The Phantom Town Mystery

by Carol Norton

  CHAPTER XVI SEARCHING FOR CLUES

  The four young people in the loft listened as Mr. Newcomb closed the gateto the hen-yard, then, when they heard him leaving, Jerry said, "I reckonwe're alone now, so let's get ahead with the box opening ceremony."

  "Oh, Big Brother," Mary, quite recovered from her recent fright,exclaimed. "Let's make a _real ceremony_ of it, shall we? Let's kneel onthe floor; you boys at the sides and we girls at the ends. There now,let's all lift at once and together."

  "Wait!" Dora cried, detaining them. "Just to add to the suspense, let'seach tell what we expect to find in the box."

  Mary looked across at her friend vaguely. "Why, I'm sure I don't know.What do _you_ hope that we'll find, Jerry?"

  "I reckon what we _want_ to find is something that will help us locateLittle Bodil," the cowboy replied.

  "And yet," Dick put in wisely, "since Little Bodil was thrown from thestage coach forty years ago, how can _anything_ that was already _in_ hertrunk prove to us whether she was devoured by wild animals or carriedaway by bandits?"

  "Oh-oo!" Mary shuddered. "I don't know _which_ would be worse."

  Dora was agreeing with Dick. "You're right of course," she saidthoughtfully, "but, nevertheless I've a hunch that we'll find somethingthat will, in some roundabout way, prove to us whether Little Bodil isdead or alive."

  "Now, if _that's_ settled, let the ceremony proceed," Jerry announced. Inthe dim lantern light Mary's fair face and Dora's olive-tinted glowedwith excited animation as they took hold of the trunk ends.

  The top, however, did not come off as readily as they had anticipated.The many winter storms and the burning summer heat to which the box hadbeen exposed had warped the cover, binding it tight. Jerry, glancingabout the room, found a broken tool which he could use as a wedge. Withit he loosened the cover. Then it was easily removed.

  The first emotion was one of disappointment. The small trunk containedlittle, nothing at all, the young people decided, that could beconsidered as a clue. There was a plaid woolen dress for a child of abouteight or ten and the coarsest of home-made underwear, knit stockings anda small pair of carpet slippers with patched soles.

  A hand-carved wooden doll, in a plaid dress, which evidently had beenmade by the child, had been lovingly wrapped in a small red shawl.Lastly, tied up in a quilted blue bonnet with the strings, was a carvedwooden bowl and spoon.

  In the flickering lantern light, the expression on the four faces changedfrom eager excitement to genuine disappointment.

  "Not a clue among them," Dora announced dramatically.

  "Not a line of writing of any kind, is there?" Mary was confident thatshe knew the answer to her question before she asked it.

  Dick was closely scrutinizing the empty leather box. "Usually in mysterystories," he looked up from his inspection to say, "there's a lining inthe trunk and the lost will, or, what have you, is safely reposing underit, but unfortunately Little Bodil's trunk has no lining nor hide-it-awayplaces of any kind."

  Mary was holding the small doll near to the lantern and the others sawtears in her pitying blue eyes. Suddenly she held the doll comfortinglyclose as she said, a sob in her voice, "Poor little old wooden dollie,all these long years you've been waiting, wondering, perhaps, why LittleBodil didn't take you out and mother you."

  "Like Eugene Fields' 'Little Toy Dog,'" Dora said, looking lovingly ather friend. Then, "Mary, you can write the sweetest verses. Someday whenwe're back at school, write about Little Bodil's wooden doll. It may makeyou famous." Then she modified, "At least it will help you fill space in'The Sunnybank Say-So.'"

  "Promise to send me a copy if she does," Jerry said.

  Dick, who had not been listening, had at last given up hope of finding ascrap of writing. He had felt in the small pocket of the plaid dress andhad closely examined the quilted hood.

  "Well," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, "since there isn't a clue to befound, shall we put the things back into the trunk and go in?"

  "I reckon we might as well," Jerry acquiesced. "We'll have to be up earlytomorrow so that we can drive the girls over to Gleeson along aboutnoon."

  Dora was examining the hand-carved wooden bowl and long wooden spoon. "Iwonder if Little Bodil's father made this leaf pattern on the handle,"she said, then began, jokingly, "If I were a trance medium, I would say,as I hold this article, I feel the presence of someone who, when alive inthe flesh, dearly loved the child, Little Bodil. This someone, thisspirit presence that we cannot see with our outward eyes, wishes verymuch to help us find a clue." Dora's voice had become mysteriously low.

