"Oh, I won't mind that—if I can get out of this hole."

"Might as well take it as easy as you can," went on Will. "That's the ticket. Be sure your knots are firm."

"Yes, don't tie granny ones the way I did the night the Gem got adrift," murmured Grace.

The rope was soon fast to the wagon and backed-up auto.

"Go ahead slowly," cautioned Will. "We don't know what will give way first, the horse or the wagon. Take it easy, Mollie."

Slowly the auto started. There came a strain on the rope. There was a creaking to the old vehicle, and then it slowly began to emerge from the mud. The old horse, who had almost gone to sleep, roused up at this strange activity, and was literally forced to stir out of his tracks. In a few seconds the wagon was on the firm road, the auto having pulled it in a diagonal direction from the mud-hole.

"Thanks, ever so much!" exclaimed Jimmie. "I'm sure I can't thank you enough. If ever you get stuck——"

"You'll pull us out!" finished Mollie.

"Not until Stamp is better able to do it," the boy answered with a laugh. "But I'll do all I can."

"And so you didn't like Shadow Valley?" asked Will, as the boy made ready to proceed on his way.

"No, it's too gloomy for me. Hardly anyone lives there."

"Did you see that big mansion up there?" asked Grace.

"The one that rich man built, you mean? Yes, I passed near it a while ago. It's only about three miles from here. The grounds are pretty well in ruins now, but the house is good."

"See anything strange about it?" asked Will.

"Strange? What do you mean?"

"Oh, well, I mean—er—any tramps in it—or anything like that?"

"No, not a thing," and Jimmie looked curiously at his questioner. "Well, I must be going. No more muddy roads for me!"

The auto party took their places again, Betty succeeding Mollie at the wheel, and Will being promised a chance later. Then they started off.

"Where are you going?" asked Grace, as Betty turned up a road on which they seldom journeyed. "This doesn't take us anywhere in particular."

"It goes to Shadow Valley," answered Betty.

"Are—are you going there?" gasped Amy.

"Just to get a glimpse of it," was the reply. "Surely you're not afraid—in broad daylight."

"And with us along?" demanded Will, heroically. "Shame!"

"Oh, well——" began Amy, but she did not finish.

"This side road leads right into the valley," said Mollie, a little later.

"Then we'll take it," decided Betty, and she swung the car about. A little later they were looking down from a height into the strange valley.

One end—that nearest them—was laid out in a number of small farms, on which were substantial houses. But the other end, where "Kenyon's Folly" had been built, was in the narrower part, and was almost deserted as regards residences. This section of the valley was narrower, the hills—almost mountains—rose high on either side, hemming it in. This produced deep shadows early and late in the day, and gave the valley its name.

"There's the ghost house!" said Will, in a low voice, pointing toward a mansion, perched on one of the side hills, on a natural ledge. "I can see the ghost now!"

"Oh!" screamed Amy.

At that moment from the dense underbrush near the auto there came a loud cry, and some one fairly tumbled down a little declivity into the road—the figure of an old man with long, white hair.



CHAPTER X

OFF ON THE TOUR

Grace and Amy were in each other's arms. Betty admitted afterward that she wished she had some one to lean on, but she gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles went white with the strain. Mollie clutched the sides of the seat in a grip of something like despair. The boys looked wonderingly at one another, and then at the strange figure that had tumbled out of the bushes.

"Oh, it's the hair-tonic peddler!" exclaimed Mollie a moment later, as she got a glimpse of the man. He had risen and was brushing the dust off his rusty black suit.

"The who?" asked Will.

"A man who sells hair-tonic," explained Betty in a low voice, for the stranger was looking at them now.

"At your service, ladies and gentlemen!" exclaimed the proprietor of Bennington's Hair-Tonic. "I see you remember me," and he smirked at the girls—that hard, and rather cruel, look never leaving his face, even when he smiled.

"Oh, yes, we remember you," replied Betty, coolly. She now had control of her nerves.

"Don't talk to him too much," advised Allen, in a low voice. "You never can tell who these fellows are, nor what their game is."

"Ob, he's harmless," replied Betty, in a return whisper. "We met him on the road one day, and supplied a bolt that he had lost from his wagon."

"All the same," insisted Will, "he might——"

He was interrupted by Mollie, who asked:

"Where is your wagon?"

"I left it in a secure place," replied the hair tonic man.

"What were you doing up there?" asked Allen, nodding in the direction whence the man had taken his tumble.

"That was an accident," replied Mr. Bennington, who continued to dust his clothes, which seemed to have accumulated considerable of the dirt of the road. "I was up on the hillside gathering the herbs I use in my tonic, when my foot slipped. I heard the auto coming, and I was afraid I might roll under it. That is why I yelled."

"Oh," said Mollie, faintly. "Well, you got on our nerves, Mr. Bennington."

"I am sorry I have nothing for nerves," and the fellow bowed, rather mockingly, it seemed. "I am a specialist in hair. If you would like any of my tonic—something to make your locks like mine," and he shook his own with an air of pride, "why," he resumed, "I am at your service!" Again he bowed.

"I don't think we care for any," answered Allen, who seemed to have, in common with the other boys, taken a dislike to the peddler. "Suppose we go on, Betty."

"Very well," replied the Little Captain at the wheel, as she advanced the gasoline lever. The motor had not ceased running.

"Then I can't sell you any of my Restorer?" called Mr. Bennington, as Betty slowly let in the clutch.

"No," answered Allen, and he glanced back in time to note the fellow making an elaborate bow, his white locks falling about his head in a "shower."

"I don't like him," Frank announced, when they were out of the man's hearing.

"Nor I," added Will.

"Why not? He seems harmless enough," spoke Amy. "Poor man! he probably has a hard time making a living."

"Don't you believe it!" declared Will. "To my way of thinking, he's a faker. He looked plump and well-fed enough. I warrant you he has no lack of good food. Those fellows put about ten cents worth of alcohol in a bottle, a little perfume and some water, and sell it for a dollar as hair-tonic."

"Well, really some of that stuff must be awful!" exclaimed Grace. "I'm glad I never use it."

"You never have to—nature was good to you," murmured Frank in her ear, whereat Grace blushed.

Mollie glanced back toward Shadow Valley. The gloom over it was increasing, and at the far end could just be discerned the deserted mansion—the remnant of a rich man's folly. About that, too, the shadows seemed to gather, dark and foreboding.

"Ugh! That place gives me the creeps!" Mollie muttered. And against the dusky background of the valley and the old mansion she beheld the figure of the rather mysterious peddler. His white locks stood out in strange contrast to the surrounding darkness, and his black clothes.

"It certainly looks as though it might be haunted," agreed Betty. "Poor Mr. Lagg! I'm afraid he will never get the money he expects out of that place. It would never do for a sanitarium for nervous wrecks."

"Oh, I don't know," answered Will. "I've been close to it several times, and, I think, by cutting down some of the trees that keep out the sunlight, a good view could be had. Then the place would not be half so depressing. But of course if it gets a reputation of being haunted that will settle it as far as people with weak nerves are concerned. Are you girls going to take up Lagg's offer?"

"We haven't thought of it lately," replied Grace.

"Too busy arranging for our grand tour," added Mollie.

"Well, we fellows may decide to take it up, and get the reward—it would come in handy for vacation money," said Will.

The car was now descending a slope, and soon Shadow Valley was out of sight, as was the strange old mansion. The girls breathed easier, and perhaps the boys did also, for, though nothing had actually occurred, the reputation of the place, and the sudden and startling appearance of the old man, had given them all a thrill.

"This is the second time some one has tumbled out almost under our auto," said Mollie, as they turned on a road toward Deepdale. "The third time may not be so lucky for them—or for us."

"That's so," agreed Amy. "The first was that girl who disappeared so mysteriously. I wonder what became of her?"

"So do I," spoke Grace.

"And if she ever went back to the mysterious 'him' of whom she talked?" added Betty.

"Perhaps it was her—sweetheart—and they had a quarrel," suggested Will.

"Is it silly to—have a sweetheart?" asked Allen, with a glance at Betty, whose face was then turned toward him. He saw the flush on her cheeks deepen.

"Of course!" declared Mollie.

"No, but it's silly to quarrel with them," said Will. "Isn't it, girls? Especially when they bring you—chocolates."

"It's all some of them are good for!" declared Grace, with a toss of her head.

"Children—children!" said Amy, pleadingly. "Don't be naughty."

"All right—little mother!" promised Will.

"But, seriously, I often think of that girl," went on Mollie. "She seemed very nice, and in such trouble."

"Funny about being up a tree, though," said Will, drily. "Maybe she was one of the original tree-dwellers, and reverted to her ancient days."

"You are hopeless," murmured Grace. "Don't encourage him, girls."

"If they don't I'll pine away and go into a gradual decline," said Will, languishingly, trying, unsuccessfully, to put his head on Amy's shoulder.

"Stop it!" she commanded.

"I have it!" cried Frank. "That girl wasn't—well, not to put too fine a point upon it—she wasn't just right in her head. That's why she climbed a tree."

"Poor girl!" spoke Amy. "I hope she found some friends, at any rate," and Amy thought of the mystery surrounding her own life, and how fortunate she had been to find such a good home with Mr. and Mrs. Stonington.

Talking of the recent happening, laughing and joking, the young people were soon in Deepdale, and a little later had separated to their several homes.

As Mollie had said, the details of the tour were now practically settled. Mollie's cousin, Mrs. Jane Mackson, had arranged to accompany the girls as chaperone, and on such times as she could not be with them they were to stop over night at the homes of friends or relatives.

They did not arrange for any definite rules about their trips. It was to be a pleasure jaunt, and at times they would cover more ground than others. Nor were any fixed dates set as to when they would be at certain places. As Mollie aptly expressed it:

"It's so much nicer not to know exactly what you are going to do, and then if anything comes up to make you change your plans you're not disappointed. We're going to be as care-free as we can."

