shall hear of this.’ And, of course,” concluded Libbie, “I put ten dollars in the bottle, because whoever found it had the slip with my name on it to show Mrs. Eustice.”
Betty studied the paper. The handwriting was a strong backhand, not at all an illiterate hand.
The Second Girl Detective Megapack: 23 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls Page 233