  Lifting her eyes slowly from the wooden bowl, she gazed intently at adark corner where junk was piled.

  Mary's gaze followed. "Goodness, Dora!" she implored nervously, "don'tstare that way into space. Anyone would think that you saw someone and--"

  "I'm not sure but that I do see something." Dora's tone had changed toone of startled seriousness. "Jerry," she continued, pointing toward thedark corner, "don't _you_ see a palely luminous object over there?"

  "I reckon I do," the cowboy agreed. "But one thing I'm sure is, it can'tbe a ghost since there isn't any such thing."

  "How do we know that--" Dora began when Mary, clutching her friend's arm,whispered excitedly, "I see it now! Oh, Jerry, if it isn't a ghost,_what_ is it?"

  "We'll soon know." There was no fear in the cowboy's voice as he leapedto his feet and walked toward the corner. The girls watched breathlesslyexpecting to see the apparition fade into darkness, but, if anything, itseemed clearer, as Jerry approached it.

  His hearty laugh dispelled their fears before he explained, "The moon isrising. That's moonlight coming in through a long crack in the wall."Then, with a shrug which told his disbelief in _all_ things supernatural,he dismissed the subject with, "I reckon _that's_ as near being a ghostas anything ever is."

  Mary was tenderly placing the coarse little undergarments back into thesmall trunk. Dora less sentimental than her friend, nevertheless felt apitying sadness in her heart as she refolded the little plaid dress andlaid it on top. Before closing the box, Mary, still on her knees, lookedup at Jerry, her eyes luminous. "Big Brother," she said, "do _you_ thinkLittle Bodil would mind if I kept her doll? It's a funny, homely littlething with only a wooden heart, but I can't get over feeling that it'slonesome and needs comforting."

  Jerry's gray eyes were very gentle as he looked down at the girl. Hisvoice was a bit husky as he replied, "I reckon Little Bodil would begrateful to you if she knew. She probably set a store by that doll baby."

  He held out a strong brown hand to help her to rise and there was atenderness in the clasp.

  Dora had not packed the wooden bowl and spoon. "I would so like to keepthese," she said, adding hastily, "Of course, if Little Bodil is found,I'll give them back to her. Don't you think it would be all right?"

  "Sure thing!" Dick replied. Stooping, he picked up the worn little carpetslippers, saying, "You overlooked these, girls, while you were packing."

  "Oh, so we did." Dora reached up a hand to take them, then she hesitated,inquiring, "Why don't you and Jerry each take one for a keepsake, ordon't boys care for such things?" Dick took one of the slippers anddropped it, unconcernedly, into a deep leather pocket. The other slipperhe handed to Jerry who stowed it away. The boys replaced the cover of thebox, not without difficulty, and then they all four stood for a silentmoment looking down at it with varying emotions. Mary spoke in a smallawed voice. "What shall we do with the little box?"

  "I reckoned we'd leave it here," Jerry began, then asked, "What were_you_ thinking about it?"

  "I was wondering," Mary said, looking from one to another with largestar-like eyes, "if it wouldn't be a good plan to take the box up to therock house and leave it _there_."

  "Why, Mary Moore," Dora was frankly amazed, "you wouldn't _dare_ climb upthere and be looked at by that Evil Eye Turquoise, would you?"

  Before Mary could reply, Jerry said,
"The plan is a good one, all right,but we'd better leave it here, I reckon, till we know if there's any wayto get up to the rock house. The cliff that broke off in front of it usedto be Mr. Pedersen's stairway."

  Mary agreed and so they ascended the wall ladder. As they stood in theharness-room below, Mary said in a low voice, "Although we have _not_found a clue, that trunk has done one thing; it has made me feel in myheart that Little Bodil was a _real_ child. Before, it seemed to me morelike a fanciful story. Now, more than ever, I hope that _somewhere_ wewill find a clue that will someday prove to us that no harm came to thelittle girl."

  Jerry had picked up the second lantern and, taking Mary's arm, he led herthrough the low door and along the dark path. Neither spoke. Dora andDick followed, walking single file. Dora, remembering the dead snakes,glanced about, but Mr. Newcomb had thoughtfully buried them, not wishingthe girls to be needlessly startled.

  At the kitchen door, the boys said good night and returned to their bunkhouse out near the corral.