The Phantom Town Mystery

by Carol Norton

  CHAPTER V POOR LITTLE BODIL

  Old Mr. Harvey was dozing in a tilted armchair close to his stove. He satup with a start when his discordant-toned bell rang, and blinked into thehalf-darkness near the door. The smoked chimney on his hanging kerosenelamp in the middle of the room and near the ceiling did little toillumine the place. When he saw who his visitors were, he gave his queercackling laugh, "Wall, I'll be dinged ef I wa'n't a dreamin' I was backin holdup days and that some of them thar bandits was bustin' in to cleanout my stock." Then, as he rose, almost creakingly, he said,disparagingly, as he glanced about at the dust and cobweb-coveredshelves, "Not as how they'd find onythin' _now_ worth the totin' away."

  Having, by that time, gone around back of his long counter, he peeredthrough misty spectacles at Mary. "Is thar suthin' I could be gettin' feryo', Little Miss?" he asked.

  Jerry stepped forward and placed a half dollar on the counter. "Stamps,please, Mr. Harvey," he said. "I reckon that's all we're wanting tonight,thanks."

  The cowboy put the stamps in his pocket, dropped his mother's letter in aslot, and turned, as though he were about to leave, but Mary detained himwith:

  "Oh, Jerry, you don't have to hurry away, do you? I thought," her sweetappealing smile turned toward the old man, "that perhaps Mr. Harvey mightbe willing to tell us a story if we stayed awhile."

  "Sho' as shootin'!" the unkempt old man seemed pleased indeed to walkinto Mary's trap. "Yo' set here, Little Miss." It was his own chair bythe stove he was offering.

  "No, indeed!" Mary protested. "That one just fits you. Jerry and Dick arebringing some in from the porch."

  The boys sat on the counter. The girls, trying to hide triumphant smiles,drew their chairs close to the stove. Old Mr. Harvey put in anotherstick. Then, chewing on an end of gray whisker, he peered over hisglasses at Mary a moment, before asking, "Was thar anythin' special yo'wanted to hear tell about?"

  Mary leaned forward, her pretty face animated: "Oh, yes, Mr. Harvey. Thisafternoon Dora and I saw that small stone house that's built so it'salmost hidden on a cliff of the mountains. Can you tell us anything aboutthe man who built it; _why_ he did it and what became of him?"

  The old man's shaggy brows drew together thoughtfully. He seemed tohesitate. Mary glanced at Dora, who said with eager interest, "Oh, _thatwould_ be a thrilling story, I'm sure. I'd just love to hear it."

  Wisely the boys, who were not in the line of the old man's vision, saidnothing. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten their presence.

  The storekeeper was silent for so long, staring straight ahead of him atthe stove, that the girls thought they, also, had been forgotten. Thensuddenly he looked up and smiled toothlessly at Mary, nodding his grizzlyhead many times before he spoke.

  "Wall," he said at last, almost as though he were speaking to an unseenpresence, "I reckon Sven Pedersen wouldn't want to hold me to secrecy nolonger--thirty year back 'tis, sence he--" suddenly he paused and held upa bony, shaky hand. "You didn't hear no gun shot, did you?"

  The girls had heard nothing. They glanced almost fearfully up at theboys. Jerry shook his head and put a finger to his lips.

  The girls understood that he thought it wise that the old man continue toforget their presence.

  "Wall, I reckon the wind's risin' an' suthin' loose banged. Thar's plentyloose, that's sartin." Then, turning rather blankly toward Mary, he askedin a child-like manner, "What was we talkin' about?"

  Mary drew her chair closer and smiled confidingly at him. "You were goingto tell us, Mr. Harvey, _why_ Mr. Pedersen built that rock house and--"

  "Sho'! Sho'! So I was. It was forty year last Christmas he come toGleeson. A tall, skinny fellar he was, not so very old nor so youngneither. It was an awful blizzardy night an' thar wa'n't nobody at allout in the streets. I was jest reckonin' as how I'd turn in, when thedoor bust open an' the wind tore things offen the shelves. I had to helpget it shet. Then I looked at what had blown in. He looked like a fellarthat was most starved an' more'n half crazy. His palish blue eyes waswild. I sot him down in this here chair by the fire an' staked him tosome hot grub. I'd seen half-starved critters eat. He snapped at the grubjest that-a-way. When he'd et till I reckoned as how he'd bust, he sankdown in that chair an' dod blast it, ef he didn't start snorin', an' hehadn't sed nothin', nohow. Wall, I seen as how he wa'n't goin' to wake,so I lay down on my bunk wi' my clothes on, sort o' sleepin' wi' one eyeopen, not knowin' what sort of a loon I was givin' shelter to.

