The Haunted Fountain

by Margaret Sutton

  CHAPTER XVIII

  The Haunted Tower

  What happened immediately after her daring plunge into the roaringwater Judy never knew. She held her breath as it struck her full forceand sucked her under. Blackness and a heavy weight closed over her.

  A moment later she was fighting, struggling and kicking, not knowingwhich way was up. The water seemed to be knocking her about as if shewere a rag doll. She felt no pain when her body slapped againstsomething hard and was then washed away from it.

  “The base of the fountain!” she thought.

  That meant she was through the worst of it. She could see nothing, butshe could feel the hard cement base the next time the force of thewater threw her against it. Doubling herself up and then giving atremendous push away from it, she was again at the mercy of the foamingspray. Fighting, fighting, she came at last to the surface of the waterand gulped a breath of fresh air.

  “How did I get way out here?” she wondered, opening her eyes andblinking in the unexpected sunshine. To her surprise, she was alreadyhalfway across the pool that surrounded the main fountain. She had beenfighting and thrashing around in the water without realizing that shewas swimming. Now it seemed too much of an effort. She still had topass the stone lions.

  “They’re roaring at me,” she thought unreasonably.

  She tried to swim around the cold shower from the lion’s mouth, but nowthe roaring noise grew louder, and she realized it must be inside herown head.

  “I’m hurt! I can’t swim another stroke!” one part of her seemed to besaying.

  But another part of her mind kept urging, “You must swim! You must gethelp! Horace and Dick Hartwell are still down there in the tunnel withthe water pouring in! You must hurry, hurry and turn off the fountain!”

  The sight of the tower encouraged her. It did not seem so far away.Once she was out of the water she had only to run a short distance andturn whatever had to be turned.

  “How will I know?” she wondered.

  The sickening thought came to her that she knew nothing of pipes andvalves and would have no idea what to turn. It made her feel weak.“It’s no use,” she told herself. “I won’t know!”

  “You must know! Hurry, hurry!” the second voice inside her persisteduntil finally she struck out with a few long strokes that took herquickly to the edge of the pool. Pulling herself up with a final,determined effort, she cupped her hands and shouted hoarsely, “I madeit, Horace! I’m—all—right!”

  But was she? It had hurt her to call. It even hurt to breathe. She hadheld her breath for so long that now it was easier not to let it out. Agreat weight seemed to be sitting on her chest. Her whole body wasstiff and numb with cold. Her torn clothing seemed to be plastered toit. She shook herself like a wet puppy and tilted her head first oneway and then another to get rid of the roaring in her ears. Hearing noanswer to her call, she called again.

  “This is Judy! I got through! Can you hear me down there? Are you allright?”

  Still she could hear nothing but the roaring of the fountain with itsstone lions glaring angrily at her and spitting out foam.

  “I got through it!” she cried, her voice cracking with the effort. “Canyou hear me?”

  “Hear you!” sounded faint and far away as if it came from the fountainitself.

  “The spirit!” whispered Judy. It gave her a shivery feeling ofexcitement. The fountain, in spite of its terrors, was still beautiful.It was hard to imagine Horace trapped under it. “That must be hisvoice,” she told herself. “I know who the spirit is this time, but whowas it the other time so long ago?”

  She couldn’t just sit beside the pool wondering. Pulling herself to herfeet, she found it hurt her to stand. And yet she must hurry to thetower and turn off the water before it was too late.

  “Is Dick all right?” she shouted, and the shout came back like an echo.

  “All—right!”

  Was it an echo? Judy did not know and decided not to take time to findout. Time was precious. She couldn’t waste it, and yet, oh, how it hurther when she tried to walk! It felt as if she had icicles attached toher body instead of legs. And yet she must move them. She must makeherself do it.

  “Hurry! Hurry!” she whispered as if the words were enough to speed heralong the path to the tower. She ran stiffly with a limp that grewworse as she neared the tall stone edifice.

  “It mustn’t be locked!” she cried. “That would be too cruel.”

  She found the lock broken and the great door sagging on rusty hingesthat creaked as she opened it. Inside there was nothing except a great,gloomy round room that looked as if it had been built on purpose tohouse witches and owls and bats. She even fancied she could hear themfluttering. It reminded her of a giant bell tower only, instead of abell, she looked up to see a huge tank supported by steel girders.

  Was the thing she had to turn up there? The tank could be reached bynarrow, wooden steps that wound up and up until, near the top, therewas only a ladder.

  “This is the end!” thought Judy. “I can never climb it.”

  But would it be necessary to climb all the way up to the tank in orderto turn off the fountain? A steady, whispering noise drew her attentionto what looked like an electric motor with a switch above it. Not atall sure what would happen, she reached up and turned off the switch.

  “Now what have I done?” she asked herself as the whole tower shudderedand sighed. A moan came from the great storage tank overhead. Not onlythe fountain, but the tower, too, seemed to be haunted.

  The whispering and moaning continued for less than a minute. Thesilence that followed let Judy breathe again. The electric motor wasstill.

  “I did it!” she thought with sudden elation. But was shutting off themotor enough? “If this is an electric pump then it probably pumps waterinto that big storage tank overhead,” she reasoned, “and if the tank isstill full it will continue to pour water into the tunnel until itempties itself, and that may be too late!”

  Judy was seized with the fear that already it was too late to save DickHartwell. But Horace could swim. He might keep himself from drowninguntil he reached the entrance under the cupids, but he could never divethrough the cascade as she had done. Somehow, she must turn off thefountain.

  “Is this the right valve?” she wondered.

  She had discovered a number of pipes leading down from the tank. Pipesalways confused her. Several of them had valves that she could turn.None of the valves were marked. A mistake might be costly, butindecision was worse. Judy began turning off all the valves she couldfind, one after the other.

  “That ought to do it.” In the excitement of turning the valves she hadforgotten her cold and discomfort. Now she was eager to get out of thegloomy tower and into the sunshine. But just as she was about to leaveshe discovered still another pipe ending in a plunger marked: DRAIN.

  “That’s it!” she cried, and her voice echoed back to confirm herfeeling that now she had made the tunnel safe for her brother and thepoor, hurt prisoner, Dick Hartwell. “This must drain the pool,” shereasoned as she lifted the plunger. “Now they’ll be—safe!”

  After it was done she sank against the stone wall exhausted, but stillwith the feeling that there was something urgent that she had to do.

  “I must go back to the fountain and help Horace,” she told herself, butshe was too weak to make the effort. Her eyes closed, but in anothermoment they flew open. Someone was shaking her roughly by the shoulderand shouting, “What’s the big idea, you? You’ve shut off all the waterin the house! What’re you doing here, anyway?”

  “The water? The house?” Judy tried to collect her thoughts, but all shecould think of was the fountain with the water still pouring into thetunnel out of the broken pipe. She was there again, shivering in theicy cold water. But it didn’t matter any more. All she could say was,“I’m cold. Go away! Let me sleep!”

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