And so the tour was laid out. The girls would take with them suit-cases with sufficient change of raiment to do them until other things could be forwarded from their homes to various designated points. Occasionally they would take a run back to Deepdale to renew necessaries.

The farthest point they would reach would be to visit an aunt of Mollie's in Midvale, about two hundred miles from Deepdale. But this would come at the end of the tour.

"Well, I think we are all ready to start!" exclaimed Mollie one morning, when the three girls, and her cousin, had assembled at her house. "Have you everything you need?"

"Not nearly—but all I can carry," announced Betty.

"No, no, Dodo! Mustn't climb in the car!" admonished Mollie, for the little girl was endeavoring to do so.

"Dot any tandy?" demanded Paul, possibly as the price of not following his sister's example.

"Ess—us ikes tandy!" cried Dodo, climbing down.

"Oh, Grace, will you kindly oblige again!" begged Mollie, as she took her place at the wheel.

"Certainly," said Grace, sweetly.

The girls were in the car.

"All aboard—we're off!" cried Mollie, and she pressed the self-starter button.



CHAPTER XI

A TRACE OF THE GIRL

"When are you coming back for us?"

"Why don't you take us with you? You may need us to help put on a tire."

"They'll send for us in a day or so!"

Thus called Will, Frank and Allen, who had assembled at Mollie's house to watch their girl friends start on the auto tour.

"If we need you we'll send for you," promised Mollie, as she let slip the clutch pedal. "But I don't believe we shall."

"What—need us—or send for us?" asked Allen, with a laugh. "That is an ambiguous statement."

"I'm not on the witness stand!" retorted Mollie to the young law student.

"Now do be careful; won't you, girls?" pleaded Cousin Jane, a trifle nervously, as the car gathered speed.

"Oh, we're always careful," said Mollie. "Don't fuss, Cousin Jane, or you won't have a good time." Mollie was too kind to add that neither would her friends have much pleasure, and perhaps Mrs. Mackson realized this, for, though she would clutch nervously at the side of the seat whenever the car jolted or lurched, she said nothing more in the way of caution.

"Brin us some tandy!" called Dodo after the retreating auto.

"Brin 'ots of it!" added Paul.

"Your true disciples, Grace," remarked Amy.

"You can't make me angry," said Grace in cool tones, as she munched a chocolate.

"What's this?" asked Amy, as she felt some long, round, hard object on the floor of the tonneau, amid many others of various sizes and shapes. "It feels like a—bomb."

"It's my bottle," said Grace, with an assumption of dignity. "Leave it alone, please."

"Your bottle?" asked Betty, curiously, turning around.

"Yes. I filled it with cold chocolate—it's a vacuum bottle, you know—and will keep its contents cold a long time. I thought we might be thirsty."

"As if we wouldn't pass a drug store, or some place where we could get a drink," objected Mollie.

"Oh, well, you'll want some sooner or later," predicted Grace. "Those chicken sandwiches are very salty, and the olives——"

"They always make me want a drink," said Amy. "I'm real glad you brought it, Grace. You and I love each other; don't we?"

"Cupboard love!" scoffed Mollie. "Never mind, Grace, we'll forgive you."

The boys waved their final farewells, the twins joining in, and some of the relatives of the girls, who had gathered to see them off, shook handkerchiefs or hands.

"Under way at last!" exclaimed Betty, as the car gathered speed. "What did you say our stopping place would be for to-night, Mollie?"

"Freedenburg. There's a nice home-like hotel there, and we can get adjoining rooms. I wrote on and engaged them last week."

"That will be nice. Oh, isn't it glorious!"

They were on the main street of Deepdale now, having to pass through the town to get to the road that led to Freedenburg, which was about seventy-five miles away. They planned to make the town by night.

The main street had been sprinkled to lay the dust, and there were little puddles of water here and there. It was impossible to avoid all of them, and Mollie went into a big one at a crossing. The big-tired wheel threw some muddy spray and it went far enough to land on the highly-polished shoes of a youth who had paused to let the car pass.

"I beg your pardon!" called out Mollie, for she was going very slowly.

"Well, of all the careless——" began the youth in angry tones.

"Oh, it's Percy Falconer!" gasped Grace. "See Betty."

"I don't want to see!" she answered sharply.

Percy heard his name, and his manner changed as he recognized the girls.

"I beg your pardon!" he cried, as though the accident had been his fault. "It doesn't matter in the least. I was going to get another shine, anyhow. I wish——"

But his further words were lost as the car moved on.

"That was nice of him," said Mollie. "I did spoil his polish, but when he saw Betty he was as nice as pie, though he looked as if he'd like to eat me up a moment before. Betty, you are to be congratulated."

"Don't speak to me of him. I—I——"

"Count ten, slowly," spoke Amy in such mirth-provoking tones that they all laughed. Percy gazed blankly after the retreating car, and then made his way to a boot-blacking stand.

The girls were soon outside the town, bowling along a pleasant country road. The day was perfect, and, as Grace said, they could not have had a better one for their start had it been "made to order." They had plenty of lunch with them, and planned to stop in some convenient spot at noon and eat.

"Oh, I forgot those cheese-crackers!" suddenly cried Betty, when they had gone several miles. "I had them on the hall table, and I'm sure I forgot to put them in."

"Look and see," suggested Mollie.

"No, they're not here," went on Betty, regretfully, after a search. "We're all so fond of them."

"Mr. Lagg keeps them," suggested Grace. "It wouldn't be much out of our way to go to his store."

"We will!" decided Mollie, and she made a turn at the next crossing. Mr. Lagg was glad to see them, as he always was. He bowed and smiled as he came out to the car.

"Ladies, you have come, I see, To say you'll lay that ghost for me.

"At least I hope so," went on the poetical grocer, with a laugh. "Say you'll undertake that job," he pleaded. "I've tried to get those doctors to take the place, ghost and all, but they won't, and I'll have it on my hands if I don't look out."

"We can't promise," spoke Mollie. "Maybe the boys—Grace's brother and his chums—will undertake it, Mr. Lagg. If they don't, when we come back from our tour, we'll consider it once more."

"Well, I'll hold you to that!" he declared. "This is getting serious with me."

"Have the doctors made any other move?" asked Betty.

"No, not yet. They asked me if I could guarantee that there would be no queer disturbances, and of course I couldn't so they said they'd have to wait. But they're dickering for another place, and may take it. I wish there was no such things as ghosts."

"There aren't!" declared Mollie, decidedly.

"Then how do you account for what happened in the old mansion?" asked Mr. Lagg.

"Imagination," said Betty.

The storekeeper shook his head.

"A fellow like Pete Skillinger, or some of the fishermen around here, might imagine," he admitted, "but not those scientific doctors. They certainly saw, and heard, something they couldn't explain. They sure did!"

"Did you make any inquiries to be sure they were not doing this themselves?" asked Mollie. "I've heard of such cases."

"No, these doctors are all well-known men, and have good reputations," said Mr. Lagg, with another puzzled shake of his head. "They wouldn't do such a thing. I don't doubt but what this haunting business can be explained; but how? That's the question. How? I can't solve it—I haven't time—daren't leave my store. Now you girls are smart and brave. The ghost of Elm Island didn't bother you, so why should this one?"

"Oh, well, we'll think about it," promised Mollie. "Now what we most need are cheese crackers—and not ghostly ones, either, Mr. Lagg."

"You shall have the best in stock."

Then, his mind being turned in another channel he recited this:

"Cheese crackers I have, large and small Enough for one—enough for all. I've sardines and pickles too, My aim is always to please you."

"And you generally hit what you aim at," laughed Grace. "I think I'll have a few more chocolates," she added, as she inspected her box. "These won't last all day, and I know yours are good, Mr. Lagg."

"I'll bring them out," he said, as he hurried into the store.

The girls bought a few other things they found they had overlooked in starting off, and once more they got under way.

"Don't forget the ghost!" pleaded Mr. Lagg, as he waved farewell. "Get rid of it for me."

"Poor old man—he really means it," said Amy. "I wonder what can be in that house?"

"Bats and rats, most likely," said "Cousin Jane," as they all called her. "Bats and rats!"

"Worse than spooks—when they get in your hair," spoke Mollie. "Give me a nice clean ghost, that waltzes around in a two-step. Oh, girls, I hope we can go to a dance of two on our tour."

"Some are planned for us," said Mollie.

They kept on, enjoying the ride to the utmost. Just before noon they got a puncture, and voted not to attend to it until after lunch, which they ate near a road-side spring, under a great oak tree. And then the Fates were kind to them. For, as they were laboriously jacking up the car to take off the tire, a lone chauffeur, in a big car, came along and kindly offered to do the work for them.

The girls gladly accepted, and watched him carefully, for though they had once or twice before changed a shoe, they were not skillful at it. Mollie offered the man some change, but he declined with a laugh and reddened under his tan.

"Then do have some lunch!" said Betty, understanding his embarrassment.

"And chocolates," added Grace, generously.

"I will," he said. "It's hard work driving a big car like mine—all alone."

"Oh, is it your car?" asked Mollie. "I thought——" and as the young man nodded she understood why he had refused the money. He was the owner.

"Oh, girls!" exclaimed Mollie, when he had gone, "and to think that I wanted to pay him—maybe he's a millionaire."

"You meant it all right," said Betty. "And really he looked like a professional chauffeur. He might have taken the money, and let us think so. I read a story once where a man did that, and fell in love with a girl, and——"

"Spare us the details," begged Grace.

Again the girls were off, and without further accident, save that when Betty was driving she narrowly missed running over a persistent barking dog. They reached Freedenburg, and went to the hotel, leaving the auto at a public garage near by.

"Oh, for a good bath, and a hot cup of tea!" exclaimed Mollie, for the latter part of the ride had been rather hot and dusty. "Then we'll feel like new girls."

The services of a maid were at their disposal in their rooms, and they were soon making themselves fresh for the dinner that was shortly to be served. As Mollie let down her long hair the maid uttered an exclamation:

"Excuse me, Miss, for remarking it," she said, "but you have lovely hair."