  "The blizzard kep' on all the next day an' the next. Not a gol-darnedsoul come to the store, so me'n' and him had plenty o' time to get toknowin' each other.

  "Arter he'd drunk some hot coffee, he unloosed his tongue, though what hesed was so half-forrin, I wa'n't quick to cotch onto his meanin's.

  "The heft o' his yarn was like this. He an' his little sister, Bodil, henamed her, had come from Denmark to New York. Thar he'd picked up some o'Ameriky's way o' talking, an' enuf money to git West. Some Danish fellarhad tol' him about these here rich-quick mines, so he'd took a stage an'fetched Bodil."

  The old man paused, and Mary, leaning forward, put her hand on his arm."Oh, Mr. Harvey, tell us about that little girl. How old was she and whathappened to her?"

  The old man's head shook sadly. "Bad enuf things happened to her, Ireckon. She must o' been a purty little critter. Chiny blue eyes, SvenPedersen sed she had, an' hair like yellar cornsilk when it fust comesout. She was the apple o' his eye. The only livin' thing he keered for. Isho' was plumb sorry fer him."

  "But _do_ tell us what happened to her?" Mary urged, fearing that the oldman's thought was wandering.

  "Wall, 'pears like the stage was held up on a mount'in road nigh here;the wust road in the country hereabouts. Thar wa'n't no passengers butSven Pedersen an' Little Bodil; the long journey bein' about to an end.That thar blizzard was a threatenin' an' the stage driver was hurryin'his hosses, hopin' to get over the mountain afore it struck, when up rodethree men. One of 'em shot the driver, another of 'em dragged out a bagof gold ore; then they fired over the hosses' heads. Skeered and rarin',them hosses plunged over the cliff, an' down that stage crashed into thewust gulch thar is in these here parts.

  "Sven saw his little sister throwed out into the road. Then, as the stagekeeled over, he jumped an' cotched onto some scrub tree growin' out o'the cliff. It tuk him a long spell to climb back to the road. He wasloony wild wi' worryin' about Little Bodil. He ran to whar he'd seen herthrowed out. _She wa'n't thar._ He hunted an' called, but thar wa'n't noanswer. Then he reckoned as how that thar third bandit had whirled backan' carried her off."

  "Oh, Mr. Harvey, how terrible!" There were tears in Mary's eyes. "Wasn'tshe _ever_ found?"

  The old man shook his head sadly. "Sven Pedersen follered them banditsafoot all night an' nex' day but they was a horseback an' he couldn'teven get sight o' them. Then the blizzard struck an' he staggered inhere, bein' as he saw my light. Arter that he went prospectin' all aroundthese here mount'ins an' he struck it rich. That cliff, whar he built hima rock house, was one of his claims."

  "I suppose he never stopped hunting for poor Little Bodil." Mary's voicewas tender with sympathy.

  "Yo' reckon right, little gal. Whenever Sven Pedersen heerd tell of aholdup anywhar in the state, he'd join the posse that was huntin' 'em butit warn't no use, nohow. Bodil was plumb gone. Sven Pedersen never madeno friend but me. His palish blue eyes allays kept that wild look, an',as time went on an' he piled up gold an' turquoise, he got to be dubbed'Lucky Loon.'"

  The old man paused and started to nod his shaggy gray head so many timesthat Dora, fearing he would nod himself to sleep, asked, "Mr. Harvey,_what_ was his Evil Eye Turquoise?"

  "Hey?" The old man glanced up suspiciously. "So yo'd heerd tell about_that_." Then he cackled his queer, cracked laugh. "I heerd about it, butI'd allays reckoned thar wa'n't no sech thing. I cal'lated Sven Pedersenmade up that thar yarn to keep folks from climbin' up ter his rock housean' stealin' hi
s gold an' turquoise, if be that's whar he kept it. Ireckon as how that's the heft o' _that_ yarn an' yet, I dunno, I dunno.Mabbe thar was suthin' to it. Mabbe thar was."

  "Oh, Mr. Harvey, we'd like awfully well to hear the story whether it'strue or not, unless," Mary said solicitously, "unless you're too sleepyto tell it."

  The old man sat up and opened his eyes wide. "Sleepy, _me_ sleepy? Neverwas waked up more! Wall, this here is the heft of that tale."