He stepped out onto the front porch and walked to the edge, looking around toward the back of the lodge. No one was in sight, and then he glanced out over the lake, dim in the light of the stars and the white border of the dark timbered sides. At once his eyes narrowed as he saw signs of movement on the ice sheet of the lake. Something bulky and black shot out onto the ice, and two figures leaped from it and began to push it ahead of them. As Mac stared without comprehension, another bulky object shot out from the bank onto the ice. The Ford boy gasped and clenched his fists.
“Our sleighs! Somebody is shoving them out onto the lake! Of all the——”
A voice, low-pitched and yet penetrating, reached him, coming in from the lake. “Don’t send the other one down until I tell you! I want to get this one out of the way first!”
A great light dawned upon Mac. “Carter Wolf and his gang!” he breathed, as he turned and raced softly back to the front door. “Running off with our sleighs! Going to hide them so we’ll have to hike home! We’ve got to put a stop to that!”
Throwing all caution to the winds, the twin rushed through the hall and flung himself into the living room, startling them all and very nearly knocking one girl over. His staring eyes and excited manner alarmed them all and caused particular apprehension on the part of those who knew anything about the history of Bluff Lodge.
“Listen!” he said, before anyone could speak. “Somebody is pushing our sleighs out on the ice and taking them off to hide them. I’m sure it is Carter Wolf and his bunch! If we don’t want to walk home tomorrow, we’d better get out there in a big hurry!”
A medley of cries of surprise and indignation came in answer to his rapid announcement, and everyone sprang up in consternation. Coach Jordan seized his coat and hat.
“Come on, boys,” he cried. “We’ll have something to say about this!” He turned to his wife. “You take care of the girls, Dorothy. Better not go out!”
The boys were ready, and like a pack of hornets they dashed out of the front door on the heels of Coach Jordan. Kent sprinted in the lead because he knew the country better, and he led them across the clearing toward the Bronson cabin. They had left the sleds in front of that building when they had tied the horses to the back-porch rail.
All of the sleighs were gone, and Mac led them down the slope toward where he had seen the sleighs slide out on the ice. They expected to find the vehicles scattered and the raiders gone. But to their astonishment they heard voices and saw a dark mass at the edge of the lake shore.
“Keep his head above water!” a voice cried out. “We’ll try to pull this sleigh out. Keep a stiff upper lip, Carter!”
“Get—get me out!” a voice gasped. “I told you not to let that sleigh go until I told you to!”
By this time the boys and the coach had arrived on the spot, and Mac’s flashlight showed the scene before them. One of the sleighs was turned sideways, and another had run into it and was partly sunk under the ice. Caught under a runner, and immersed in water to his chin, was Carter Wolf. The sleigh had broken the ice, and he had gone in with a splash. The sleigh runner had pushed in on top of him and was pressing against his chest, while his five friends worked frantically to hold his head above water and at the same time to pull the winter conveyance back out of the break in the ice.
“What happened here?” the coach cried, as they took in the scene.
“These f-f-fellows let a sleigh come down the hill b-be-before I had moved the other one out of the way,” Wolf answered, with chattering teeth. “The ice was thin here and——” In his effort to talk he slipped slightly and swallowed some icy water.
“Keep perfectly still,” the athletic coach commanded. “We’ll get you out.” He lay down flat on the ice and passed his gloved hands under Wolf’s armpits, feeling the shock of the cold water. It was a position of extreme peril for Coach Jordan if the ice broke away, but he did not allow his mind to dwell on the thought. “Now, the rest of you boys draw that sleigh up out of the hole.”
The girls had followed and now stood on the shore, silent except for a few low-voiced exclamations, their faces white as they saw what had happened. Mac sprang up the bank and pressed his flashlight into Mrs. Jordan’s hand.
“Keep this trained on us, please,” he requested, and then he was back with the others, lending a hand.
The sleigh was a big one and had considerable weight to it, but by their united efforts they managed to move it backward. Coach Jordan had considered using some of the horses, but time was pressing, and he knew that Wolf must be rescued as soon as possible. The boys pulled and tugged steadily, and the sleigh was finally drawn up on the bank and off of the ice.
“Now, two of you come here!” the coach called. “Only two, and come around in a circle back of me so as not to put too great a strain on the ice!”
Two of Wolf’s companions quickly and carefully circled around the gaping hole and made their way to the coach. His friends were quiet and obviously frightened by the recent events. Also, they were quite willing to help, and although somewhat afraid to trust the ice, they knelt beside the athletic instructor and helped him lift Carter Wolf out of the icy waters of Lake Arrowtip.
“Two of you boys race to the lodge and get some blankets,” Jordan directed.