"We all think so," added Betty.

"It isn't so very nice," spoke Mollie. "I am hoping it will get thicker."

"It's lovely!" the maid insisted. "I haven't seen any as nice—not since a strange girl stopped here one night some time ago, and I helped her do hers up. Hers was nearly to the floor when she stood up. And it was just the color of yours. She had a scar on her forehead, I remember—a recent one, and I had to be careful of it as I combed her hair."

"A cut?" asked Betty, looking at her friends curiously.

"Yes, Miss. She said she had fallen out of a tree."

"A tree!" The four girls uttered this together.

"Why, yes," and the maid seemed surprised. "I suppose she was playing—she said she was very fond of sports—and she was just the age to enjoy them."

"Yes, yes!" exclaimed Betty eagerly. "Did she have—I mean what was her name—or could you describe her to us? We have a reason for asking."

"Why, I don't recall that she gave me her name," said the maid slowly, "but I can tell you how she looked."

Then, to the surprise of Betty and her chums, the hotel maid gave a good description of the girl they had seen fall out of the tree some time before—the girl who had so strangely disappeared when they went after aid for her.

"It's the same one!" cried Betty, and then she told the maid of the coincidence.



CHAPTER XII

A DISABLED CAR

"Where did she go?"

"Didn't she leave her name—or anything?"

"Did she seem all right?"

"Did she tell why she was in the tree?"

With these questions the girls fairly bombarded the mystified maid when they had established, beyond all reasonable doubt, that the girl they had aided and the one at the hotel were one and the same.

"I don't know where she went," the maid finally managed to say, "and I don't know her name. It may be on the register, though."

"We'll look!" declared Betty. "But did you learn anything about her?"

"Nothing much. She seemed all right, as far as her health was concerned, but she did not seem happy. The cut on her head was nothing. I asked her if the fall from the tree had hurt her, and she said not much."

"Did she say why she climbed up it?" asked Amy.

"No, Miss, she did not."

"And she didn't tell you anything about herself?" It was Grace who asked this.

"No, only in a general way. I thought, from what she said, Miss, that she had seen trouble, and was trying to get away from it. She was well dressed, and had some money. She let fall that she was traveling about, trying to find some friends she had lost track of. There was some mystery about her, of that I'm certain."

"I am too," declared Mollie. "Poor girl!"

"I'm going to look at the register," said Betty. "That may give us a clue, as the boys say."

The girls dressed for dinner, and then visited the hotel office. The maid fortunately had a good memory, and could tell the date of the girl's stay. The register of that day contained several names, but the clerk recalled the incident of the girl applying for a room. This hotel made a speciality of catering to women patrons.

"That's her name," said the young man, pointing to one in the book. "Carrie Norton."

"And it doesn't say where she is from," remarked Amy.

"I asked her about that," spoke the clerk, "and she said it did not matter. So I did not insist."

"Carrie Norton," mused Mollie, as the girls went into the dining room. "Well, I hope she has found her friends. Poor girl!"

They talked and speculated about her, but that was all they could do. They could arrive at no conclusion. It was plain that she had not been as badly hurt as they had feared, and, after leaving the farm house, must have gone to some other place of shelter. She must have also changed her garments, for the dress the maid described was not the one she wore at the time of the accident.

She had left the hotel, after stopping there one night, the maid said, and had left no directions for any mail to be forwarded, nor had she given any clue to where she was going.

"She seems to have come into our lives in a most mysterious way," said Mollie, "and then to have vanished. We get a glimpse of her, as it were, and again she vanishes. I wonder if we will ever solve the mystery?"

"Perhaps she is—the ghost of the haunted mansion of Shadow Valley," suggested Betty.

"What an idea!" cried Grace. "Don't be so—shivery!"

"Well, she is as mysterious as ghosts are supposed to be," Betty went on. "I wonder when we will meet her again?"

"When we do, we must take care that she does not escape without telling us more about herself," said Amy. "Not that we can insist, but we ought to know for our own satisfaction."

"I think so, too," added Mollie. "She is getting on my nerves."

"Besides, we might be able to help her," spoke Grace. "It is dreadful to think of a nice girl like that going the country, friendless and alone. She may need just the aid we could give her."

All the conclusion the girls could come to was that the girl, after leaving the farm house, had somehow managed to find those who were able to look after her. Then had come an interim, which was a blank as far as the girls were concerned. Then came the hotel episode, and—another blank.

"It's like one of those missing-piece puzzles," complained Grace. "We'll never get it straightened out."

"We may," said Betty, more hopefully.

That evening, with Cousin Jane to accompany them, they went to a pretty little play, enjoying it very much. Morning saw them on the road again, and they stopped the next night at the house of a distant relative of Betty's mother.

Then, for a time, the good luck the girls had had left them. There came a spell of rain that lasted two days, and they remained in the house of Mrs. Nelson's relative—rather miserable days they were, too, for there was little to occupy them. But all things come to an end finally, and the bad weather was no exception.

The sun came out, the roads dried up, and one pleasant morning saw the outdoor girls again in the car, speeding onward. Their objective point was Wendell City, and to reach this they had to make a detour that would take them through a picturesque part of the country.

In fact it was so picturesque, and there were so many fine views, that Mollie stopped the car oftener than she meant to, and in consequence they were far behind their schedule when it began to grow dusk.

"Something is the matter with the car," said Mollie, after a climb of a steep hill, which had to be taken on second gear.

"Oh, don't say that!" begged Grace. "We've got a good way to go, yet."

"Oh, it isn't anything serious, I think," said Mollie. "But one of the cylinders seems to be 'missing.' There, hear it!" she exclaimed. The girls were expert enough to detect the "miss," now. It was unmistakable.

The auto faltered on top of the hill. Then it went down and on the level seemed to be all right again. The girls were more hopeful, until the next hill was reached. There the car nearly stalled. But the summit was reached, and there appeared in view a long, easy, downward slope.

And then, with a sigh and a groan of protest—which manifestations had been accumulating of late, the car suddenly ceased working, and came to a stop. The power was gone.

"Oh dear!" cried Mollie, for it was getting late, and the road was a lonely one. "What shall we do?"

"Get out and fix it, of course," answered practical Betty.

"Look—look where we are," whispered Grace, clutching the arm of Mollie.

"Where? Don't be so nervous. Where are we?"

"Near the rear entrance to Shadow Valley," spoke Grace, in an awe-struck voice.



CHAPTER XIII

THE STORM

Silence followed an exclamation that came from the lips of each of the girls—an involuntary cry from each one, brought out by the words of Grace.

"Shadow Valley!" murmured Mollie.

"And the—the——" it was Betty who began this, it being her evident intention to make a remark about the haunted house. Then her usual good sense came to her rescue, and she refrained. There was pressure enough now on the nerves of her chums, she reasoned.

"Well, what of it?" she asked in a voice meant to be cheerful, and Betty was an adept at simulation under necessity.

"Don't—don't you understand?" faltered Grace, in a low voice—a tone calculated to add to the tenseness of the situation, rather than to relieve it.

"I understand that our car has balked for some reason or other," said Betty in brisk, business-like tones, "and we have to fix it. If we don't we are likely to be caught in a thunder storm. So get out, girls, and let's hunt for trouble. Grace, if you have any chocolates left you might offer them as a prize for the one who first discovers the difficulty—and why the motor won't mote. Cousin Jane will be the—stake-holder is the proper term, I believe."

"The idea!" cried Mollie. "That's only When there is betting. We don't do anything like that."

"I meant to say prize-holder then!" admitted Betty, with a laugh.

"Well, there's no use discussing it—I haven't a chocolate left," sighed Grace. "But oh, do you realize our position?"

"I do indeed, and that's why I say we must make this car go," went on Betty. "Come," and she got out, followed by Mollie. "It seems hard lines to get a thunder storm after all the rain we've had, but it is threatening. Let's get busy."

"I think that suggestion very practical," said Mrs. Mackson. "Girls, you had better do as Betty says and try to find out what is the matter with the car. I don't know anything about such things or I'd help. If a hairpin will be of any use I have an extra paper of them with me."

"Hairpins! Oh, dear!" laughed Amy half hysterically. "A hairpin to mend a broken auto!"

"I have known one to be of service on a motor boat," spoke Betty. "I bent it in the shape of a spring, and used it on a valve in the Gem."

"I'm afraid there's more than that the matter here," spoke Mollie, as she raised the hood of her car. "That one cylinder must have affected the others, in some way."

"Gracious!" exclaimed Amy, "I didn't know auto diseases were catching in that way. We must be careful, girls."

"It's getting darker," observed Betty. "We must be quick Mollie, if we're to get to shelter before the storm breaks."

It was growing dark and gloomy, and though it was not yet seven o'clock the lowering clouds had added to the dusk of approaching night. Occasionally, in the distance, could be heard the low rumbling of thunder.

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Grace. "We are in for a drenching, that's sure."

"Not necessarily!" said Mollie, a bit sharply. "I'd remind you that my car has a top, and we can put it up."

"That's all right," spoke Betty, soothingly, for she noted that Mollie's temper might get the best of her under the stress of the trouble. "Let's look at the engine first. Shall I light the lamps, Mollie?"

"Yes, do. I didn't think of them. Light the oil ones as well as switch on the electrics. We may need both, and I am not sure of that storage battery. The last place I had it looked at the man said it would need re-charging soon."

While Betty, with the aid of Grace, set the oil and electric head lamps aglow, and saw that the tail light was also in service, Mollie was peering at the motor.

"Just push the self-starter button," she directed Betty after a moment, during which she had primed the cylinders with gasoline, and changed the adjustment of the carburetor slightly. She had really made quite a study of the troubles that might beset a motor, and the garage man had added some further instructions.

Mollie watched while Betty pushed the lever, and set the electric starter in motion, but when the gasoline and spark levers were set at the proper places, the motor did not respond, the fly wheel merely revolving under the impulse of the starter.

