The Phantom Town Mystery

Etta, remaining in the car, called, “Good morning” to the girls. Jerry explained, “I haven’t told Etta the whole story, just the part about Little Bodil and the rock house. She was so interested, I told her we’d be glad to have her go with us.”

Mary smiled at him rather wistfully, Dora thought. Then she walked to the side of the car and said, “Won’t you get out, Etta, while we read the letter?”

Jerry, who had followed her, said, “Dick wanted us to wait till we got to the rock house before we read the letter. Can you girls go now?”

“Yes, I’ll get my hat.” Mary turned to go indoors. Dora went with her and they were back almost at once to find Jerry beside Etta, with Dick waiting to help Dora to her usual place in the rumble.

Harry, his rather thin face alight with pleasure, took Mary’s arm and, giving it a slight pressure, exclaimed in a low voice, “The gods are kind! I hardly dared hope that your old friends would let me have you today. I’ve thought of you every minute since I left you last night.”

Mary, seated at his side in the small car, turned serious eyes toward him. “Harry,” she said almost pleadingly, “please don’t talk to me that way. I – I’d rather you wouldn’t.”

An expression of sadness for a moment put out the eager light in his eyes, then, good sportsman that he was, he said, “Very well, Mary. I think I understand.”

After that his conversation was interesting, but general, until they reached the towering rock gate where Jerry’s car was standing, waiting.

“What a lonely, awesome spot this is!” Harry exclaimed.

“If you think this is awesome,” Mary laughed, “wait until we pass through those gates.”

Jerry climbed out, helped Etta, then turned to call, “Don’t get off the road, Harry. The sand’s so soft we’d have a time pulling you out.”

Dora and Dick leaped from the rumble and were joined by Mary and Harry. “We walk the rest of the way,” Dick told the air scout, “and believe me it’s hard going.”

Mary glanced ahead, saw Jerry assisting Etta as in former times he had assisted her when her feet sank ankle deep in the soft, white sand. Harry gallantly took her arm to aid her. Mary smiled at him wanly. “Thank you,” she said. “I wish I were the self-reliant athletic type like Dora. She never needs help.”

Harry bit his lip to keep from saying aloud what he thought. Before he could think of something else to say, Dick looked back and called to him, “Were you ever any place where there was such a deathlike stillness as there is in this small walled-in spot?”

Harry shook his head. “Never!” he replied. Then, glad of the interruption, he asked, “That’s the rock house, up there, isn’t it?”

Dick nodded. “That’s where the poor old fellow they called ‘Lucky Loon’ buried himself alive, if there’s any truth in the yarn.”

“Believe me, that would take more courage than I’ve got,” Harry declared with a shudder.

Jerry, glancing back, and finding that he and Etta were quite far ahead, turned and waited, still holding his companion’s arm.

Etta’s intelligent face never had seemed more attractive to Mary. The melancholy expression, which the girls had noticed, especially, the day they had called upon her, had vanished. Her eyes were bright with interest.

They walked on in a close group. “I’m simply wild to know what’s in the letter Little Bodil translated,” Dora exclaimed.

Dick laughed. “I suppose we will call that dignified Sister Theresa ‘Little Bodil’ till the end of time,” he said.

When they reached the foot of the leaning rock, which had one time been the stairway to the rock house, they gathered about Jerry who was opening the yellowed envelope. Intense interest and excitement was expressed in each face.

Sister Theresa had written a liberal translation between the almost faded lines of her dead brother’s letter.

“Dear Little Bodil —

“In my heart I feel you are alive. I have hunted all over Arizona, New Mexico and across the border. No one has heard of you. I can’t search any longer.

“Before I die I want to tell you where my gold is. Silas Harvey will tell you where my rock house is. Secret entrance – ”

Jerry paused and looked in dismay at the interested listeners.

“What’s up?” Dick asked.

“The old writing was so faded Sister Theresa couldn’t make it out.”

“How terrible!” Dora cried. “How to get into the rock house is the very thing we need to know.”

“Well, at least we know there is a secret entrance,” Mary told them. “Isn’t there any more of the translation, Jerry?”

The cowboy had turned a page. He nodded. “Yes, here’s something but I reckon it won’t help much. There are only a few words.” He read, “Find money – walled in – turquoise eye.” Jerry looked from one to the other and said, “That’s all. Doesn’t help out much, does it?”

Mary took the letter. “Here’s a note at the bottom. Sister Theresa wrote, ‘I am sorry I could not make out the entire message. I do hope this much will aid you in finding the money if it has not been stolen.’”

“Well,” Dick was looking along the base of the almost perpendicular cliff on which the rock house stood, “I vote we start in hunting for a secret entrance.”

“O. K.,” Harry said. “Let’s divide our forces, one going to the right and the other to the left.”

Jerry, as though it were the natural thing to do, said to Etta, “Shall we go this way?”

Mary turned and started in the opposite direction. Harry was quick to follow her. Dora and Dick remained standing directly under the rock house. Dora said, “I’m puzzled! Not about the secret entrance but about Mary and Jerry.”

“Oh, that’ll come out all right.” It was plain that Dick wasn’t giving romance much thought, for he added, “I’m going in between the main cliff and this broken off piece.”

Dora, going to his side, peered into the crack. The winds of many years had blown sand into it. She was surprised to see Dick start pulling the sand away from the wall.

“Have you a hunch?” she asked with interest.

“No, not really,” he told her. Then remarked, “Wish I had a shovel.”

“You may have one,” Dora said, “if you want to go back to the road. I saw a shovel and an axe fastened under the Deputy Sheriff’s car.”

Jerry and Etta, having found nothing, were returning.

“What are you uncovering, Dick?” the cowboy called.

“Say, fetch a shovel, will you?” was the answer he received. “Dora says there’s one under the ‘Dep’s’ car.”

“Righto.” The cowboy’s long legs carried him rapidly toward the rock gate. He had returned with the shovel just as Mary and Harry came up. They had found nothing that could possibly be a secret entrance.

“What’s your reasoning, Dick, old man?” Jerry asked as he handed him the shovel.

“Well, there’s something here that caught and held the sand,” Dick replied. “It may not be what we’re looking for but I’m curious to know what it is.”

CHAPTER XXX

SECRET ENTRANCE TO THE ROCK HOUSE