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Random documents with unrelated
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“Well, I thought the colonel was foolish about not
carrying arms,” said Rowen, as the others breasted the
rise. “Anyway, what right had he to send us out to face
some kind of a desperate man, maybe a criminal,
without any way to protect ourselves? I wasn’t going to
shoot the man, I was going to scare him.”

“You succeeded in doing that without carrying out your

original plan,” Jordan returned, grimly. “Now, Rowen, I
want you to march yourself back to camp and put
yourself on report. You are under arrest.”

“Oh, sure, I could expect that from you!” retorted

Rowen, bitterly.

“Yes, you could, you or anyone else who had pulled a 147
stunt like that,” nodded Jordan. “It was direct and
defiant disobedience, and if we lose our chance to nab
the ghost it will be entirely your fault. Return to camp at
once, Rowen.”

“OK,” grumbled Rowen. He walked sullenly away.

“Now, if we are going to catch up with the boys we’ll

have to put all we have into it,” announced Jordan.

“Right!” said Don, as they started up the slope. “Feel

equal to a good stiff run?”

“Sure,” smiled Jordan. “Let’s hit a steady pace.”

Gaining the top of the rise they fell into a steady run
along the top, away from the camp and toward the
town on the far side of the Ridge. They were following a
general direction, which was not entirely blind, for far
ahead of them they heard a faint cracking sound that
seemed to be made by someone running recklessly.
Their route did not keep them long on the top of the
hill, for the ghost had taken to the deeper shelter of the
trees lower down and they plunged down the slope,
threading their way in between the trees.

They almost fell over a figure that was before them in

the woods. It was Cadet Owens, and he was sitting on a
rock, hugging his foot. His shoe was off and he was
breathing hard.

“Hurt yourself?” Jordan called. 148

“Not much,” gasped Owens. “Got my shoe caught in a

piece of rock and twisted my ankle. But I’ll be able to
walk. Keep on going straight ahead. We didn’t lose sight
of him.”

The other two plunged on, following a straight line.

They did not expect to overtake the others, for Terry
and Jim in particular were fast runners and they had
had a good start. All they could hope to do was to be in
at the finish if there was a finish, and with this in mind
they ran on.

“Rough going!” gasped Don, as they began to ascend a

second rolling hill.

“Nothing else but!” returned Jordan, running steadily.

On the top of the hill they found themselves in familiar

country. Far ahead of them was the tiny cabin of Peter
Vancouver and above them was the big, barnlike house
that they had observed at the time they first took the
hike to the old man’s place. Now they were somewhat
at a loss, and slowed up a bit in their running.
“We’ll have to be careful not to lose them now,” Don
said.

“There they are, right ahead of us,” announced Jordan,

“They must have lost him, because they are just
standing there.”

“They are right in front of that old house,” observed 149

Don, as they ran forward.

The others turned in glad surprise when the two ran up.

“Did you lose him?” Jordan called, as they joined them.

“He just bolted into that house,” Terry answered. “Think

we ought to go in after him?”

“Absolutely,” was the reply from the senior captain. “All

you fellows have your flashlights, haven’t you?”

They all had. Jordan led the way inside the gate and
they walked with great care toward the house.

“He was way ahead of us,” said Motley, “and just as

soon as he got to this old house he bolted right inside.
He may be armed, so we had better be careful.”

“Yes,” replied Jordan. “But if he is in the house we are

bound to get him. Be ready to put your light out if he
tries any shooting. And be careful of holes or anything
in the house.”

They snapped on their flashlights as they went up the 150

tottering old porch of what had once been a fine old
mansion. There were no windows in the place which
could boast of glass, and the front door had dropped
from its hinges and now lay sprawled out on the porch.
Jordan swung his light down on this prostrate door, and
they could see that it was covered with dirt and mud.
Newer marks on the door showed that someone had
recently entered the place.

“This is where he went, all right,” said Don. “On your

toes, everybody.”

Before entering the place they flashed brilliant beams of

light in every corner of the nearest room. This was a
large hall, with bare walls from which the plaster had
fallen, and a large staircase running up to a second
floor. Realizing that the ghost might leave the place by
some rear door while they prowled around the front
rooms, the cadets pushed the search with all possible
speed, their eyes and ears alert for any sign of someone
lurking. But a rapid search of a wide parlor, a square
dining room, and an enormous kitchen showed them
that at least no one was concealed downstairs.

