Cherry Ames Boxed Set 13-16

by Helen Wells

  “I know,” Cherry said. They switched on their miners’ lamps and started off. Meg led the way, flashing her lamp on the walls and boards to see if they were following the newly dug tunnel. They raced along for quite some distance, then Meg stopped suddenly.

  “Look!” she said to Cherry. “This is where the new part ends.”

  The two girls shone the lamps over the sides of the tunnel and they could see clearly where the old shoring was next to the new. Beyond the newly dug part, the tunnel continued, but it had been dug and shored up long ago.

  “Listen!” Cherry put her hand on Meg’s arm. The two of them stood still for a moment. “I hear the pounding of waves on the shore,” Cherry said. “Don’t you, Meg?”

  “Yes,” Meg answered. “We are near Rogues’ Cave.”

  “Meg, we can’t be far from the hidey-hole, can we?” asked Cherry.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Meg said. “Tammie. Tammie may be in the hidey-hole.”

  They raced down the tunnel, the sound of the sea growing louder and louder in their ears all the time. At last they came to the passage that Cherry remembered from her visit with Meg. They were not far from the hidey-hole.

  Cherry began calling, “Tammie! Tammie, where are you!”

  Meg was infected by Cherry’s desperately hopeful cry that Tammie must be there in the hidey-hole, or in the cave somewhere. Meg took up the call and both girls shouted at the top of their lungs.

  The tunnel echoed and re-echoed their call of “Tammie, Tammie, Tammie.”

  Suddenly ahead of them a little door screeched over the stones. Their lights picked up a small figure in sou’wester, oilskins, and high rubber hoots emerging from the hidey-hole.

  He cried, “Meg! Oh, Cherry!” and rushing forward flung his arms around them.

  Half an hour later, a dismal-appearing group, muddy and dirty from head to foot, went trooping into the hall of Barclay House. They made a great clatter. Cherry and Meg, holding Tammie’s hands, marched in first. Then came Little Joe Tweed and the three sullen members of the Heron’s crew, their hands tied behind their backs. Bringing up the rear were Lloyd, Dr. Mackenzie, and Old Jock, with bags of native silver flung over their shoulders, looking like country peddlers. All the men were dirty, their clothes torn, and bore bruises and scratches.

  Higgins on his way downstairs from the second floor was stopped in his tracks at the amazing apparition.

  “Where’s Uncle Ian?” asked Lloyd at once.

  “He’s in the library with Mr. Broderick, sir,” replied Higgins, mouth agape.

  Just then they heard a door open and Sir Ian’s voice say, “You may bankrupt me if you like, Mr. Broderick, but you’ll never get control of the Balfour Mines.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” said Mr. Broderick firmly.

  “I know what I’m talking about and ye don’t,” said Sir Ian. “For the last couple of days I’ve been carefully checking over everything I possess. My share in the mines right now will pay just about what I owe the bank. Barclay House and everything in it belong to my daughter Meg. I don’t own anything else. Either ye take the payments on the money ye loaned me—and I’ll pay several thousand a quarter out of my income, or ye leave it.”

  “Suppose I choose to leave it,” said Broderick.

  “Then ye’ll be cutting off your nose to spite your face,” declared Sir Ian. “Ye won’t get your money back and ye won’t gain control of the mines, either.”

  “I don’t want to press you too much,” Broderick said, sounding slightly disconcerted. “You’ve been a great man in Canadian mining for too many years and your family before you. I admire your courage, holding onto a family dynasty in these modern times.”

  “I’m much obliged to ye,” said Sir Ian. “I shall act towards ye in good faith, that ye know. Dinna press me and ye’ll get every penny coming to ye.”

  “Well, Sir Ian, I’m a modern businessman,” declared Broderick. “I’ve little patience with outdated methods of mining and paying debts. Unless you can clear up your debts soon, I’ll have to take further steps.”

  “Ye’ve warned me,” said Sir Ian. “Now, good day to ye, sir.”

  None of the group in the hall had moved. They had listened in fascinated silence.

  The next instant, Mr. Broderick came striding toward them. He halted abruptly at the entrance to the hallway. Lloyd, bag over shoulder, went up to him.