Tim started on the jump. “Come on, Mac,” he cried, and his brother joined him at once.
Kent watched them run up the slope toward the lodge and then turned to look on as Coach Jordan and Wolf’s two friends guided him as he stumbled toward the shore.
“This business is over with, and there is nothing to worry about on that score,” Kent thought. “But Barry is still missing, and if all this excitement didn’t bring him back, there is something decidedly wrong!”
Unconscious of the events at the lodge, Barry crouched in the snow at the base of the quarry wall and gazed in the direction of the shed into which the figure in black had disappeared. His whole plan of action had to be changed, and for the time being he did not know what to do. He had planned to return to the tool house by way of the tunnel and tell his friends what he had discovered, but now it was highly dangerous to go back that way.
“The bale of hay sort of slides down on the trapdoor when you pull it down,” he thought. “Perhaps he won’t find out that someone has been in the passageway. I’m glad I closed all doors and walls behind me! But there may be footprints or something else to give me away. Gosh, this is a tough situation!”
The man in black was undoubtedly going to the lodge to start his series of annoyances, and Barry knew that these things would frighten the girls. Besides preventing that, he wanted more than anything else to take this prowler a captive, and if it was not done tonight, it might never be done. He fairly groaned as he saw the hopelessness of the situation.
“The boys may not get him, and if we lose him this time we’re sunk! If I had my hunting rifle I’d go back along the tunnel and call on him to surrender, but I haven’t a thing, and I imagine that the man is armed or at least able to put up a good fight. It would be suicide to follow him through the passageway. But I must get back!”
There were just two ways open to him: through the underground tunnel or by way of the woods. Of course the secret passage was the quickest route, but it was also the most dangerous. Barry decided not to risk it.
“It will take me a little longer to dash through the woods, but it will be a heap safer,” he reflected. “If I went through the tunnel and met the spook face to face, I’d never be able to get away, and I’ve simply got to get back and warn the people at the lodge!”
Rising from his stooping position, Barry began to run toward the shed. He did not like the idea of having to pass it, for the man might have found out that someone had been in the passage, and might have returned to investigate the vicinity of the quarry. There was a chance that the black shadow might step out of the shed just as he passed, and if that happened things would not be well for the boy. But there was no help for it, and he sprinted past, glancing sideways in some alarm and ready to increase his speed if need be. The door of the shed, however, remained closed, and no one challenged him as he sped past.
“Good luck!” he exulted, as he left the quarry and plunged into the woods. “I made that all right, and now if I can get to the lodge just about as soon as he does, everything will be all right.”
He did not take the exact path that he and Kent had taken on the night of the big storm, since they had gone in a roundabout way, but, relying on chance, he cut across the timber belt in a straight line, hoping that he was not making any mistake. Running was not easy because the snow was loose and the under snow had melted and then frozen again, making slippery footing. Occasionally his foot hit the root of a tree or a stone, and once he dropped on one knee and only saved himself from a complete fall by his outflung hands. But he struggled on, determined to reach the ones in the lodge as soon as possible.
When he reached the edge of the trees he saw the man in black sneaking from the tool house toward the rear porch of the lodge. At the same time something happened that caused the black shadow to stop and flatten himself against the wall of the house and made Barry halt in his run.
There was a sudden stir and some shouts, and then Coach Jordan and the other boys came running across the porch and jumped into the snow. Watching with bewildered eyes, Barry thought for a moment that they had somehow discovered the presence of the black shadow, but they did not come along the side of the lodge building, but dashed across the snow in the direction of the Bronson cabin. Barry followed them with his eyes, and then he noticed that the sleighs were gone. The situation began to dawn upon him.
“Somebody has taken the sleighs, and the boys are after them. Carter Wolf said he was going to do something to break up our party, and I guess he’ll do it in one way or another. Some of those sleighs are borrowed, and I hope they don’t smash them up in any way.”
He wondered what the man in black would do and once more looked in his direction. The prowler had been as completely surprised as Barry had been, and while the boys were running he remained perfectly still, pressed close against the wall. But now he had glided in swift retreat to the back porch, which afforded more shelter.
There was another exodus from the lodge as the girls followed the boys, accompanied by the leaping, barking Castor Oil. Jennie had been feeding him marshmallows, and he was completely her slave, so much so that, when Charlie had run out, his clumsy animal companion had watched him go without any desire to follow him. He was content to run with the girls, dashing and barking in a wild display of good spirits.