“I guess our next move will be the upstairs,” Motley

suggested, and they took the wide steps toward the top
of the house.

Here there were a number of smaller rooms and it took

them some little time to look through all of them.
Nothing was to be found on the second floor, and with
more confidence they went to the third floor. This was a
big barnlike attic, and was obviously quite empty.

“Well, if he is in the place at all, it is the cellar,” decided 151

Jordan, when they had satisfied themselves that there
was no one in the upper part of the house. “I don’t
think he came upstairs at all, because I don’t see any
prints.”
There were some footprints in the lower hall but they
were lost on the comparatively bare stretches of floor.
The cellar, which extended only a short distance under
the house, was tenanted by spiders only, and no one
had been in there, judging by the huge webs that
stretched across the bottom of the stairway. It would
have been impossible for anyone to have gone that way
without breaking the webs, and they were all intact.

“Many thanks to the spiders,” acknowledged Terry,

lifting his hat. “They make it possible for us to keep
from going any deeper into this damp hole. The smell of
it is enough for me.”

“Just to make doubly sure,” said Jordan, “suppose we

go around to the back and see if there is an outside
cellar door? The ghost may have run out the back door
of the house and down a back stairs to the cellar. I’m
not going to give up the search until I have seen every
corner of the house.”

“While a couple of us are doing that I suggest that two

or three of us look in the closets on the first floor,” Don
advanced. “We missed them on our first round. I guess
a couple of us can hold the ghost in a tussle until the
others get on the spot.”

“All right,” said Jordan. “Jim and Motley, come with me. 152
The rest of you scatter. But I’m pretty sure that the
ghost ran right on through the house and escaped into
the woods.”

The others thought the same thing, but they scattered

to search. Terry and Cadet Ross began to look into the
closets on the first floor. Don wandered back into the
parlor and came to the front porch. From there he
looked off over the hills, seeing below him the lights in
Vancouver’s cabin.

“I wonder if old Mr. Vancouver is all right?” Don mused.

“Maybe he heard the noise we made and is alarmed. It
isn’t far to his house, and I think I’ll run down and see if
he is all right. Won’t take a second, and I’ll be right
back.”

153
 15
Dawning Light

With this kindly thought in mind Don jumped to the

ground and started off. But at that moment Terry
appeared in the black doorway.

“Hey, where are you going?” the redhead asked.

“Just going to run down and see if Mr. Vancouver is OK,”

called back Don. “Tell Jordan that I’ll be right back.”

“All right, kid,” Terry returned. “If you run into any
trouble, just sing out and we’ll come on the double.”

Terry turned back and was lost to sight while Don 154
resumed his journey down the slope. The cabin was not
far away and it took him but a moment to reach it. He
approached it from the back, hoping to get a look in one
of the windows, but they were too high and small in the
rear and so he passed around to the front of the cabin.
Noiselessly he crossed the porch and tapped on the
door, waiting for an answer.

Although he waited there was no response and he

wondered if the old man was asleep. Since there was a
light showing he rather doubted that and he knocked
again, a trifle louder. The light came out from under the
door and showed around the windows that opened off
the porch, but he was unable to peer in because heavy
black shades were pulled down to the bottom. The front
door was solid and he found no help in that direction.

“He must be asleep, in spite of the light,” Don decided.

“I’ll see if I can see anything through the side windows.”

He made his way around the side of the house and

found that he could see in a window there. A ragged
shade had been pulled down but the torn edges gave
him a limited view of the interior of the large room. It
was lighted by a single oil lamp, and in a far corner sat
the invalid in his chair, apparently fast asleep. At least
he was very quiet and Don was undecided.

“Don’t know as I ought to tap, but I’ll just see if he is 155

awake,” he decided, and tapped with his ring on the
glass in the window. The old man stirred, looked toward
the window, and wheeled his chair out of the shadow.

“Who is it?” he cried, in a shrill voice.