"What is it?" asked Grace. "Can you tell what is the matter?"

"No, I can't!" and Mollie spoke shortly. "I'll tell you as soon as I've found out," she said. "Please don't make me nervous, Grace—dear." Mollie added the last as a polite concession.

"Nervous! If anyone is more nervous than I am, I'd like to know it," murmured Grace. "Oh, how I wish I had a chocolate!" and she hurriedly sought among her possessions, but in vain.

"I wonder how we happened to get here—at the entrance to Shadow Valley?" queried Amy. "I thought we were far away from it."

"We are far enough from the other end," replied Grace. "I guess Mollie didn't know this road took us here, or she wouldn't have come. We are nearer—nearer the—oh, you know what I mean, Amy."

"Yes, you mean—that house!"

"That's it. I—I hate to mention it. But we are nearer to it than ever since—since Mr. Lagg told us about the—the trouble there. I wish we were—back home. Gracious—what's that?" and she jumped nervously, clutching Amy's arm.

"Only thunder—a sharper clap than usual—don't be a goose!" said Betty, sharply. "Shall I try it again, Mollie?" for Mollie was still inspecting the motor by the light of one of the oil lamps held over it by Cousin Jane, while Betty was at the steering wheel, manipulating the levers.

"Yes, try it once more. I can't seem to see what is the matter. The ignition seems to be all right, but when you throw in the gas, and set the spark, the motor doesn't take it up. Try again."

Again Betty tried, but the fly wheel would only revolve, and that was all.

"It's no use!" sighed Mollie. "I'll have to have a garage man look at it. Probably it's some simple little thing. That's generally the way—it's the little things of life that make so much trouble. You can fight a big thing better."

"But where will you find a garage man around here—and at this time of night?" asked Amy, for it was really night now, with the clouds adding to the darkness.

"I don't know, I'm sure," and Mollie's voice did not have its usual pleasant note. "Maybe one will come along in an airship," she added a bit sarcastically.

"Mollie," spoke Betty soothingly.

"I don't care—I don't like foolish questions asked of me when I'm worried."

"I didn't mean to bother you," said Amy gently.

"Oh, I know it!" and Mollie's voice trembled. "It was horribly mean of me to answer you as I did. I beg your pardon, but I am so bothered! Isn't it mean to have things go wrong this way, and at such an inconvenient time and place?"

"Never mind," spoke Betty, laughing. "To-morrow we will only think this was fun. And now I suggest that we go down the road a bit, and look for a garage. It's true that this isn't a main highway, but nowadays even the country blacksmiths are calling themselves auto repairers. We may come upon one unexpectedly, and if his shop is closed he may live near enough so that we can get him out here. Let's try, anyhow."

"Betty, dear, you're such a comfort!" exclaimed Mollie, putting her arms around her chum. "Come, we'll go on a hunting expedition."

"All of us?" asked Grace.

"No, there's no need for all of us to go," said Betty. "Mollie and I will take a lantern—one of the oil ones—and walk down the road. The rest of you can stay here."

"And I think you'd better put the top up while we are gone," suggested Mollie. "It may rain suddenly, and with the top and the side curtains and wind-shield in front, we can at least keep dry until morning."

"What! Stay here all night?" cried Amy.

"Why not? Where else can we go?"

"I'll not stay," declared Grace. "I'll walk anywhere—even in the rain—to get away from—this place," and she could not repress a shudder as she looked back over her shoulder at the entrance to gloomy Shadow Valley.

Betty again took her position at the wheel—why, she hardly knew. Mollie had closed the bonnet over the motor, evidently giving up trying to discover the trouble. Idly Betty pushed on the button and lever of the self-starter, and then she exclaimed:

"I have it!"

"What! Have you found the trouble?" asked Mollie, excitedly.

"No, but I have a plan. We can run the car down to the foot of the slope. It's more sheltered there—bigger trees, you know—and we'll be that much nearer where we want to go."

"But how can you make the car go—when it won't?" asked Mollie.

"The self-starter! It's guaranteed to run the car under electric power for nearly a mile, without the motor being operated. All we'll have to do will be to set the starter going—that turns the fly wheel, you know. Then we can put in low gear, slip in the clutch, just as if the motor was in operation, and get the car to the top of the hill. We're really at the top now, for it's level here. But we can get it to the edge of the downward slope, and let it coast. Then, on the next level, we can do the same thing again. In that way I am almost sure we can make over a mile."

"Good!" cried Mollie. "You should have a car instead of me, Bet, my dear!"

"Oh, I don't take any credit for that think! I just recalled an advertisement I had read about self-starters. Nearly all of them say the starters alone will propel the car for some distance. Let's try it, anyhow."

They all felt better on hearing this, and Amy even laughed. She started to get into the car, when Betty said:

"Perhaps it will be just as well to wait about getting in until the car is at the beginning of the slope. The less weight in the auto the easier it will move. Mollie, do you want to try the scheme?"

"No, you do it—you thought of it. We'll walk along with you if you get it to go."

Betty soon demonstrated that she could get the auto to move, and slowly but surely it rolled along until it had started down a long, gentle slope. Then Betty shut off the electric motor, which was run by a storage battery, and applied the brakes.

"Get in now," she directed, and a little later the party was coasting down hill, the foot brake serving to prevent too great speed.

"So far—so good!" cried Betty, when they had reached the level. "Now to see how far the starter will carry us."

As she spoke a more vivid flash of lightning, and a rumbling crash of thunder, made all the girls, and even Cousin Jane, jump.

"We're going to get it!" predicted Grace, with a shiver.

Betty again repeated her operation with the starter. The car went forward slowly, and the girls were very hopeful, and then suddenly the auto came to a stop with a sort of whining groan, and the electric lights went out.

"Oh, dear! What's happened now?" asked Amy.

"The storage battery has given out," said Mollie. "I was afraid it would. Now, girls, we'll either have to stay here in the auto, or else walk—and be caught in the rain."

"Well, let's get the top up, at all events," suggested Betty. "Then we'll be sure of some shelter."

It began to rain, gently at first, even while they were struggling with the rather refractory top, in the dim light of the two oil lamps. But they managed to get it in place. Then, as they were fastening the side curtains, the storm burst in all its fury, with a suddenness that was almost terrifying.

Grace and Amy, who were trying to fasten a curtain on the side of the auto whence the wind came, screamed and let go of the flap. In an instant, so powerful was the wind, it had ripped off the curtain, sending it scurrying away in the blackness of the night, that was torn and pierced by frequent flashes of lightning.

"Now we have done it!" cried Grace. "Oh, Mollie, I'm so sorry!"

"Never mind! Don't talk about that now. Get on your raincoats, girls, or you'll be drenched!" and, fastening the last strap of her curtain, Mollie donned her garment—the girls and Mrs. Mackson carrying them in a seat locker that Mollie had utilized for this purpose.

But the rain came in at the place where there was no side curtain, sweeping over them all. The wind blew fiercely, and the auto swayed in the blast. Miserable indeed was the plight of the Outdoor Girls. They were possibly having just a little too much of out doors.



CHAPTER XIV

AT THE HAUNTED HOUSE

"Girls, I can't stand this any longer!" complained Mollie, as the storm raged about and above them.

"What are you going to do?" asked Betty.

"For one thing, let's try to take one of the curtains from the side where the wind doesn't blow so hard, and fasten it on the place where that one blew away. That will help some."

They tried, but it was hard work. The curtains fastened with straps above and below, being a new kind, and not very satisfactory, as Mollie declared then and there. Nor were the girls successful, for the wind whipped and blew the curtain about so that it was impossible to put it up. Thus there were two openings now—one on either side of the auto—and rain came in both.

"This is dreadful!" cried Mollie. "Girls, I'm sure you'll never forgive me for getting you into this scrape."

"It wasn't your fault," said Betty. "You couldn't tell that the motor was going to give out. Besides, what if we are wet? It isn't very cold, and we'll get dry some time. Oh, but that was a heavy one!" she cried, pressing her hands over her ears as a tremendous peal of thunder followed closely after a vivid flash.

"We must do something!" cried Mollie. "This is unbearable."

"But what are you going to do?" asked Grace. "It looks to me as though we'd just have to bear it."

"We can get out and walk until we find some kind of shelter," said Mollie. "There must be some sort of house around here. This place isn't a desert. And even walking in the rain and mud is better than staying here, all cramped up, and drenched. Who will come?"

"I guess we all will, if one of us goes," spoke Betty. "But, oh, Mollie, are you sure that's the best thing to do?"

"Why not? What else can we do?"

"Well, of course if this storm would let up it would be easier going out then. We might wait a while."

"It doesn't show any signs of letting up," retorted Mollie. "It acts to me like an all-night rain, and the longer we wait the worse off we'll be, and the less chance we'll have of finding any one up if we do locate a house."

"Oh, for a nice dry house, and a good hot cup of chocolate!" sighed Grace.

"Heartless creature—to even dream of such things!" cried Amy. "Oh dear! What do you think? A stream of water is going down my back."

"And both my shoulders are soaking wet," added Mrs. Mackson. "But it might be worse, girls!"

"I don't very well see how," remarked Mollie. "Well, shall we try it?"

The others hesitated a moment. As they waited and listened to the whining of the wind, the swish of the rain and the angry muttering of the thunder, and saw the vivid lightning, it was no wonder they did not want to decide hurriedly to go out in that out burst of the elements. But it was also trying on the nerves to stay in the stalled auto, exposed as it was by the lack of side curtains.

"Oh, let's try it!" suggested Betty in sheer desperation. "We can't any more than get drenched, and our rain coats will be some protection. Come on, girls."

They had the two oil lanterns in the car with them, and carrying them they now emerged from their shelter.

"Gracious! This is awful!" gasped Mollie, as the blast and rain struck her full in the face.

"Keep on!" called Betty, grimly.

"Which way?" asked Amy. "How dark it is!"

"Not when it lightens—that's one good thing about it," said Cousin Jane, cheerfully.