Barry could hear the girls talking, and he watched them disappear down the slope that led from the front of the Bronson cabin to the lake. Something had happened down there, and he was anxious to know what it was, but his duty now was to watch the man who had taken refuge on the back porch of the hunting lodge. No doubt his plans had been upset as had Barry’s, and it was interesting to see what he would do under the circumstances. Would he beat a retreat down the passageway and be lost to them, Barry wondered? Of course, if the man did, it would be much safer for them simply to get some officers of the law up there and try and trace the tunnel and find out where the man lived. But the thought did not satisfy him. He wanted to catch the prowler on the spot, so that he would have no loophole through which to escape when accused of causing the disturbances at Bluff Lodge.
Perhaps the shadow would go back into the tool house and wait until they got back, so as to produce rappings and noises. If this was his program, Barry felt sure that he could tackle the man on the spot and hold him until help arrived, but he would want that help to be pretty near at the time. No doubt the prowler was armed, as anyone engaged in a desperate business was likely to be, unless he had scorned to go armed against a group of high-school boys and girls.
Barry was not left long in doubt. The man had hesitated because he had been doing some rapid thinking, and at last he had made up his mind. Leaving the back porch, he ran hastily to the living-room window and peered in. Then he bent low to escape the light from the fire and the lamps and passed on to the front, where he crossed the porch and entered the front door.
Barry guessed his intention at once. The boys and girls had run out and left many things behind them, among other things some fairly good coats, and the pocketbooks of the girls were on the table. The black shadow had made up his mind to take them and get away, and perhaps to come back with his knocking pranks later on. Knowing the lodge as well as he seemed to, he would no doubt go out the back as they came in the front. Fate had put him in position to make a daring and completely successful raid.
Barry lost no time. Running his best, he left the timber and cut on a straight line for the lodge. He did not know what the boys were doing down there at the lake, and he had no time to go and find out. It was his supreme chance, and he had the feeling that if he lost out now, the ghostly prowler of Bluff Lodge would never be captured. He leaped to the porch and ran across it into the dark hall and finally jerked the door to the living room open, blinking in the light of the lamps as his eyes swept the interior of the place.
The tall man in the black overcoat, hat, and gloves whirled at the sound of his coming and turned two burning dark eyes upon him. But if Barry expected to see his face, he was disappointed. A black handkerchief obscured all of it except his eyes, which seemed to glare out above the covering. He had been feverishly picking up coats, hats, and pocketbooks and was in the act of taking a fur piece belonging to Mrs. Jordan when Barry burst into the room. As the boy faced him with resolute though pale face, the man pointed a black-gloved finger at him.
“Get out of here, boy!” he cried, hoarsely. “Get out or you’ll wish you had!”
Barry had made up his mind, on the way, that talking would be a waste of time. From the moment that he had opened the door he was preparing for the struggle that was sure to come. He had opened his Mackinaw coat while running, and now he dropped it to the floor behind him. Then, even while the man was pointing at him, he leaped across the floor at the black-clad figure.
He was tense and his throat was dry as he closed in on the intruder. His great fear was that the man would draw a weapon and shoot him down. But the truth of the matter was that he had engaged the man at exactly the right time. The outlaw had his arms full of coats and other things, and as Barry grappled with him he was vainly trying to shake a pocketbook loose, the chain of which had become twisted around his middle finger on his right hand. This incident, small as it was, gave Barry a fighting chance.
His arms went around the man, and with a twist the high-school boy swept his adversary off his feet. They went down with a resounding crash to the floor, and the black hat rolled off, revealing a rather well-shaped head with a high forehead. The black eyes seemed to look into Barry’s face for an instant in surprise.
Then their expression turned to one of deadly hate, and the battle was on. Only for a moment did the man accept his quick overthrow. In the twinkling of an eye he was fighting like a tiger, snarling exceedingly bad language as his eyes seemed to shoot out fire. Barry felt the muscles under the long black overcoat stiffen and become like steel, and the fingers that began to creep and grope for his throat were wiry and powerful. Reaching for one of the man’s hands, Barry was tossed forward, and his arm brushed the black handkerchief from his face. Only for an instant did he see the features of his enemy. The man was about forty years old, with a thin face and small mustache. Just now the veins on his forehead stood out, and his teeth showed slightly as he exerted himself to overcome the mystery hunter.
The man launched a blow at Barry which caught him off guard and caused him to pause in his efforts to pin down the hands of the prowler. The fist of the stranger landed just under Barry’s chin, and in the pain and surprise of it the boy hesitated. This was just what the man was waiting for. His long thin legs came up, one of them hooked over Barry’s neck, and a mighty tug sent the boy tumbling backward. Before the young mystery hunter could recover, the black shadow was upon him and strong fingers had gripped his throat, cutting off his wind instantly. Sudden fire and aching pain shot through the boy from Cloverfield.