Don ran swiftly around the porch and placed his lips
near the door frame. “It is Don Mercer, one of the
cadets who visited you one afternoon,” he called. “May I
come in?”

“Sure, you may,” responded the man, instantly. There

was a soft sound, like the rolling of wheels, and the
catch on the door rattled. In an instant the door swung
open to show the frail figure in the chair. Don was
bathed in a yellow light that blinded him for a moment.

“Come right in,” invited Vancouver, spinning back from

the door. “Close the door and make yourself right at
home. What brings you up here at this hour?”
Don entered, closing the door back of him, and looked
around the room. A fire snapped in an open hearth and
the room was a bit too warm. Vancouver was wrapped
in a brown blanket, and he had wheeled himself back
into the shadows beyond the lamplight.

“I’ll have to apologize for my late call, Mr. Vancouver,” 156

laughed Don. “But a bunch of us chased the ghost up
this way and the rest of the boys are looking for him. I
saw your lights down here and just ran in to see if you
were all right, or if our noise had alarmed you.”

“You were chasing the ghost!” cried Vancouver, sharply.

“Go on!”

“Yes, we saw him walking along the Ridge and we gave

chase,” Don explained. “We trailed him into that old
house on the top of the hill and we went all through the
place but couldn’t find him. While the others were
looking I ran down here to see if you had heard
anything. Sorry to have bothered you.”

“Wasn’t any bother at all, and I’m grateful to you for

your thought,” responded Vancouver promptly. “I didn’t
hear anything because I’ve been sleeping here in the
chair. Your knock woke me up. So you saw the ghost,
eh? What did he look like?”

Don described the appearance of the ghost and the old

man appeared to be deeply interested.

“You say you fellows saw him. How’d you come to do

that? You ain’t always out of your camp so late as this,
be you?”

Feeling that he might some day help them to find the

ghost, Don related the story of the mysterious flagman,
the search on the hill and the revolver shot that Rowen
had fired off.

“Dear, too bad about that shot,” said the invalid, shaking 157
his head. “If it hadn’t been for that you would have
nailed this ghost, eh?”

“No doubt of it,” said Don, his attention attracted by

something that the man was doing. “Are you too hot,
Mr. Vancouver?”

The invalid had been passing a hand jerkily across his

forehead several times, and each time after the act he
wiped a somewhat dampened hand on the brown cover.
Although it was quite warm in the place it did not seem
to be hot enough to make a man sweat, unless Mr.
Vancouver was the kind who perspired easily. It seemed
to Don that the old man was breathing pretty heavily for
one who had sat in a wheel chair all evening, and in the
boy’s brain a faint idea stirred. He rejected it, at first,
but like a gentle knocking it persisted.

“Oh, no, no,” hastily interposed the cripple. “Do you feel
too warm?”

“No, but I thought perhaps you might be a little hot,

and I’d open a window or the door for you,” responded
Don, seating himself on the edge of the table.

“No, you needn’t do that,” said the man, running one

thumb absently along the edge of the nearest wheel.
The glance that he fixed on the cadet’s face was keen
and almost fierce. “I’m so old I got to keep warm,
because I don’t move around enough.”

“I see,” nodded Don. He had intended to leave 158

immediately, but found himself suddenly possessed with
a desire to remain. “Well, as I was telling you, we
chased that ghost into the old house above you. Know
anything about the place?”

At the same time Don began a rigid inspection of his

host. Most of the man was covered up, but his feet
showed under the blanket. Only the toes could be seen,
but there was something about them that attracted his
attention. They were clothed in socks which seemed to
be damp, and he wondered if the man always went
without shoes.

Vancouver knew the place well. “They used to call that

the haunted house, around here,” he chuckled. “This
Ridge is a pretty spooky place, the more you hear of it.
You don’t know who it was that sent you that flag
message, eh?”

“Haven’t the least idea,” answered Don. “All of the

cadets were in camp at the time, and I don’t know who
around here knows how to use signal flags. And who
would know that the ghost was going to walk?”

“You beat me there,” Vancouver said, shaking his head.

“That’s a hard nut to crack. Maybe the ghost went in for
a little advertising.”