"It's nice you can see some good points," laughed Mollie—yes, actually laughed, and the girls marveled at it. But Mollie had that rare quality of "keeping her nerve," if I may be pardoned that expression, so often and effectively used by my friends, the boys.

"We had better go forward," suggested Betty. "We didn't pass any houses for quite a while as we were coming up here, and there may be one not far off just ahead. Or we may find a cross-road. Advance, I say!"

"And I agree," spoke Mollie. "Come on."

She and Betty led the way, carrying the lamps, which gave but an uncertain light, and that only in one direction—forward. However, the road, though now quite muddy, was a level one, and in fairly good condition.

Forward they tramped through the rain. It is on such occasions as these—when something goes wrong, upsetting all prearranged plans, and making life seem miserable—that true courage of a sort, comradeship, good-fellowship and real grit are best shown. And, to the credit of the outdoor girls be it said that, now they had taken the "plunge" none of them showed the white feather. They were brave under any circumstances and this very bravery strengthened their tired nerves.

On they splashed through muddy puddles, protecting themselves from the rain as best they could by their coats. But occasionally the wind would whip them open, letting in the moisture that already had soaked the garments well.

"There doesn't seem to be any shelter," remarked Amy, hopelessly, when they had gone perhaps half a mile.

"Oh, don't give up yet," suggested Mollie.

They kept on, and came to a cross-road.

"Now which way?" asked Betty.

"Straight ahead," proposed Mollie.

"To the left," offered Grace.

"The right," was Amy's choice.

"I think—I'm not sure, but I think I see a light off to the left," said Cousin Jane.

"A light!" cried Betty. "Then we ought to head for that."

"But I am not certain," went on Mrs. Mackson. "Look, girls, is that a light?"

They grouped around her, and gazed in the direction she pointed.

"Hold the lamps the other way, and we can see better," suggested Grace.

"Hold the lens against your skirts, Mollie," said Betty. "That will make dark-lanterns for us."

She and Mollie did this, and in the intense blackness, that, for the moment was not illuminated by a lightning flash, they peered about them.

"It is a light!" exclaimed Grace. "Thank goodness!"

"I think so, too," added Mollie, as she glimpsed a point of illumination. "Come on, girls! They won't refuse to help us."

Much encouraged they kept on. The rain increased, but they did not so much care now. The thunder was just as hard, and the flashes of heaven's fire was vivid, while the wind seemed more powerful. But they kept on. The light they had seen seemed to grow brighter. Then it suddenly disappeared.

"Oh dear!" cried Grace, despairingly. "It is gone!"

"Never mind," said Mollie. "They may have taken it to another room, or put it out to go to bed. But we can find the place, as long as we are on the right road."

On they stumbled, and then Betty, who was a little in the advance gave a cry—a cry of joy.

"Here is the house!" she cried. "It is all dark, but we will knock."

By the lightning flashes they saw, set some distance back from the road, a large house. By the same flashes they saw leading up to it a path, much overgrown with weeds. And back of the house were big trees. The rest was not very distinct, but at least shelter was offered them.

"Come on!" urged Betty, resolutely.

"Suppose there are—dogs?" faltered Amy.

"If there are they would have barked before now. But I don't believe even a self-respecting dog would bother us on a night like this," said Mollie. "Come on."

They advanced up the old path, that was overgrown with weeds.

"I don't believe any one lives there," ventured Grace, in a low voice.

"If they do they don't keep the place in very good condition," spoke Cousin Jane. "It's a shame to let it get so run down."

Mollie was knocking on the door. The sound of her knuckles seemed to echo through an empty house. The hearts of the girls were despairing again. Once more Mollie knocked. No answer.

"No one at home," she murmured. "And yet the light!"

She gave a little cry.

"What is it?" asked Betty.

"The door—it opened of itself!"

"Nonsense! Perhaps it was not shut, and you pushed it!"

Betty flashed her light forward. It shone on the old door, that was slowly swinging open, seemingly of its own accord. Then a bare and deserted hall was observed.

At that moment there came a vivid lightning flash, and before the thunder could echo Grace cried:

"We're at the haunted house of Shadow Valley!"



CHAPTER XV

QUEER MANIFESTATIONS

Curiously enough it was gentle Amy who made a remark that saved the day—or should I say night? For it was after dark.

As the girls literally shivered, following the exclamation of Grace—shivered as much from the chilling rain as from the terror induced—Amy said, with such a queer intonation:

"Do you suppose that door opened itself to invite us in?"

There was a moment of silence. Then Grace giggled, Betty caught her breath in a gasp, Mollie went into a perfect gale of laughter, and Cousin Jane—well, she said it herself afterward—she snickered.

"Amy, that's the most sensible thing I've heard since this series of midnight adventures began," declared Mollie.

"And since the door did open to let us in, suppose we take advantage of it," suggested Betty, "and go in."

"What—into the—the haunted house!" and Grace's voice was shrill.

"Now see here!" began Betty, and her voice was as severe as she could make it, for she recognized that now was the time to get the situation well in hand. "This house is no more haunted than you are, Grace Ford."

"But—but——"

"'But me no buts,'" quoted Betty, merrily—as merrily as possible under the circumstances. "We are going to be sensible—and—go in."

Suiting the action to the word she advanced into the hall, through which the wind was now sweeping in rather mournful gusts. Mollie hesitated a moment, and then followed her chum. The action of the two leaders with the lanterns had a good effect on the others.

This might have been accounted for in two ways. The presence of Betty and Mollie in the hall may have had its effect, or the kindly lights of the auto, glowing so cozily, disclosed a shelter that, whatever its disadvantages, at least afforded dryness.

Then, too, the taking away of the lights from the three of the party who remained outside may have added to the effect. At any rate Grace stepped into the hall, followed by Cousin Jane, and then timid Amy, finding herself alone on the small porch, scurried in.

"Well, we're here!" said Betty, with a smile—rather a pale effort to tell the truth, but a smile nevertheless. "Now what is the next thing to do?"

"If we had only brought something to eat," sighed Grace. "And our chocolate outfit!" for they carried one, with a small alcohol stove, that they might make a hot drink when they stopped at noon for luncheon.

"No use crying over missing chocolate," said Mollie. "We're here, under shelter, anyhow; and we can keep dry. Now if we can find anyone at home we'll beg their hospitality for the night. Maybe they can get us a meal—if we pay for it."

"There's no one living in this house—I'm sure of that!" declared Amy. "Smell the musty odor—and—see——" she pushed open a door leading from the hall, and directed Betty's hand so that the lantern flashed inside. The room was bare and empty. "No one at all," she insisted. "The house is deserted."

"Well, so much the better," declared Grace. "That is, if there are no—no——" she did not finish, but looked around rather apprehensively.

"Ghosts—say it!" commanded Betty, sharply. "The oftener you use the word the less it will frighten you."

"Look here!" exclaimed Mollie. "I don't believe we're in the—the haunted house at all."

"Why not?" demanded Grace.

"Because this isn't at all like the kind of a house a millionaire would build. It's—common. You can see for yourselves."

It did indeed seem so.

"But we were close to the end of Shadow Valley, where Kenyon's Folly was built," insisted Grace, "and we turned in nearer to it when we took that cross-road. I'm sure it's the place."

"Well, it's a queer thing to be insisting that you are in a haunted house," remarked Betty, "but I am beginning to believe now that we are not. At least I agree with Mollie that this doesn't look at all like the place called Kenyon's Folly."

As the storm thundered and roared about them the girls looked around the hall and room. Truly it was but a poor structure, much fallen into decay now, yet at heart it was sound. Paint and decoration would do much to restore it.

"I think I can explain it," said Amy.

"Do then," begged Grace.

"Don't you remember, Mr. Lagg told us that there was a housekeeper's residence built to connect with the main structures?" she said. "There is a sort of covered passage, I believe, that goes to the main castle, as it were."

"Then the real haunted house must be—back there," and Grace pointed toward where they had observed the thick trees.

"Yes. We are only in the—annex," said Betty. "But it suits me."

"If we only had something to eat and drink we would—annex that," observed Grace. "I'm starved!"

"Let's have a look around, anyhow, as long as we are here," suggested Mollie. "We may as well stay here for the night——"

"For the night!" cried Grace.

"Yes. Where else can we go? I'm not going out in that storm again if I can help it. We're dry here, at least. Just listen to that rain!"

"It's coming down in torrents!" exclaimed Betty. "We simply can't go out."

"And it will give us something to do to explore a bit," added Mrs. Mackson. "Come along girls. Who knows but what we may find a table all set for us by fairy hands, as we used to read of in the story books?"

They paused for a moment. Not a sound came from the rooms and passage about them. Only the storm raged outside.

"Well, let's—let's——" began Mollie.

"Oh, come on!" cried Betty, as her chum hesitated. "At least we have lights."

"And I'm going to take off my wet coat," said Grace.

"Oh, if we could have a fire!"

"There's a fire place," said Betty, flashing her lamp into the room the door of which Amy had opened. "And, I do declare, some old boards and boxes! Why can't we have a fire?"

The idea appealed to all of them, and presently, taking heart, they entered the room, and piling some boxes, splintered boards and papers on the old hearth, set them ablaze.

As the ruddy flames leaped up the broad chimney they gathered about, much cheered, though still hungry.

"If we only had something to eat," sighed Grace. "I wonder, if by chance the former inhabitants left some morsels of food? Suppose we take a look?"

The others hesitated a moment, and then Mollie said:

"I'm with you!"

She caught up the still-glowing auto lamp, and led the way, the others following.

"Up stairs; or down stairs?" she challenged.

"Or in my lady's chamber?" completed Betty, with a laugh.

They went through various rooms. All were deserted. Here and there they saw discarded and broken furniture. But there was no sign of recent habitation. The house was musty and damp, but they were glad of shelter from the storm.

"Only my poor auto!" sighed Mollie. "I hope nothing happens to it."

"It can stand the weather," said Grace. "What is beyond here, I wonder?" she said, as they came to a pause before a closed door.

