Billie Bradley and Her Classmates: or, The Secret of the Locked Tower

“We don’t know what’s in there,” she protested, but Teddy refused to listen to her.

“We don’t know and we don’t care,” he informed her, masterfully, adding as she still hung back: “We’ll freeze to death out there, anyway.”

“But, Ted, suppose some wild animal should be in there? You know that bears hide in hollow trees and caves – ”

“Bears sleep most of the winter. Besides, I don’t think there are any bears around here.”

“But there might be a – a fox, or a wildcat.”

“I’ll take a chance on that. You must remember, the average wild beast will get out of your way if you give it half a chance. Come on. As I said before, if you stay out here, in this icy wind, you’ll surely freeze to death.”

This argument appealed to her, and, with a shivering look over her shoulder at the desert of whiteness behind, she stepped gingerly into the blackness of the cave.

Then with a little nervous giggle she ran back again, got behind Teddy and pushed him before her.

“Gentlemen first!” she said. “Anyway you’re bigger than I am, Ted.”

So Teddy, feeling as important as a boy always feels when he is protecting a girl that he likes, walked boldly into the cave, stretching a hand behind him for Billie to cling to.

“Come on, it’s all right,” he assured her. “You’ll get used to the darkness in a minute. The snow blinds you. Ouch! What was that?”

Billie gave a little choked scream and would have run out into the open again, had not Teddy’s grip on her hand prevented.

“Don’t get scared,” the boy said, and bent over to examine whatever it was he had stubbed his toe against. “I didn’t mean to yell like that, but, gosh, that thing did give my toe an awful wallop! I say, look at this!” and he held up an object that shone wanly white against the blackness of the cave.

Billie, whose eyes had become a little accustomed to the darkness, saw that what Teddy held looked like an old, broken water pitcher.

“A pitcher,” she said, adding disgustedly: “And that was what I was afraid of.”

At the entrance, this queer hole in the mountain had been so low that the two had been forced to stoop down to avoid knocking their heads on the roof of it. But now, as they felt their way cautiously, they found to their surprise that they could stand upright. The walls also seemed to have widened out and they realized with a thrill of excitement that they were in a real cave, dug into the side of the mountain.

In here it was darker than it had been at the entrance, and they had to feel their way about cautiously to avoid colliding with each other or the walls of the cave.

It was surprisingly warm and snug in there also, for the thick snow wrapped them in the warmest and fleeciest of blankets, and the only place for old Jack Frost to come in was the narrow entrance of the cave.

And once assured that the owner of the cave, whether man or animal, was at that moment not at home, Billie began to feel a sense of exquisite comfort. Her teeth had ceased to chatter, they were safe from the bitter north wind, and she had Teddy to take care of her. What more could any girl want?

As for Teddy, he had evidently found something over in one corner of the cave that interested him immensely. He had stumbled by accident over what seemed to be a pile of old junk, and now he was down on his hands and knees trying to satisfy his curiosity by the sense of touch.

“Now aren’t I the idiot!” he exclaimed suddenly, and Billie started at the sudden sound of his voice in the darkness. “Here I go feeling around like a blind man when I have some perfectly good matches in my pocket. Come on over, Billie, and see what I’ve found.”

Guided by the flare of a match, Billie made her way across the cave and kneeled down beside the boy. Then they both stared in utter amazement at what they saw.

Heaped up carelessly in the corner was a mass of so many and such queerly assorted articles that it is no wonder the boy and girl were puzzled.

There was an old alarm clock, rusty with age and disuse, a mirror, several gaudy articles of jewelry that looked as if they might have been found in ten-cent prize packages, a telephone receiver, a broken fishing rod that stood lamely against the wall as though ashamed of its own decrepit state, a sawdust doll, an empty tin can that evidently had once contained bait, a talcum powder box full of scented violet talc – Billie smelled it – and – but it would take too long to name all the strange things that Billie and Teddy found there in the corner of the funny little cave.

“Teddy,” murmured Billie as the boy’s match burnt out and he struck another one, “what do you think these things are for? Who do you suppose owns them?”

“How should I know?” asked Teddy, getting to his feet and looking eagerly about the place, illumined fitfully by the flare of the match. “Somebody comes here often, that’s a sure thing. And judging by those things,” he waved toward the conglomeration of junk in the corner, “he must be pretty simple.”

“Oh, Teddy!” breathed Billie, moving closer to him. “Suppose he should come and find us here?”

Teddy looked down at her with a grin.

“Why worry?” he asked. “Haven’t you got your Uncle Ted?”

He had scarcely spoken when there came a terrifying sound. It was a snarl of rage, half-animal, half-human.

The half-burned match dropped from Teddy’s fingers. They were in the dark.

CHAPTER XI – THE SIMPLETON

Billie did not cry out. She was either too frightened or too brave. But the next minute Teddy’s arm had reached out and caught her to him reassuringly.

“It’s all right,” he whispered in her ear. “Just hold tight and keep still. I’ll do the talking.”

Cautiously he drew her to the back of the cave, and there they turned and waited for whatever was to happen. They did not have to wait long.

Some one or something was coming into the cave. There was a growling and muttering in the tunnel-like entrance and the sounds increased as the intruder came slowly nearer.

Then there came a stumbling sound, followed by a coarse oath that made Billie clap her hands to her ears.

“It’s a man, anyway,” Teddy whispered, adding maliciously: “Stubbed his toe on that old pitcher, I guess. Glad of it.”

“Oh, Teddy, hush,” whispered Billie frantically. “He’ll hear you.”

Evidently the intruder had heard them. He stopped short as though listening. Billie and Teddy could distinctly hear his heavy breathing while they held their own.

Then a hoarse, strident voice challenged them.

“Who are ye?” it cried, menacingly. “Whoever y’are ye’ve got to git out. I’ll teach ye to go breakin’ into my cave and meddlin’ with my things. Come out o’thet, will ye?”

For answer, Teddy lighted a match, holding it high above his head while he studied the intruder. The latter, evidently startled by the sudden light, staggered back a little and flung his hand before his eyes.

The advantage was all Teddy’s, and for a moment it looked as though he would fling himself upon the little man who stood cowering there. But he hesitated, and while he hesitated the match burned out in his fingers and they were left in the dark once more.

“Light another match, Teddy – quick,” whispered Billie, and he did.

This time the man lowered his hands from before his eyes and stood blinking at them foolishly. He was so small and so slight and so puny looking in every way that the gruff voice with which he had greeted them in the beginning seemed little short of ridiculous.

And while they stared at the little man and the little man stared at them, Teddy’s third match went out.

“Gosh,” said he, groping in his pocket for another. “I only hope they hold out, that’s all. I’d hate to be left in the dark.”

He found a match and lit it rather shakily, for the whole thing was beginning to get on his nerves. And as the uncertain light flared out once more he saw that their queer new friend was holding something out to him.

“Don’t touch it,” whispered Billie at his elbow. “It might be – ”