“I doubt it, Mr. Vancouver,” said Don, noting that the fire 159
was consuming fresh wood which couldn’t have been
put there an hour ago. “If you had seen the ghost run
you’d have known that the thing was utterly unexpected
to him. It is a pretty tough problem.”

“I guess most ghost doings are tough problems,”

grinned the old man.
“I guess so,” Don smiled. “Nice fire you have there. We
don’t see many open hearth fires any more. Have you
had it going all evening?”

“Yep, I generally have it going every evening,”

responded the man, somewhat absently.

“Well, I’ll have to be running along, Mr. Vancouver,” he

said, glancing at his watch. “I don’t want to keep you at
an hour like this. I just wanted to run down and see if
we had alarmed you, but as long as we haven’t, why, I’ll
be moving.”

“I didn’t hear a sound, so I’m all right. It was real nice

of you to drop down to see if I was all right, and I sure
appreciate that. An old cripple like me doesn’t get much
chance to see the world or talk with anyone, so it did
me good to have you stop in.”

“That’s fine,” replied Don, his eyes busy at the task of 160
looking around the room in a guarded manner. “Say, Mr.
Vancouver, as I told you before, we did quite a bit of
running tonight. And gee, I’m just about burning up
with thirst. I’m thinking with pleasure that you have
some of the finest water I ever tasted here.”

“I’ll get you a drink in just a shake,” promised the man,

seizing his wheel.

“Don’t bother. Can’t I get it myself?” asked Don, wishing

to gain a look at the kitchen.

“Won’t take me a second,” said the other, and spun

around in his chair, aiming at the doorway that led into
the back room. With the speed and accuracy of an
arrow he passed through it and was gone.
And almost immediately Don thanked his lucky stars
that he had not been permitted to go out into the other
room himself. For something that had been hidden by
the chair of the cripple was now disclosed. In the corner
rested a pair of shoes, and these shoes were covered
with mud!

Not the slightest doubt about it. Red and black mud,
soft and wet, a fact that he could determine without
touching them. A band of light from the lamp shone on
them and revealed the evidence plainly. That explained
the man’s damp socks. Yet Don’s brain was unable to
fully take it all in.

“Is it possible that this man is not an invalid after all? Or

has the real ghost been here, and maybe is hiding here
right now? That may be possible.”

But certain things pointed an unerring hand at his host. 161

His brow was moist, as of one who had been running.
His breath had been rapid, and now his muddy shoes
betrayed him. For not an instant longer did Don doubt
that the man could walk and run, and the crippled state
was nothing but a ruse.

“No wonder he pumped me about who it was that sent

the wigwag,” he thought, as the sound of water was
heard from the kitchen pump. “While I have been sitting
here telling him everything he has been measuring me,
wondering if I have been playing some sort of a game
with him. Maybe I’m lucky that he didn’t jump on me
suddenly, but I believe that my straightforward story
has convinced him that I don’t know anything. Nothing
dumb about him, evidently! My story about running
down to see if he is all right must sound pretty flat,
though.”
The man wheeled into the room rapidly and in his hand
he had a tall glass of water. Don drank it eagerly,
keeping a wary eye on the old man, but nothing out of
the way happened and he thanked him for the water.

“Don’t mention it,” smiled the man. “Come up again and

see me, won’t you?”

“I surely will,” promised Don, as he opened the door.

“Good night, sir.”

“Good night, boy, good night,” was the bright and 162
cheery response, as Don went out.

“If he isn’t a cripple, he certainly knows how to run that

chair of his,” Don decided, as he ran up the hill.

He found that the others were waiting for him

impatiently. “Golly, we thought that you were lost,” said
Jordan, impatiently.

“No, just talking with Mr. Vancouver,” said Don. “Didn’t

have any luck, eh?”

“Not a bit,” returned the senior captain. “Well, I suppose

we may as well head in.”

It did not take them long to make camp, where they

found the others awaiting them. Jordan reported to the
colonel, who had heard the shot and who knew from
Rowen’s own report what had happened. Howes was
ordered to blow the bugle as a sign of recall, and before
very long all of the groups had returned.

“Too bad we lost him,” said the colonel, shaking his

head. “I believe it was entirely due to Mr. Rowen’s
disobedience. I have ordered him into permanent arrest,
until I decide what to do with him. Sound taps, Mr.
Howes.”