“This is the end!” flashed through his bewildered mind. “I’m completely beaten!”
At that moment the twins came running in to get a blanket for Carter Wolf. They paused on the threshold and stared at the scene before them incredulously.
The Ford boys stood in the doorway and gazed at the unexpected sight before them like persons in a daze. The fingers of the man were clutching Barry’s throat, and one knee was planted with crushing force on his chest. The face which the stranger turned toward the twins was dark with rage and exertion, and his black eyes were fierce and defiant. So utterly unexpected was this scene to the two newcomers that they remained rooted to the spot until a choking cry burst from Barry, who was looking at them imploringly.
Then Mac suddenly came to life, and a growl of anger burst from him. “Come on, Tim,” he shouted. “This man is killing Barry!”
“Keep off!” snarled the man, half turning to face them. “I’m going away from here, and nobody is going to stop me! Keep away, or I’ll——”
The last part of his sentence was never finished. Mac hurled himself on the stranger, jerking his hands away from Barry’s throat. Tim joined him with vigor, and they fairly tore him off of their chum. He came up with a spring and wrapped his arms around the twins, twisting them roughly in an effort to break away. He realized that others were coming, and his one desire now was to thrust them aside and get away.
But the Ford boys had no intention of letting him go, and even Barry, weak and shaken as he was, returned to the fight to keep the man from escaping. Catching him around one leg, Barry held him tightly while the twins tried to break loose from his iron grip, at the same time striving to throw him. Back and forth they swayed and struggled, panting and straining. The center table was pushed to one side, and they were up against a wicker chair when the others came back.
They had been coming along slowly with Carter Wolf, and could not understand why the twins did not hasten with the blanket. The lodge prowler heard them coming, and the perspiration of a real fear now stood out on his head. Like a wild animal trapped, he looked around, and just as the incoming party filled the doorway and gazed in wonder at the struggle, he drew back his free foot and prepared to deal Barry a kick that would free the leg that the boy was holding. He felt that if he could once get that leg loose he could drag the twins into the hall leading to the lodge kitchen and somehow get rid of them.
But in raising his other foot he lost his balance, and he and the twins went down in a crashing heap, breaking the wicker chair to bits. Screams came from the girls, and the coach and Kent leaped forward to pull the combatants apart. Carter Wolf forgot his forlorn condition, and his friends stared in amazement. The coats and pocketbooks on the floor, the table back against the wall, and the general signs of confusion put them all at a loss.
“Here, what is going on here?” Coach Jordan asked, as he hauled the twins off of the fallen man. But to his astonishment Kent immediately threw himself on the stranger, holding his hands out in front of him by the wrists.
“Get a rope or a curtain cord or something,” Kent commanded, and Tim turned to look for something. But at the same moment the black shadow suddenly tried a dash for the hall door. Instantly all four boys, including the bruised Barry, leaped at him and bore him to the floor. The girls again screamed, and the coach looked bewildered. The captive addressed him.
“Call these fool boys off, Jordan! You know me!”
“Who is he?” Barry asked, finding his voice hoarse.
“Why, this is Felix Morganson, nephew of the lady who owns this lodge!” was the unexpected reply.
“What!” cried the mystery hunters, in chorus.
“Yes, I am, and when my aunt hears of this, you’ll hear a thing or two,” said Felix Morganson. But the boys were not at all worried.
“That’s all right,” said Kent, warmly. “But you are the ghost of this so-called haunted lodge.”
“Yes, he is,” nodded Barry. “I saw him come up here through a secret underground tunnel, and when I arrived on the scene in this room he was stealing our coats and everything else in sight.”
“That’s a lie!” denied the prisoner, his keen eyes shifting around.
“It isn’t, and if we hadn’t come along when we did, you would have just about killed Barry,” Mac declared. By this time Tim had found a rope, and Kent took it and tried to tie the wrists of the prisoner behind him. Felix Morganson looked at the coach.
“Jordan, are you going to stand for this?” he shouted. “Somebody will get into big trouble, and you are in charge of these boys!”
The coach hesitated, plainly at a loss, and Barry quickly took command of the situation. “It’s all right, Mr. Jordan, and I will assume full responsibility. My father has been trying for a long time to find the man who has been giving this lodge the reputation of being haunted, and Mr. Morganson is the one who did the rapping and thumping. We must not let him get away.”
Before the athletic director could speak, there was a knock on the door of the lodge. They looked at one another with wondering glances, and then Charlie Black hurried to the door. One of the girls swiftly wrapped a blanket around Carter Wolf and pushed him over in front of the fire. Kent and Barry kept their eyes on Morganson.
