15 Dawning Light
With this kindly thought in mind Don jumped to the ground and startedoff. But at that moment Terry appeared in the black doorway.
“Hey, where are you going?” the redhead asked.
“Just going to run down and see if Mr. Vancouver is OK,” called backDon. “Tell Jordan that I’ll be right back.”
“All right, kid,” Terry returned. “If you run into any trouble, justsing out and we’ll come on the double.”
Terry turned back and was lost to sight while Don resumed his journeydown the slope. The cabin was not far away and it took him but a momentto reach it. He approached it from the back, hoping to get a look in oneof the windows, but they were too high and small in the rear and so hepassed around to the front of the cabin. Noiselessly he crossed theporch and tapped on the door, waiting for an answer.
Although he waited there was no response and he wondered if the old manwas asleep. Since there was a light showing he rather doubted that andhe knocked again, a trifle louder. The light came out from under thedoor and showed around the windows that opened off the porch, but he wasunable to peer in because heavy black shades were pulled down to thebottom. The front door was solid and he found no help in that direction.
“He must be asleep, in spite of the light,” Don decided. “I’ll see if Ican see anything through the side windows.”
He made his way around the side of the house and found that he could seein a window there. A ragged shade had been pulled down but the tornedges gave him a limited view of the interior of the large room. It waslighted by a single oil lamp, and in a far corner sat the invalid in hischair, apparently fast asleep. At least he was very quiet and Don wasundecided.
“Don’t know as I ought to tap, but I’ll just see if he is awake,” hedecided, and tapped with his ring on the glass in the window. The oldman stirred, looked toward the window, and wheeled his chair out of theshadow.
“Who is it?” he cried, in a shrill voice.
Don ran swiftly around the porch and placed his lips near the doorframe. “It is Don Mercer, one of the cadets who visited you oneafternoon,” he called. “May I come in?”
“Sure, you may,” responded the man, instantly. There was a soft sound,like the rolling of wheels, and the catch on the door rattled. In aninstant the door swung open to show the frail figure in the chair. Donwas bathed in a yellow light that blinded him for a moment.
“Come right in,” invited Vancouver, spinning back from the door. “Closethe door and make yourself right at home. What brings you up here atthis hour?”
Don entered, closing the door back of him, and looked around the room. Afire snapped in an open hearth and the room was a bit too warm.Vancouver was wrapped in a brown blanket, and he had wheeled himselfback into the shadows beyond the lamplight.
“I’ll have to apologize for my late call, Mr. Vancouver,” laughed Don.“But a bunch of us chased the ghost up this way and the rest of the boysare looking for him. I saw your lights down here and just ran in to seeif you were all right, or if our noise had alarmed you.”
“You were chasing the ghost!” cried Vancouver, sharply. “Go on!”
“Yes, we saw him walking along the Ridge and we gave chase,” Donexplained. “We trailed him into that old house on the top of the hilland we went all through the place but couldn’t find him. While theothers were looking I ran down here to see if you had heard anything.Sorry to have bothered you.”
“Wasn’t any bother at all, and I’m grateful to you for your thought,”responded Vancouver promptly. “I didn’t hear anything because I’ve beensleeping here in the chair. Your knock woke me up. So you saw the ghost,eh? What did he look like?”
Don described the appearance of the ghost and the old man appeared to bedeeply interested.
“You say you fellows saw him. How’d you come to do that? You ain’talways out of your camp so late as this, be you?”
Feeling that he might some day help them to find the ghost, Don relatedthe story of the mysterious flagman, the search on the hill and therevolver shot that Rowen had fired off.
“Dear, too bad about that shot,” said the invalid, shaking his head. “Ifit hadn’t been for that you would have nailed this ghost, eh?”
“No doubt of it,” said Don, his attention attracted by something thatthe man was doing. “Are you too hot, Mr. Vancouver?”
The invalid had been passing a hand jerkily across his forehead severaltimes, and each time after the act he wiped a somewhat dampened hand onthe brown cover. Although it was quite warm in the place it did not seemto be hot enough to make a man sweat, unless Mr. Vancouver was the kindwho perspired easily. It seemed to Don that the old man was breathingpretty heavily for one who had sat in a wheel chair all evening, and inthe boy’s brain a faint idea stirred. He rejected it, at first, but likea gentle knocking it persisted.