Don thought deeply before falling asleep. “I guess I’ll 163

keep things to myself, at least for a time,” he decided.
“It all sounds so farfetched that I hate to drag out my
discoveries. But that man was surely out of his chair
and out of his house this night! Now that I have
something definite to work on something tangible may
come up before long. The next thing we had better do
is to find out who that mysterious flagman was.”

164
 16
Listening In

The following day the camp was vibrant with excitement

as the cadets relived the events of the night before.
Everyone, of course, lamented the fact that Rowen had
unwisely frightened the ghost away, but the boys
realized that there was nothing to do but wait for the
ghost to walk again.

During the afternoon some of the cadets noticed a

stranger enter the colonel’s tent. The caller stayed a
short time and then left, taking the road which led to
Rideway. Later Jordan, Don and Jim were ordered to the
colonel’s tent. Having seen the visitor, they wondered if
their summons was in any way connected with him.

“Come in, come in,” invited the colonel as the boys 165
approached his quarters. “I have a job for you to do,
that is, if you are willing.”

“Anything you say, Colonel,” Don replied, speaking for

the group.

“Perhaps you noticed that I had a visitor this afternoon.”

He looked at the three cadets before him expectantly
and they nodded to affirm this. “That was Mr.
Farnsworth, the superintendent of the local telephone
exchange in Rideway. It seems that his night operator
was suddenly taken ill this morning and will be unable
to go on duty tonight. He has no extra help at this time
and thought perhaps one of the cadets knew how to
operate a switchboard.”

“I have run our switchboard at school a few times,” said

Jim, hesitantly. “However, I imagine this one in Rideway
is far more complicated.”

“Splendid!” said the colonel. “I thought I remembered

correctly that you had, Jim. You will have no trouble at
all with this local exchange. Mr. Farnsworth assured me
that it was a simple board, else he would not have
approached me. You see, this exchange is a small one
and does not require a complicated system such as
those one finds in large cities.”

“Well, I’ll do my best, sir,” promised Jim.

“I’m sure of that. Now, Don and Jordan, I want you to 166
accompany Jim. You are to be at the exchange from
midnight until seven o’clock, so perhaps three of you
can keep one another awake for that period. Mr.
Farnsworth will meet you there and show you what to
do. Now, I suggest that you try to get some sleep
before midnight. You will be awakened at the proper
time and when you get to Rideway go to the building on
the left of the town hall.

“You never can tell,” the colonel continued with a wink,

“but what this job may be far from dull. Remember that
you are still members of the Ghost Patrol. Be alert!”

The three lucky cadets went immediately to their tents

to talk over the piece of good news. They ate supper
and after an hour turned in to sleep. Terry wailed at the
fate that had left him out of it.
“Some guys have all the luck,” he whined in a voice
imitating Dick Rowen’s. “I can’t stand these Mercer
boys, anyway. Besides, I’ve got the biggest ears and the
colonel should have sent me.”

The Officer of the Guard awakened the boys at the 167

proper hour and they left the camp, passing the sentries
safely. It did not take them long to cross the Ridge and
strike down into Rideway. They found the streets totally
deserted. Alongside the town hall they found the proper
building and at their knock they were admitted by Mr.
Farnsworth. He wore a telephone headset, consisting of
one phone, a curved mouthpiece that fastened to the
soundbox which rested on his chest, and a long,
detachable plug.

He showed them the switchboard bearing scores of

small white buttons that lighted up when the calls came
in, and rows of multiple holes into which the plugs were
inserted when calls were connected. He explained
things in brief detail to them.

“This is what they call a manual board, as against a dial

board,” he said. “We have five girls working here in the
daytime, but one operator is sufficient at night. Now,
unless you have some questions, I’ll be leaving.”

“I think I understand this sort of system,” answered Jim

promptly. “It shouldn’t cause us any trouble.”

Thus assured, Mr. Farnsworth left. Then the three boys

got a fair insight into the night telephone operator’s job.
There was complete silence until two-thirty when a call
was received. Jim handled it expertly. There were few
calls after that and the time went by much too slowly
for the three active boys.
“This certainly is a lonely job,” remarked Jordan, around 168
a quarter after three.