"Let's look," suggested Betty.

Like other portals in the house this one was not locked. Betty pushed it open, and a long passage was revealed.

"The way to—the haunted house!" exclaimed Mollie, rather dramatically.

"Hush!" begged Grace.

"Silly!" admonished Betty. "Come on."

She plunged into the passage. The echoing footsteps of the others following could be heard. She came to another door, opened it, and gave a cry of delight.

"Girls—supper!" she exclaimed, and, holding her light high up, she flashed it on a collection of groceries. Boxes of sardines there were, dried herring, crackers, some butter in a carton, a loaf of bread, canned tomatoes and peaches, and with all some dishes—knives and forks, spoons, and, most useful of all—a can-opener, and a corkscrew—and—a bottle of olives!

"Oh joy!" exclaimed Grace. "The fairy prince has been here!"

"Grace!" remonstrated Amy, as her friend caught up the bottle of olives and proceeded to open it. "We don't know whose they are."

"So much the better; our consciences won't trouble us. And if anyone comes to claim them we can pay for what we eat—I have money!" and she jingled her silver purse, "And now, 'let good digestion wait on appetite, and health on both,'" she quoted. "Fall to!"

The girls laughed, but they did "fall to." Cans and tins were opened, crackers and slices of bread spread, and with peach juice to drink, for they did not like to draw any water, fearing it might not be fresh—they ate—and ate—and ate again.

"Oh, how good I feel!" cried Grace, as there came a pause.

"But how in the world do you imagine this stuff got here?" asked Amy.

"Why seek to inquire?" spoke Mollie. "That it is here is sufficient for me. Another olive, Betty, dear?"

"The—our friend the ghost may have provided it," said Grace.

"You are coming on bravely," commented Betty. "If you will——"

She paused—they all did—mouths half opened. For from somewhere in the structure came a hollow and terrifying groan, and then followed the unmistakable sound of clinking metal, while a bluish light flashed around them. Then came another long-drawn cry—a shrill, eerie wail, and both their lights went out, leaving them in total darkness, while the storm shrieked about the old house, rocking it, and swaying it as though to tear it from its foundations.



CHAPTER XVI

"SO YOU HAVE COME BACK!"

Screams and frightened exclamations on the part of the girls followed the queer manifestations. Even Cousin Jane gave a cry of alarm, and clung to Betty. In fact, everyone was clinging to some one else, the table having been deserted at the first alarm.

There was silence for a moment—no, not altogether a silence, for the noise of the storm indicated that it was not in the least lessening, but there was comparative quiet in the room, and then again came that strange bluish, flickering glare, and the metallic clanging sound. Then there was that startling, hollow groan, that seemed to echo and re-echo through the deserted house.

"Oh! Oh!" moaned Grace. "This is awful—terrible!"

It was sufficiently terrible there in the darkness, illuminated only by the lightning, or by that weird blue glare that seemed to come from no place in particular, but which shone through the whole room—throwing into ghastly outlines the faces of the girls.

Their lamps had gone out—or been blown out—they did not know which, and as they clung to each other, their hearts pounding, every startled nerve on the alert, Amy gasped:

"What—what made the lights go out? Can anyone tell?"

Even then, Betty confessed afterward, she felt a hysterical desire to propound the old question of where a certain Biblical personage was when the light went out, but instead Grace answered before her:

"They were blown out by—by——" she hesitated.

"By the wind!" exclaimed Mollie, quickly. "What else? There's an awful draught in here. Who has the matches?"

It was the most sensible thing she could have said under the circumstances, and it somewhat relieved the tension.

"I have some," answered Grace. "But—but what has happened, anyhow?"

"It's the thunder and lightning," declared Cousin Jane. "It must have struck somewhere around here. It hit our barn once, and I noticed something the same as now. Maybe that put out the lights."

"Well, let's put them in service again," proposed Betty. "I don't like the dark."

"Neither do I—in here," spoke Mollie. "Please strike a match, Grace."

The interior of the old house was quiet now, as with fingers that would tremble in spite of her efforts to still them, Grace lighted a match, and applied the flickering flame to the wick of one of the lamps which Betty opened. Then, as the cheerful yellow glow shone around them, Amy cried:

"Oh, smell that sulphur!"

There was the unmistakable odor in the rather close air of the room.

"It's from the match," said Mollie.

"No, I didn't use a sulphur match," said Grace.

"It's the lightning," declared Cousin Jane. "I noticed that smell, too, when our barn was struck, and I felt as if pins and needles were sticking in me."

"Gracious! I hope that doesn't happen here!" exclaimed Betty, as she helped Grace light the other lantern. Then the girls looked at one another. From the faces they glanced to the table. Nothing there had been altered, nor had the room changed in appearance.

"Well, I'm glad it's over," said Betty with a sigh of relief. "I was certainly scared at first."

"So was I," admitted Mollie. "I really thought it was—the ghost."

Grace let out a startled cry.

"Stop it!" commanded the Little Captain.

"Well, I wish she wouldn't—blurt it out that way," Grace complained.

"Let's finish the meal," suggested Mollie. "There is some left, and there's no telling when the owner—or owners—may come along. If we've eaten it all up they can't do any more than make us pay for it, which we are perfectly willing to do. But if there's some food still left they might stop us from eating it. So let's begin again, girls."

"I've had all I want," faltered Grace.

"She's sorry because there are no chocolates," laughed Betty.

"No, I'm just too nervous to eat any more," said the tall, willowy one. "Oh, wasn't it awful? Those groans—the clanking of chains——"

"How do you know they were chains?" challenged Betty.

"Well, they sounded like them, anyhow."

"That's what we thought on Elm Island, and you know how that turned out."

"Oh, well, yes; but this is different," protested Grace. "These hollow groans—there they go again!" and she clutched Amy's arm so suddenly that a cracker and herring sandwich the latter was eating went to the floor.

Indeed there did sound through the deserted house a queer, groaning noise, as if some one was in distress. Betty gave voice to this suggestion, saying:

"Oh, girls, I wonder if any one can be—hurt?"

"Well, I'm not going to look!" cried Grace. "Oh, let's get away from this terrible place. I'd rather be out in the storm than here!"

"In that rain?" asked Mollie, as they listened to the down-rush of water. It even drowned the noise of the groans.

"That is only the wind," declared Mrs. Mackson, though she looked over her shoulder apprehensively. "The wind, moaning down an old chimney, or in some broken window, and around a corner—I have often heard it that way."

"You're a comfort, at least," murmured Betty. "But, girls, I really wonder if it could be anyone in trouble? Someone who took refuge in here from the storm, as we did, and who, wandering about, fell and got hurt. That girl, perhaps—the one from the tree——"

She paused, looking about for some support of her theory.

"Nonsense! How could she be here?" asked Mollie.

"Well, it's not very plausible," admitted Betty. "But some one is certainly in this place."

"Don't say that!" cried Grace.

"Don't be silly," advised Betty. "Why, of course some one is here, or has been here. Else how would that food get here? That is not ghostly, at all events. It was very material, and satisfying, and I'm deeply grateful for it. It stands to reason that some one expected to eat it.

"My theory is that some one, traveling perhaps like ourselves, only maybe not in an auto, was overtaken by the storm. More provident than we they had lunch with them, and brought it in here, intending to eat it. Then some accident happened to them, or——"

"The ghost carried them off," interrupted Mollie, with a glance of defiance at Grace, who shuddered, and looked behind her.

"Anyhow they're not here now," went on Betty. "And I don't know but that it is our duty to look for them."

"Never!" breathed Amy.

"At least we can go to the front door, and see if anyone is passing whom we can hail, and ask for help. If we could get a man, now——"

"Or even a good-sized boy," broke in Mollie.

"Yes, even a boy would do," conceded Betty. "We could get him to go with us into the other part of the house. There was where all the manifestations seemed to come from."

"Well, let's go to the front door and look," proposed Cousin Jane. "That can do no harm, and really I don't like to think of anyone being in distress."

"Especially after we've eaten his lunch," put in Grace.

"How do you know but that it is a 'her' and not a 'him'?" asked Mollie.

"Nobody but a man would come in here—after dark."

"But we girls did."

"Oh, look how many of us there are. There is safety in numbers."

"Well, I wouldn't be here if there was any other place to go," declared Grace. "Come on, if we're going," and she moved toward the door, keeping close to Betty meanwhile.

"There must have been some one here, or else how did we see the light which we followed, and which brought us here?" Mollie wanted to know.

"That, too, may have been caused by the lightning," said Cousin Jane.

"You are bound to ascribe everything to nature," objected Mollie. "It's nice of you, but perhaps not correct."

"Well, you know that electricity does queer things," declared the chaperone. "It might easily cause flickering lights, though I'm not saying but that some one has been here—the food proves that."

"Perhaps all the ghost is, after all, is lightning; or some tramp, who has made this his headquarters," said Betty. "Mr. Lagg would be glad to know that."

"We'll tell him," suggested Mollie. "It's a pity, while we are here, that we don't solve the mystery of the haunted house. Of course, strictly speaking, we are not in the mansion proper, but we could go there——"

"Don't you dare!" cried Grace.

They were going along the passage by which they had entered. The rain was not coming down so hard now, and the lightning and thunder were less frequent. The door was swinging to and fro on its hinges, swayed by the wind which blew in gusts up and down the passage.

Mollie was in the rear, carrying one lantern, with Betty in the lead with the other. They had almost reached the outer door, and were eagerly hoping they would see some friendly passer-by when a noise behind her caused Mollie to turn quickly. She saw a tall white object in a proverbially ghostly winding sheet. It had come from a side room.

The thing stretched out two white arms, and hands clutched themselves in Mollie's long hair, which had come loose and was hanging down her back in glorious tresses. Then a snarling voice cried:

"So you've come back; have you! Well, you won't get away from me again! Now you get in there!"