  “You won’t have long to wait, Mr. Broderick,” Lloyd said. “You’ll be paid your money within a very short time, I guarantee it. So it won’t be necessary for you to take further steps to collect your money.”

  “That’s it, my lad!” shouted Old Jock encouragingly to Lloyd. “The Barclays have a silver mine. It’s bonanza!”

  “Is that true, Mr. Barclay?” Mr. Broderick asked, turning to Lloyd.

  “Every word of it,” replied Lloyd.

  The noise brought Sir Ian storming out of the library. “What in the world is going on here?” he demanded, irate and amazed.

  Before anyone else could answer, Mr. Broderick spoke up. “Sir Ian,” he said ruefully, “it appears you have a silver mine. A bonanza. And, as your nephew just told me, I’ll have the money you owe me very soon. My business definitely is over now. Good day, Sir Ian, Mr. Barclay.” Nodding to Meg and Cherry, he started toward the door. Then he turned around suddenly and went up to Little Joe Tweed.

  “Mr. Tweed, the other day when you and my pilot, Jerry Ives, came into the coffee shop in St. John’s, you said you wanted to make me a proposition. Well, I told you then that any proposition coming from you was bound to be crooked and I refused to let you say anything.

  “Afterward, my pilot told me you had run into him on the wharf and began talking about having a lot of native silver to sell. He couldn’t get rid of you until he had brought you to see me. Now I know where you must have got the silver. You smuggled it out of the Barclays’ mine.”

  With that, Mr. Broderick started once again toward the door, which Higgins hurried to open, and strode outside. Jerry Ives was waiting in one of the company “Bugs” to take his boss to the Balfour airfield and fly him back to St. John’s.

  For several minutes after Mr. Broderick’s departure, the Barclay hall was in complete turmoil, with Little Joe shouting that Sir Ian had always had it in for him, even when he, Little Joe, was working in the mines. And he was going to fight the Barclays in court. Little Joe’s men started to shout, too, and there was a great deal of shouting all round before Smith, the chauffeur, and Ramsay, the gardener, got the men in a car and took them off to the chief of police of the island.

  When they had gone, Sir Ian exclaimed, “Now, ye people, tell me what this is all about! A silver mine. Smugglers. Those sacks, ye’ve brought. Jock here with Tammie. The lot of ye all bedraggled. I’ve never seen the likes of such a hullabaloo.”

  “I’ll tell you, Uncle,” said Lloyd. He turned upon Cherry an admiring look that ignored tangled curls, the streaks of dirt, bedraggled clothes. And he said, “Since Miss Cherry Ames is the real heroine of this occasion, I think she should begin the story. It’s called ‘The Silver of the Mine.’ ”

  The story that Cherry began was taken up by Old Jock after they had all washed and cleaned up, and were sitting comfortably in the library, waiting for Higgins to announce luncheon.

  Old Jock told of becoming suspicious at first of something going on in the Old Mine and in Rogues’ Cave when the series of accidents occurred in No. 2 mine.

  “Every time we dug in the direction of the Old Mine,” Old Jock said, “something happened. And the same two men always were involved. At least, the other men reported carelessness or negligence by one or the other of these two miners. They were from St. John’s and I noticed they were very friendly with Little Joe Tweed. I began to wonder if those two miners had a reason for keeping us from extending Number Two mine any nearer the Old Mine.”

  Old Jock explained that a vein of ore, which had been opened, might very well extend into
the Old Mine. His vague suspicions led him to do a bit of investigating. Soon he discovered that the Heron was frequently offshore. Then he saw a heavily laden rowboat leaving Rogues’ Cave. Next he discovered that the Old Mine shaft had been repaired. He had gone down one day only to find two men on guard. He had never been able to get near the alcove where he had been found trussed up. In fact, he had no idea that a vein of silver had actually been found.

  Of course he had suspected that some valuable mineral might have been discovered. On the other hand, it was equally possible that the Old Mine and Rogues’ Cave were simply being used as a warehouse for smuggling anything of value.

  “Why didn’t ye let me know about this?” asked Sir Ian.

  “Ah, that I caudna, Ian,” Old Jock said. “I knew what terrible tension ye have been under for so long. And ye were a sick man. I had to try to clear everything up without involving ye in a lot of worry and anxiety.”