“Yes, but I imagine you get used to it after a while,”

answered Don.

Just at that moment the switchboard buzzed twice.

“Hmm, long distance,” murmured Jim. “Mr. Farnsworth
mentioned that two short rings was the signal for a
long-distance call.”

He plugged in below the lighted signal. At his answer a

dull voice said, “Let me have Main 7200.”

Jordan was about to speak when Jim sat bolt upright

and signaled to the others to be silent. His eyes grew as
big as saucers as he listened intently. Don and Jordan
were mystified by his actions, but they said not a word.
It seemed an interminable length of time before Jim
closed the key and plugged into another line.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” Don questioned his

brother eagerly.

“I’ll tell you all about it in a minute. I’ve got to do

something first!”

The others listened impatiently while Jim held a short

conversation with someone who seemed to be another
operator. At last Jim removed the headset and turned to
his companions.

“That was a call to the drugstore and it was about the

ghost!” Jim said breathlessly.

“What!” exclaimed Don and Jordan together. 169

“I was just on the point of closing the key, after making
sure that the connection was correct, when I heard
someone say, ‘Those cadets chased the ghost into the
old Furmen house and very nearly caught him.’ That’s
when I motioned to you not to talk. Then the other
voice said, ‘Those meddling cadets again, was it?’ and
the person at the drugstore, who gave his name as
Rose, answered, Yes, Mr. Maul.’”

“Maul!” shouted Don. “Why, that’s the name of the

family the Hydes had a feud with!”

“Then there is one of them still alive,” Jordan said

thoughtfully.

“That’s the same conclusion I reached,” Jim said. “I just

checked the origin of the call with the operator and she
told me it was from a pay station in Crossland.”

“Golly! Wait until the colonel hears about this. I’ll bet he
never dreamed we would really come up with
something tonight,” Jordan said excitedly.

“But I haven’t told you everything,” Jim interrupted.

“The man named Maul gave the clerk instructions to
relay to the ghost. He is to go to him this afternoon and
tell him to start prowling on the far side of the Ridge. In
about a week he said he would send orders referring to
another attempt to burn the Hydes out. His final word
was, ‘First I will get rid of those schoolboy soldiers.’”

“That means another chance to catch the ghost!” 170

exclaimed Jordan. “Say, we ought to trail that clerk
when he goes out this afternoon.”

“And I’ll tell you just where he will go, too,” said Don
calmly. He had been unusually quiet during the
conversation between his brother and Jordan, because
he had been thinking things out.

“Where?” the others demanded.

“To the cabin of Peter Vancouver,” returned Don.

“Why to him?” asked Jordan. “He’s lame and can’t get

about.”

“My best uniform that he isn’t,” Don laughed. “Let me

tell you what happened the night we chased the ghost.”
With that he related the story of his visit to Vancouver’s
cabin. “I’m positive that he had been out that night, and
I don’t think for a minute that he is an invalid at all.”

“Without arousing suspicion, let’s try to find out from Mr.

Farnsworth how long the man has been living in that
cabin,” Jim suggested.

The others agreed to the idea and waited impatiently

for seven o’clock to come. At last it did and Mr.
Farnsworth was prompt.

He thanked them earnestly and inquired whether they 171

had had any difficulties. Jim assured him he had not. Mr.
Farnsworth was a friendly person and was very
interested in the cadets’ activities. He kept the boys
there for a few minutes, asking them questions
concerning their camp life.

The superintendent’s interest enabled the boys to

describe their hikes through the countryside and, in
passing, Jim told him of their visit to Peter Vancouver.
He then casually asked Mr. Farnsworth if Vancouver was
a native of the region.
“Oh, no,” was the man’s reply. “He moved here only a
few years ago. No one knows much about him. He
keeps to himself, though of course that’s natural since
he’s confined to a wheelchair.”

After a few minutes of further conversation the cadets

departed.

They struck the trail for camp at a rapid pace.

“Good golly, I am hungry,” sighed Jim, as they topped

the rise.

“I guess we all are,” replied Jordan. “But we have made

splendid progress in the last few hours. What a rare
piece of luck that you listened in on that call, Jim!”