Charlie returned with strange companions. Two men with police stars on their coats came in, driving the French couple before them. One of the men held the Frenchman’s gun in the crook of his arm. Pierre and his wife looked sullen.
“Evening, folks!” nodded the stouter of the two men. “I’m Sheriff Paulson, and this is McHenry. We’ve been keepin’ watch on these Frenchies for a few days, and just now they was outside of this window, gettin’ ready to shoot the lamps out.” He looked at Felix Morganson with interest. “So here you are, Mr. Morganson! You ain’t in Canada or South America!”
“I think he’s been here all along, Sheriff,” Barry spoke up. “I found a secret tunnel from that quarry over there to the tool house out back. He is the one who has been giving the place a bad name.”
“Found a tunnel, did you?” the sheriff asked, looking at Barry with interest. “There used to be some counterfeiters operating around here, in an old cabin that stood where this lodge is, and I guess they was the ones used it. So Mr. Morganson has been hauntin’ his own aunt’s property! These Frenchies have been helpin’ him right along, and I guess squeezin’ plenty of money out of him.”
Barry suddenly remembered something. “Which one of you shot at Wolf and his friends the night they sat on the front porch?” he asked.
“I try scare heem away,” the Frenchman admitted.
After some further conversation the sheriff agreed to take Morganson to his aunt in Cloverfield. The would-be ghost of the lodge insisted upon seeing her, and so at last he and his French allies went off with the two county officials. Jordan, Bill Jefferson, and Tom Bailey hitched up a sleigh and drove them to Fox Point, where the sheriff took Morganson and the woodsman and his wife on to Cloverfield in his own conveyance.
The boys from Rake Island did not stay long after the sheriff left. Carter Wolf thanked everybody with averted eyes and went off with his friends, who dragged the sleighs back to the lake bank before disappearing. In the morning it was an easy task for the boys to pull them on up the slope and hitch up the horses.
Barry was somewhat mussed up and quite sore, but he was the hero of the hour. They sat around the living-room fire and listened with rapt attention while he told of his trip along the tunnel, and when Coach Jordan and the others came back, it had to be told all over again. They sat up until late in the night excitedly discussing the events of the evening.
“But we still do not know why Morganson pretended to be kidnaped and then hung around haunting the place,” Tim reminded them.
“I have an idea, from some things that he admitted to Sheriff Paulson, that he did it to knock down the value of the place and buy it from his aunt for a mere song,” spoke up the coach. “He always had a perfect passion for the lodge and was determined to have it by fair means or foul. I believe that he was trying to buy it through Brand Curry.”
In this Coach Jordan was correct. Felix Morganson had always had a great longing to own Bluff Lodge, and with Brand Curry and his French friends he had planned to ruin the reputation of the place and have his friend buy it very cheaply. Until Mrs. Morganson died, Brand Curry would continue to own the property, as far as outward appearances were concerned, and then Felix would take it over when his indulgent aunt passed away. So he had acted a false kidnaping part and had lived in a small cabin down in the hollow of a mountain spur close to the abandoned quarry.
With the capture of Felix Morganson, all mysteries were cleared up. He was the one who had taken their sled and who had dropped the snow behind the chimney upstairs in the hunting lodge. Having a key to the lodge, he entered it at will. The Frenchman and his wife had been writing to him for money, and as he did not send them any, they came in person to collect it and he joined them at Fox Point. Officers of the law had become suspicious and had trailed the French couple.
The young people at the lodge were eager to explore the counterfeiters’ tunnel that night, but Barry persuaded them to wait until the following day, and they finally consented. Early the next morning they traversed it and enjoyed the experience. When the story finally got out, many came to see it.
Felix Morganson had an interview with his aunt, and the general opinion was that she was too easy with him, for he disappeared shortly afterward, and no charges of any kind were ever placed against him. The French couple also vanished and were never seen in that part of the country again.
When the young people from the Cloverfield High School drove away from Bluff Lodge on the morning after the capture of the black shadow, they all agreed that it had been an exciting and enjoyable straw ride. Barry, Mac, Pearl, and Charlie rode on the foremost sleigh, and Kent and the twins were directly behind them. Castor Oil still clung to the girl who had satisfied his sweet tooth.
“Now you boys have certainly earned the name of ‘mystery hunters,’” Pearl said, as the sleigh glided on toward home. “We’re all proud of you.”
Mac grinned. “We’ve passed our first test in mysteries! Wait until the next one comes along!” Just as the sleigh entered the timber, Barry turned to look back at the log building. “So long, old haunted lodge!” he smiled. “You are going to be mighty lonesome for your friend the black shadow!”
THE END