  Finally he had decided to stow away on the Heron. When and if a boat was sent into Rogues’ Cave to pick up cargo, Old Jock would manage to get aboard it, for the boat was large with a covered stern beneath which he could hide. He had taken particular note of this when he had watched it while pretending to be fishing all those times.

  He had asked Tammie to wait for him in the tower because it was nearest to Rogues’ Cave and perfectly safe. If Old Jock found Little Joe and his crew actually engaged in illegal activities, he would simply have Tammie telephone a message to his grandmother. Old Jock and his wife Janet had it all planned what she would tell the chief of police.

  “I thought Tammie could phone his grandma with out arousing Ramsay’s curiosity,” Old Jock explained. “But if I went in at night to use his phone, he’d wonder right away what it was all about. But Tammie phoning his grandma of a night—well, Ramsay would think right away that the boy was in trouble with his grandmother because he’d stayed out too late.

  “Well,” continued Old Jock, “the storm came and worked havoc with my plans.”

  He had got into the boat when it was put over the side of the Heron the night of the storm. In the excitement, his presence had not been discovered, and the big rowboat had made it to shore. Old Jock knew that he had to get to the tower and he had started out. Everything had been all right, so he thought. No one had seen him, and he had raced along the cliffs. Suddenly, as he reached the cliffs near the tower, he had been grabbed from behind. He had cried out in surprise and then with pain as he grappled with two men.

  “I did hear ye, then, Grandda!” cried Tammie. “Miss Cherry, we did hear Grandda that night.”

  “Yes, Tammie, I know now that we did.”

  “And I ran down from the tower,” continued Tammie. “Some men caught me and they took me down the Old Mine shaft. But I kicked and bit and scratched and I got away.”

  ‘Tammie dear,” said Meg, “do you mean to say that you found your way in the dark to the hidey-hole in Rogues’ Cave?”

  Tammie shook his head. “No, Miss Meg. One of the men was chasing me and he had a light. But I could dodge out of his way, even if he could run faster. He chased me almost as far as the cave, then I crouched down behind a pillar. He looked around, but he dinna find me, so he left. It wasn’t far from the hidey-hole, so I went in there and hid.”

  “You mean to say, Tammie,” Cherry said, “that you haven’t had anything to eat since that night!”

  Tammie smiled. “Of course not,” he answered. “Grandma gave me some sandwiches and apples to put in my coat pocket.”

  “I wish somebody would tell me, a poor medical man,” said Dr. Mac, “how Little Joe and his men found the vein of silver in the Old Mine.”

  “I’ll explain it,” said Sir Ian.

  Everyone looked at him, rather surprised that he should know the answer.

  “And Cherry knows,” added Sir Ian.

  “I do?” exclaimed Cherry.

  Sir Ian nodded. “Of course ye found out about the real silver mine first and the salted mine second. But Little Joe, like most of the Balfourians, knew the story about how one George Barclay years ago was fooled by a grafter who salted our old abandoned mine. Now when Little Joe was working for me, he used to spend a lot of time fishing out in Rogues’ Cave bay. He must have explored both the cave and the Old Mine from one end to the other. He discovered some of the salted stuff no doubt, then one day he discovered a rock that he knew was the real thing. And he went quietly to work.”

  “But I can’t see—of course, I’m just a medical man—” said Dr. Mac, “how the vein of silver could have been missed during all the years that the Old Mine was in operation.”

  “I can answer that,” said Lloyd. “You see, the Old Mine had veins of iron ore that ran north and south. When they were exhausted, the mine was abandoned. Yet just fifty feet away from one of the tunnels was this vein—this wonderfully rich vein—of native silver. The vein of silver begins in that alcove where we found Jock Cameron. It slopes gradually downward close to the tunnel in Rogues’ Cave and becomes submarine. There’s no telling how far out the vein runs beneath the ocean. Old Sir Ian, my grandfather, found some rocks of native silver in the cave walls without ever discovering the vein itself. That we know thanks to Cherry, who, with Tammie, found the journal and the pouch of silver in the tower room. Since my grandfather did not find the vein and surely had heard later of the cave’s having been ‘salted,’ he probably decided that he’d found some of the ‘salted’ silver.”