They arrived in camp while drill was going on and

reported at once to the colonel. He was interested and
pleased beyond measure.

“That is splendid work, boys,” he approved, heartily. 172

“Now, some of you must do some active trailing. I
suppose you three feel equal to the observation task,
don’t you?”

“We will after we have had some breakfast, sir,” Don

smiled back.

“Of course. Report to the mess tent at once. Pack

something up to take with you and then get your field
glasses and find a post from which you can watch the
cabin of this supposed cripple. I compliment you on
your fine powers of observation regarding this Peter
Vancouver, Don.”
“Thank you, sir,” acknowledged Don. “It is a clever
game all the way through, and only lucky accidents
have put us in touch with the truth.”

“Yes, the kind of accidents that you boys always seem

to have,” said the colonel, dryly. “Well, run along to your
breakfast.”

“We’re having all the fun,” grinned Jim, as they hiked

once more to the top of the Ridge a short time later.
“Won’t old redhead pull his hair out in handfuls when he
hears of this!”

A small clump of bushes on a high hill gave them a

good view of Vancouver’s cabin when sighted through
the glasses and there was no danger that they would be
seen in turn. The morning passed without any sign of
anything moving and they ate their lunch under a hot
sun.

“He surely ought to show up this afternoon,” Jordan

thought.

“If he waits until nightfall we’re licked,” said Jim. 173

The afternoon dragged until four o’clock, and then

Jordan uttered an exclamation. He had his glasses
pointed at the cabin.

“Here he comes now,” he announced, and the others

raised their glasses. Sure enough, a man was wending
his way up the slope, straight for Vancouver’s cabin, and
Jim called their attention to a white package that he had
in his hand.

The clerk stayed in the cabin for an hour and departed

at the end of that time. When he had gone, Jordan
closed his glass.

“That makes the case complete,” he announced. “Now

we can go back and report to the colonel. Who wants to
bet that I don’t stay up until taps tonight?”

“Not I,” returned Jim, promptly, “I’m so dead on my feet

right now that I won’t know whether you do or not!”

174
 17
Breaking Up Hydes’ Party

On the following morning Colonel Morrell had an early

and unexpected visitor. He was a fairly good-looking
young man, with a handsome smile and a confident air.
Without introducing himself he asked the colonel of the
cadet corps an astonishing question.

“Well, what luck did you have with the ghost the other
night?” the man inquired with a pleasant smile.

There was a pause before the colonel answered him.

“Unfortunately we missed him after a considerable
chase. Are you the one who—?”

“Yes, I sent you the wigwag,” replied the young man. “I 175
am a scoutmaster over in Rideway and that’s how I
happen to know the signals. I’ve been wanting to put
this stupid ghost out of business and saw this
opportunity to do it.”

“How did you come to find out that the ghost was going
to walk, Mr.—?” began the colonel.

“My name is Benson,” explained the other. “Between

1:00 A.M. and 8:00 A.M. I am employed as a telephone
operator on the local switchboard. I was suddenly taken
ill the other day or I would have been up to see you
sooner.”
“Oh, so you’re the night operator. Some of our boys
filled in for you in your absence.”

“Mr. Farnsworth has told me about that. It was very kind

of you, sir.”

“It is good training for our boys. It makes them realize

their responsibility as citizens to help in any sort of
emergency which may arise, I believe. But tell me why
you warned us of the ghost’s activities.”

“It was really an accident that I heard a conversation 176

that morning which gave me the information. There was
a long-distance telephone call made to our local
drugstore. I connected the line and rang. Then,
forgetting to close my key more than anything else, I
listened while the receiver was picked up at the
drugstore. I was pretty sleepy at the time, but I was
knocked wide awake by hearing the party on the far end
of the wire say: ‘What are the latest activities, Rose? I
know about the failure to burn Hyde’s farm. Has the
ghost walked since?’ That staggered me and I listened
closely to what followed.”

Colonel Morrell leaned forward in his chair. The story of

the young scout leader was of great interest to him.