Mollie screamed. The others, adding their startled voices to hers, beheld the white figure catch the frightened girl by the arm, and thrust her into the room. Then the door was slammed shut, a key turned in the lock, while the white figure turned and fled down the passage, as a flash of lightning threw its ghostly outlines into weird relief, and a crash of thunder followed.



CHAPTER XVII

CONSTERNATION

The other girls and Mrs. Mackson stood spellbound for the moment, and then their senses came back to them, and they realized the need of acting at once.

"Mollie! Mollie!" cried Betty. "Where are you? What happened?"

She started back down the hall, but Grace caught her.

"Don't—don't!" Grace pleaded.

"But I must—I shall—Mollie—some one Has taken her—thrust her into that room!"

"Yes—it was the ghost—I saw it!" Grace fairly screamed, "and they'll get you!"

"I don't care if they do! We must go to Mollie. Come, girls, to the rescue!" cried Betty, resolutely.

"But let us get some one to help us first!" insisted Amy. "We ought not to face that—that thing alone!" and she gasped, so rapidly was her heart beating.

"We're not alone!" insisted Betty. "There are four of us, to one—one man."

"How do you know he was a man?" demanded Grace.

"Didn't I hear him speak? It was a man's voice. Some man, for purposes of his own, is masquerading as a ghost, and he probably tried to frighten Mollie and the rest of us to keep up the reputation of the mansion for being haunted. If none of you are going back, I'll go alone!"

Betty started down the hallway, and her example was one of the things needed to infuse courage into the others. Not that Cousin Jane especially needed it, for she had already made up her mind, as had Betty, that something must be done, and that soon.

"Of course we must rescue Mollie!" the chaperone declared, emphatically. "Anyhow, that fellow ran away, after locking her in the room. Come back there."

Rather timidly, it must be confessed, they advanced until they stood before a door. There were several along the hall, opening into various rooms, apparently.

"It was here," said Betty.

"No, this one," declared Mrs. Mackson, indicating another opposite.

Betty turned to Grace and Amy.

"I was too frightened to look," admitted Grace.

"And I didn't see," confessed Amy.

"Well, there's one way to prove it—we'll call," spoke Betty. She raised her voice and cried:

"Mollie! Mollie! Don't be frightened. We haven't deserted you! In which room are you?"

They paused, waiting for what they expected would be a tear-choked answer, but none came.

"Mollie! Mollie!" cried Betty again, her tones trembling now.

Anxiously they waited, but there was no response.

"She isn't there!" gasped Amy. "Oh, Betty!" and she began to cry.

"Hush!" cautioned Mrs. Mackson. "Probably the poor child has fainted, and can't hear us. It's enough to make any one faint. But I'm sure this is the room," and she indicated the one she had pointed out. "We must break down the door and get her."

Not expecting the door to open, she turned the knob, but, to her surprise, the portal swung back, creaking on rusty hinges.

"The light—quick!" the chaperone called to Betty.

The remaining lantern from the auto—one being with Mollie—was flashed into the apartment. It took but a glance to show that it was empty.

"I thought it was this one," said Betty, trying to keep her voice from trembling, as she moved to the door she had insisted was the right one.

She tried half a dozen times. The door was locked.

"She's in—there!" gasped Grace.

Again Betty called aloud, repeating Mollie's name over and over again, but there was no answer.

"Oh—oh, what can have happened?" faltered Amy. "Poor Mollie!"

"At least we know that it was perfectly natural what happened—however mean and unjust it was," declared Betty. "We have to do with natural forces, and——"

Through the old house there once more sounded that mournful groan, chilling the very blood of the girls, and causing them to cling together. Several times were the groans repeated, and then there shone, as if from a distance, a bluish light, and there came the clank of metal.

"Oh—oh!" cried Grace.

"Quiet!" commanded Betty. "Mollie, are you in there?"

The storm had, in a measure, ceased now, and the only sounds from without was the falling of the rain.

"That—that couldn't have been thunder or lightning," said Betty, with a puzzled air.

"It was the wind—that is still blowing," insisted Mrs. Mackson. "Don't be frightened, girls. We must get Mollie out of that room. She has certainly fainted, and when she comes to she will be horribly frightened if we are not with her. Try the door again, Betty."

Betty did so, but it would not give.

"We must break it down!" decided the chaperone, resolutely. "Is there anything we can use?"

"There's a chair in that other room," said Amy, indicating the apartment they had looked in, only to find it untenanted. "We might use that."

"The very thing!" declared Mrs. Mackson. "We'll get it!"

She started for the other room, followed by the others, when Grace cried:

"Hark!"

They listened.

"What is it?" asked Betty.

"The sound of carriage wheels out in the road. And I heard a man's voice speak to his horse."

"Maybe it's the—one who caught Mollie, and he's taking her away," faltered Grace, who seemed to have a faculty of suggesting unpleasant possibilities at the wrong time.

"Then we must stop him!" cried Betty. She turned toward the front door, but a short distance away. The others hurried on after her and saw, out in the road, the dim outlines of a carriage. There was a driving-light on the dashboard, and by its gleam the girls could make out the dark form of a man alighting.

"At least he's not—a ghost!" whispered Amy.

"Help! Oh, please help us!" screamed Grace.

"Hello, there! What's the trouble?" asked a pleasant voice. "I'll be with you in a minute. Whoa there, Jack, old man! Don't get uneasy. Show your light, please, so I can see where you are."

Betty flashed her lantern, and in its rays a man came up the weed-grown path. The girls were almost crying for sheer relief.



CHAPTER XVIII

THE PRISONER

Mollie tumbled in a heap on the floor of the room, into which the white-robed figure had thrust her. She gasped once or twice, for her breath had grown short, not alone from fright—though she admitted that she was terribly scared—but from the rough treatment she had received. Then, as she endeavored to get to her feet in the darkness—for her lantern had fallen from her hand and been extinguished—she fainted, and fell back. Her heavy mass of hair, uncoiled and loose, served as a cushion, and so saved her as she crashed backward.

This much of Mrs. Mackson's theory was correct. Mollie could not answer the frantic calls of her chums, for she was insensible.

How long she remained in this condition she could not afterward tell, but it could not have been for long, since she was strong and healthy, and it was merely a case of overwrought nerves, and a severe mental shock, which did not amount to anything serious.

Poor Mollie heard the ringing of innumerable bells as if from some land beyond the clouds. Queer lights, even in the darkness, seemed to dance before her closed eyes. She felt a pressure, a sense of suffocation—this was the stagnant blood resuming its circulation.

Then consciousness returned so suddenly that it was painful. Mollie raised herself by leaning on her hands and murmured:

"Where am I? What happened? That figure in white—oh, and the girls—Betty—Grace—Amy!" she cried.

But none answered her, for by this time the others were outside watching that very welcome man approach.

Mollie waited, and then, as her thoughts arranged themselves in order in her brain, she began to plan what to do for herself.

"In the first place," she reasoned, "I am not seriously hurt. That fellow, whoever he was, just thrust me into this room. And it was no ghost, either," she went on, as she felt her arm, which she was sure had been bruised by the grasp of the mysterious one. "I'd better make a light, I think. Then I can see where I am. Oh, but what can have happened to the others? I hope he didn't get them, too!"

The thought was terrifying. She dismissed it.

Mollie was a practical girl, as must needs be one who drives an auto. She had pockets—a woeful lack with many—and matches.

It was the work of but a few seconds to set aglow the extinguished lantern, and how Mollie blessed the thought that had prompted taking both side lights with them. Otherwise she would have had to remain in the gloom. The lantern had not broken in the fall, and soon a cheerful glow made the room less gloomy, though it was a large apartment, and there were many flickering shadows, while the corners seemed in total darkness.

"But there's nothing there—can't be," decided Mollie, as she rose to her feet. "I just won't let myself be frightened."

Flashing the light about the room, the girl-prisoner made it out to be a large apartment, void of anything save a few broken sticks of furniture, and a litter of papers. The paper on the walls was mildewed and hanging in strips. There was a damp and musty smell in the place, but—joy of joys to Mollie—no rat holes. The floor was solid, and she could see no openings where the creatures might get in.

"So far—so good," she said aloud, and the sound of her own voice, in a measure, reassured her.

"I wonder had I better call again?" she thought. "Yes, it will be best."

And so she sent out a ringing cry for her chums. But the room had thick walls—the door was a solid one, and, as Betty, Amy, Grace and Mrs. Mackson were having a surprising time of their own just then, they did not hear the appeal.

"I'll have to depend on myself," thought Mollie. "Well, I can do it, I think!"

She paused a moment to gather her thoughts together, and, being a girl of method and order, she began at the beginning.

"In the first place, let me think how I got here," she mused. "Something in white grabbed me, and thrust me here. It was a very human touch—depart the ghost theory. I believe, after all, that Mr. Lagg was right—it is some one trying to make out that this place is haunted in order to get it for a lower price. The food supply proves that, I think.

"Anyhow, here I am—pushed in by some man masquerading as a ghost. That much is certain. And what was it he said, as he caught hold of me—'So you have come back!' That is all I remember. This would seem to indicate that I had been here before, and that he was either expecting me, or wanting me.

"A case of mistaken identity, at all events, for I never should have come back, had I been here before, and that I was never here before is positive. Come, Mollie, we are getting on in this deduction business. Some one mistook me for some one else, and that shows that it is not really me who is wanted. That's good.

"Then, if that's the case, the sooner the mistake is discovered, and rectified, so much the better. I shall be released as soon as that queer man in the winding sheet discovers his error.

"And he ought to do it soon, for he seemed very anxious to get me back, and doubtless he will soon come to find out why I—or the person I am supposed to be—went away."

Then Mollie had another idea. She reasoned this out as she flashed the rays of the lamp about the bare apartment.

"But why should I wait for that man to come back?" she asked herself. "There might be trouble when he discovers that I am not the person he thinks me. He may be angry. And, though doubtless Betty and the others will do all they can for me, I had better see if I can help myself.

"Oh, isn't it all queer? The folks at home will never believe it when we tell them."