  Higgins came in. “Luncheon is served,” he announced.

  Sir Ian offered his arm to Cherry. “Allow me to take you in, Cherry. For ye are the guest of honor. The Old Mine is going to have a new name. The Balfour silver mine will be officially named the Cherry Ames Silver Mine.”

  “Three cheers for Cherry Ames!” shouted Tammie.

  “Yes, indeed, three cheers for Cherry,” cried Meg and Lloyd, Old Jock, and Dr. Mac.

  When they were all seated at the table, Cherry looked round at the friendly faces and her heart felt warm inside her.

  “Thank you all,” she said. “You have made me very happy. When I go back home, I shall take back with me wonderful memories of Balfour Island.”

  “What do you mean—when you go back home?” asked Meg. “Why, you have to stay ever so long. You have to be maid of honor at Douglas’s and my wedding. Isn’t that so, Dr. Douglas Mackenzie?’

  “Absolutely,” Dr. Mac agreed firmly.

  “Ah, she’ll make a fair maid of honor, won’t she, Ian?” asked Old Jock. “And she’ll bring us luck for sure with the silver mine.”

  “That she will, Jock,” said Sir Ian, smiling warmly at his old friend.

  In case you missed Cherry Ames, Department Store Nurse …

  CHAPTER I

  Home for Thanksgiving

  “THIS,” SAID CHERRY, “IS PRETTY WONDERFUL!” SHE BEAMED at the others around the festive table with its autumn fruits and flowers. Her family beamed back at her. “For once all four Ameses are together, and isn’t it nice?”

  “I feel a little selfish, not asking some of the relatives for Thanksgiving dinner,” Mrs. Ames remarked.

  “Just us is fine,” said Charlie. “Besides, that leaves us more turkey.”

  Mr. Ames, who could carve only when standing up, muttered that it was about time Charlie took over this chore. But when Charlie obligingly stood up to help, their father said, “Never mind, thanks. No chores for either of you kids when you’re only home for the holiday.”

  “I won’t make any speeches about what it’s worth to me to be here today,” Cherry said. “Even for a few days’ leave.”

  She had flown to Hilton, Illinois, from New York and this evening she would have to fly back again. If her old friend Ann Evans hadn’t had family matters to tend to, she might be able to stay at home longer. On the other hand, if Ann Evans Powell hadn’t needed someone in a hurry to substitute for her, Cherry would never have secured the nursing job in a New York department store, two weeks ago. And it was a fascinating job.


  Conversation lapsed for a few minutes as the Ames family concentrated on Edith Ames’s Thanksgiving feast.

  “Best bird we ever had,” said Mr. Ames happily.

  “Especially considering that I popped him into the oven and went off to church services with the rest of you.” Mrs. Ames added, “Cherry helped me with the dinner, you know. Honey, when you get married, remember that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

  “I don’t see Cherry getting married in any hurry,” Charlie said. “Not until she finds someone she likes better than nursing.”

  Cherry glanced up; she had been thinking how different her big, comfortable, leisurely home was from the high jinks at No. 9 Standish Street in Greenwich Village. She had merely intended to visit the Spencer Club girls for a few days; instead, she’d inherited Ann’s job, and stayed on with her old classmates from Spencer Nursing School.

  “All right, smarty,” she said to her brother. “Since you’re so knowing, I’ll surprise you and tell you there is someone in my romance department.”

  “A handsome young doctor? Couldn’t be anything else.”

  “Now don’t tease Cherry about her nursing,” their mother said gently. “Anyone who’s been as devoted as she has—”

  “Who’s the lucky young man?” Mr. Ames demanded.

  “Oh, Dad! It’s nothing much, really. I mean not so soon.” Cherry turned rosy to the roots of her dark curls. “Mostly I’m teasing Charlie. I understand he’s interested in someone himself.”

  “Won’t talk?” Charlie laughed. “Then neither will I.”

  “Who’s ready for second helpings?” Mrs. Ames asked.

  Cherry knew her mother’s tactful maneuver of pretending to be uninterested, and knew perfectly well that the subject would come up again later. She was glad, though, to have a respite from her brother’s teasing. When they had been small, growing up together, and then particularly in their teens, Charlie with his teasing had been the bane of her existence.