Mr. Benson continued. “The voice at the other end was

a low, cold sort of voice, and I was trying to catch a
clue from it, hoping that the clerk would use a name,
but he didn’t. He just kept using the title Sir. This voice
at the other end said: ‘I know all about those cadets
interfering with the activities of the ghost, and I will
attend to them personally very soon. When I do, they
won’t have so much as a tent left to them or a single
horse! But I don’t want the ghost to stay in just because
of those soldiers. Tell him to get moving again, and
make it his business not to get caught.’ It was that last
statement which caused me to get word to you.”

“And a good thing it was, too,” replied Colonel Morrell.

He then proceeded to tell Mr. Benson the facts that the
boys had uncovered. When he had finished he said,
“Rest assured that we will get to the bottom of this
unpleasant business. I will keep you informed of any
further developments, too.”

As soon as he left, Colonel Morrell called the Mercers 177

and Jordan together for a conference.

“It seems you are not the only person guilty of listening
in on telephone conversations, Jim,” he began. Then he
told them of Mr. Benson’s visit. “Now I think the next
step is to engage a good private detective and see if we
can’t have this man Maul located in Crossland. If we
merely arrest the paid ghost and don’t get the big man
higher up we will accomplish nothing.”

At the evening meal in the mess tent the colonel

addressed his corps.

“Boys, some time ago we pledged ourselves to run

down this ghost business that is troubling the
inhabitants of the Ridge and to date we have made
quite a bit of progress, even more than most of you
know. In due time full details will be related to you, but
at present it seems best to keep things quiet. But this
much I wish to tell you: we have learned that this
‘ghost’ is a hired professional who is planning to wipe
out our camp. I do not know just how he proposes to
do it, whether by fire or mob violence, but it is planned,
and according to the information secured the blow will
come soon. I am therefore doubling the number of
sentries beginning with tonight. Your orders are to
alarm the camp instantly if anything out of the ordinary
is seen or heard. The Officers of the Guard will exercise
unwavering care and conduct rigid inspection of posts.”

The colonel resumed his seat and there was a buzz of 178
excitement and indignation. The cadets welcomed the
prospect for some actual and dangerous service, and
the prospect of a mob fight was especially alluring. But
the feeling was that any move made against them
would be in the nature of a stealthy act, and all of the
cadets determined to brace themselves for the stern
business at hand.

“If any ghost tries to touch the horses I’ll shoot him on
sight,” growled Thompson, who loved the animals.

“All I hope is that they rush the camp with a gang,”

Terry said. “Wouldn’t that be a swell scrap! Imagine the
corps meeting a crowd of roughnecks in a hand-to-hand
battle. That would be something to write about!”

“If you were able to write, Redhead,” said a cadet near

by.

“Gee, if the battalion couldn’t lick any bunch recruited

around here we ought to go back to the school and play
tennis all the rest of our lives,” snorted Terry, who was
not good at the sport and therefore did not like it.

“I’m afraid that the attack won’t be an open one,” Don 179
told them. “More likely to be something shady.”

“You ought to know, Mercer,” said Motley. “Wish I had

been on that switchboard the other night.”
That night the number of guards was doubled and the
greatest care was exercised. The Officers of the Guard
visited posts at frequent intervals and checked up on
the sentries. But the night went by without anything out
of the ordinary happening. In the morning Benson
brought news.

“That ghost showed up in South Plains last night,” he

reported. “Some farmers saw him over that way. That is
some distance from here and the ghost is following
orders to the letter. I didn’t hear a thing last night,
though I listened to every conversation. Tonight he may
come back this way. But I don’t know whether you will
have to fear him or not, for if you’ll remember Maul
promised to do the job himself.”

“We’ll be on the lookout for both of them,” promised the

colonel.

That afternoon was a warm one and the boys went 180
swimming. Terry had developed a slight summer cold
and so he did not go. He was sitting in front of the tent
on a box whittling a piece of wood industriously. The
camp was quiet and the shouts of the cadets in the
swimming hole drifted to his ears.

There was a voice near Terry and he looked up. The

little Carson boy was approaching down the company
street from the direction of the woods and Terry waved
to him.

“Hi, Jimmie,” greeted Terry. “How are you today?”

“OK, Terry,” smiled the boy. “Why aren’t you in

swimming?”
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