Mollie went quickly over the different happenings of the night, and tried to figure out a reason for the various ghostly manifestations. That they were the work of some one endeavoring to depreciate the value of the property, she was certain.

"That man may have hired some girl who looks like me to help him," she thought, "and she may have become afraid, or worried, and left. Then I have to blunder in here, and in the dark he takes her for me. I'm sure that's it."

Then came a change of mood.

"But what is the use of speculating and guessing about it?" Mollie mused. "I had much better see if there is a way out. Oh, joy! A window—two of them!"

She approached the casements, realizing that as she was on the ground floor the sills could not be very high from earth. But though she saw that the catches on the frames were broken, and though she managed to raise one sash, it was with a jolt of disappointment that she saw the windows were heavily barred.

"A regular prison!" gasped Mollie. "This must have been a most peculiar house—barred windows. No wonder people shun it. Ugh! It gives me the creeps."

She flashed her lamp on the wooden sill, into which the iron rods were screwed. Then a wave of hope came into her heart. She saw rotting wood and rusting iron. She pushed on one bar. It gave slightly.

"I can force them out, I'm sure!" she exclaimed aloud. "Oh, for something to use!"

Her light shone around the room—on a pile of broken chairs. She ran and grasped the leg of one. It was heavy and solid.

Mollie placed it between two of the bars, and pried. She was strong, and it did not take all of her muscle to force the ends of the rods from the rotting wood of the sill. A child might have done it. In a moment she had a space sufficiently wide to enable her to get out.

And then she heard a sound out in the road. It was a carriage being driven rapidly.

"Perhaps that man went for some vehicle in which to take me away!" thought the girl, aghast. "I had better not go out! What shall I do? My light! I must put it out, or he'll see me," and she turned the flame of the lantern down, leaving herself in darkness.



CHAPTER XIX

MYSTIFIED

"What can I do for you? What seems to be the trouble?" inquired the man whom Betty and the others had hailed as they rushed to the door of the strange house, and peered out into the darkness.

"We're in a haunted mansion, and the ghost has taken Mollie away!" cried Grace, hysterically. "Please make him give her up. Oh, please do!"

But Betty paid no heed to her chum. Instead she exclaimed:

"Mr. Blackford! It's Mr. Blackford—the man who lost the five hundred dollar bill!"

"What!" cried Amy.

"I certainly am that same Mr. Blackford," answered the young man, "and if these aren't the Outdoor Girls, I miss my guess!"

"That's who we are—all but one of us," spoke Betty. "Oh, it's true. Some one has Mollie a prisoner here! We tried to open the door, but it's locked. Will you come and help us try to batter it down?"

"I certainly will. But what are you doing here? Are you camping?"

"Camping in a haunted house? I guess not!" exclaimed Grace. "The idea! Oh, but it's good to have—a man!"

"Thank you!" laughed Mr. Blackford, who, it will be remembered, was so fortunate as to recover his lost money through the efforts of our heroines, as told in the first volume of this series.

"You—you aren't afraid; are you?" asked Amy.

"Afraid of what?"

"The ghost!"

"Ghost!" and he laughed heartily.

"Well, there really have been some strange goings-on here," said Betty, standing in the doorway with her chums. She looked out at the weather. It was not raining much now, and the thunder and lightning had about ceased.

"Suppose you explain," proposed Mr. Blackford. "I happened to be in this part of the country looking after some of my business interests. I was delayed longer at one place than I expected to be, and got caught in the storm. When I came past this house I thought I would see if I could not be accommodated over night, for my horse was tired and needed stabling. Instead I——"

"You are appealed to to help lay a ghost and find a missing girl," broke in Betty. "But, oh, the last is most important! Please come and get Mollie out!"

"Yes, I guess that is the most important. You can tell me about it later. But I surely was astonished to meet you girls again—glad of it, though. Now for the prisoner. Lead the way, Miss Nelson."

Flashing her lantern, the other girls keeping at her side, and Cousin Jane bringing up in the rear, Betty advanced to the locked door. Mr. Blackford tried the knob, and then called:

"Stand back, whoever is in there. I'm going to burst this door open!"

Grace cried out.

"Quiet!" commanded Betty. "It is the only way."

Mr. Blackford placed his shoulder down near the lock. There was a cracking and splintering of wood, and the door suddenly flew open with a crash.

"Mollie! Mollie!" cried Betty, as she flashed the rays of her lamp inside.

But the room was empty! Mystified, the girls, their chaperone and Mr. Blackford, stared about it. No Mollie was there!

"But I'm sure she was thrust into this room by that figure in white," declared Betty. "We all saw it."

"Are you sure?" asked Mr. Blackford, slowly.

"Positive. She was put in this room for some unknown purpose, and she can't have gotten out, for we have been in the hall all the while, and the door was locked."

"There is the window," said Mr. Blackford, as he took the lantern from Betty. Walking over to the casement he uttered an exclamation, as he saw the bent bars.

"This explains it!" he cried. "She has escaped!"

"Or else the—the ghost—came in here and took her away," faltered Amy.

"Well, we'll have a look about outside," suggested the young man. "There may be marks that will aid us, especially as the ground is soft now."

They all went outside. The rain was but a mere drizzle now. The fury of the storm had passed, and the night was becoming calm. The old house, and the mansion beyond it, which could now be seen dimly back of a fringe of trees, was silent and seemingly deserted, even by the ghost. There were no more queer blue flames, no more hollow groans and clanking noises.

"I didn't think to look and see if the other auto lamp was in that room where poor Mollie was," said Grace. "Did you?"

"Yes," spoke Betty. "I looked. It was gone."

"We had better not all go under that window at once," suggested Mr. Blackford, as they neared the casement with the bent bars. "Let me go alone, with the light, and I'll see if I can make out any footprints."

Carefully he examined, and then he gave a joyful exclamation.

"It's all right!" he cried. "There are the marks of but one person's shoes, and they are your friend's, I'm sure—for they are small. It plainly shows where she let herself down out of the window."

"Oh, how glad I am!" cried Betty. "But where is she now? Can you tell which way she went?"

"Only for a short distance," answered Mr. Blackford, as he flashed the rays of the lamp to and fro. "Then comes grass, and I am not sufficiently good on the trail to track a person over grass. However, we are sure of one thing—that she got out of the room herself, and ran off. She was not carried away."

"That is everything," murmured Grace. "Oh, what a relief!"

"But where can she be now?" asked Betty, in bewilderment. "Why did she not come back to us?"

"Probably she thought you, too, had left the place," suggested Mr. Blackford. "We must make further search. But suppose you tell me all that happened. I am interested in this—ghost."

The girls told all that had occurred—told it in gasps—by exclamations—by "fits and starts," as Betty expressed it. At first Mr. Blackford was amused—then he was more interested—finally he was impressed.

"I don't like this," he said, when he had been informed of the failure of Mr. Lagg to dispose of the property because of the "ghostly" manifestations. "It looks to me as though some trick was being perpetrated here. Possibly something more than a trick. There may be crimes contemplated. The authorities should be notified.

"Of course I don't believe in ghosts—neither do you—and, from what you say, it must have been a very human one who caught Miss Billette. But she is our most important consideration now. We must find her! We must search outside, for clearly she is not in the house, though it will do no harm to take another look."

"Go back there!" cried Grace, aghast.

"Why not?" asked Betty, coolly. "You forget we have a man with us now."

"Certainly we'll go back there and look," spoke Mrs. Mackson, in business-like tones. "Though I don't believe Mollie would go back, unless it was to look for us. And how can she have gone in without us seeing her?"

"There may be many entrances to an old, rambling place like this," said Mr. Blackford. "It will do no harm to look about in it again, and then we can search up and down the road."

Rather gingerly the girls entered the old house again. The light was flashed in all the rooms downstairs, but the girls balked at going to the upper floors, though Mr. Blackford proposed it.

"Mollie would not go up there," said Betty, positively.

"Perhaps not," admitted Mr. Blackford.

"I think we ought to go back to where we left the auto," said Mrs. Mackson. "That would be the most likely place for Mollie to go."

"I agree with you!" exclaimed the young man, quickly. "We'll go to the stalled auto."

As they were leaving the place there burst upon them a shrill, weird cry, like that of some animal, and it was followed by that deep groan that vibrated through the vacant rooms.

"The ghost! The ghost!" cried Grace, clutching Mr. Blackford's arm.



CHAPTER XX

SEEKING THE GHOST

They all stood still for a moment. The eerie noises gradually died away, and then they all became conscious of a strong smell of sulphur.

"What is that?" asked Betty, in an awed whisper. She was more impressed than she had been.

"Smells as if some one had lighted old-fashioned brimstone matches," answered Mr. Blackford.

"And it isn't the lightning, now," spoke Amy, looking at Mrs. Mackson. "It's the—ghost."

"A very material ghost, in my opinion," said the young man, who had so providentially come along. "I'm going to find out who it is."

He started toward the passage that led to the mansion.

"Don't you dare leave us here alone!" cried Betty, half tragically. Mr. Blackford looked at her a moment, and then added quietly:

"Well, perhaps it will be better to postpone the investigation. And there is your missing friend. But I would like to know who has an object in doing this. I think Mr. Lagg would like to know, also."

Once more the mysterious house was in silence, and with a last look around at the mildewed walls, the girls and Mrs. Mackson preceded Mr. Blackford out of it.

"I'll get your secret yet!" exclaimed the young man, as he turned to look at the strange habitation. "Now, where did you leave the auto?"

Fortunately, Betty had a good sense of direction and could lead the way, flashing her lamp at intervals. Mr. Blackford had proposed that some of the girls wait while he drove one of them to the stalled car in his carriage, it holding but two. But the girls refused to consider this, wishing to stay together.

"And, too," said Betty, "we might miss poor Mollie on the way."

"That is so," he had agreed. So they tramped along the muddy road, making the turn on to the main highway, and then, when Betty was about to remark that they must be near the car, Grace cried out.