“Oh, no, no,” hastily interposed the cripple. “Do you feel too warm?”
“No, but I thought perhaps you might be a little hot, and I’d open awindow or the door for you,” responded Don, seating himself on the edgeof the table.
“No, you needn’t do that,” said the man, running one thumb absentlyalong the edge of the nearest wheel. The glance that he fixed on thecadet’s face was keen and almost fierce. “I’m so old I got to keep warm,because I don’t move around enough.”
“I see,” nodded Don. He had intended to leave immediately, but foundhimself suddenly possessed with a desire to remain. “Well, as I wastelling you, we chased that ghost into the old house above you. Knowanything about the place?”
At the same time Don began a rigid inspection of his host. Most of theman was covered up, but his feet showed under the blanket. Only the toescould be seen, but there was something about them that attracted hisattention. They were clothed in socks which seemed to be damp, and hewondered if the man always went without shoes.
Vancouver knew the place well. “They used to call that the hauntedhouse, around here,” he chuckled. “This Ridge is a pretty spooky place,the more you hear of it. You don’t know who it was that sent you thatflag message, eh?”
“Haven’t the least idea,” answered Don. “All of the cadets were in campat the time, and I don’t know who around here knows how to use signalflags. And who would know that the ghost was going to walk?”
“You beat me there,” Vancouver said, shaking his head. “That’s a hardnut to crack. Maybe the ghost went in for a little advertising.”
“I doubt it, Mr. Vancouver,” said Don, noting that the fire wasconsuming fresh wood which couldn’t have been put there an hour ago. “Ifyou had seen the ghost run you’d have known that the thing was utterlyunexpected to him. It is a pretty tough problem.”
“I guess most ghost doings are tough problems,” grinned the old man.
“I guess so,” Don smiled. “Nice fire you have there. We don’t see manyopen hearth fires any more. Have you had it going all evening?”
“Yep, I generally have it going every evening,” responded the man,somewhat absently.
“Well, I’ll have to be running along, Mr. Vancouver,” he said, glancingat his watch. “I don’t want to keep you at an hour like this. I justwanted to run down and see if we had alarmed you, but as long as wehaven’t, why, I’ll be moving.”
“I didn’t hear a sound, so I’m all right. It was real nice of you todrop down to see if I was all right, and I sure appreciate that. An oldcripple like me doesn’t get much chance to see the world or talk withanyone, so it did me good to have you stop in.”
“That’s fine,” replied Don, his eyes busy at the task of looking aroundthe room in a guarded manner. “Say, Mr. Vancouver, as I told you before,we did quite a bit of running tonight. And gee, I’m just about burningup with thirst. I’m thinking with pleasure that you have some of thefinest water I ever tasted here.”
“I’ll get you a drink in just a shake,” promised the man, seizing hiswheel.
“Don’t bother. Can’t I get it myself?” asked Don, wishing to gain a lookat the kitchen.
“Won’t take me a second,” said the other, and spun around in his chair,aiming at the doorway that led into the back room. With the speed andaccuracy of an arrow he passed through it and was gone.
And almost immediately Don thanked his lucky stars that he had not beenpermitted to go out into the other room himself. For something that hadbeen hidden by the chair of the cripple was now disclosed. In the cornerrested a pair of shoes, and these shoes were covered with mud!
Not the slightest doubt about it. Red and black mud, soft and wet, afact that he could determine without touching them. A band of light fromthe lamp shone on them and revealed the evidence plainly. That explainedthe man’s damp socks. Yet Don’s brain was unable to fully take it allin.
“Is it possible that this man is not an invalid after all? Or has thereal ghost been here, and maybe is hiding here right now? That may bepossible.”
But certain things pointed an unerring hand at his host. His brow wasmoist, as of one who had been running. His breath had been rapid, andnow his muddy shoes betrayed him. For not an instant longer did Dondoubt that the man could walk and run, and the crippled state wasnothing but a ruse.
“No wonder he pumped me about who it was that sent the wigwag,” hethought, as the sound of water was heard from the kitchen pump. “While Ihave been sitting here telling him everything he has been measuring me,wondering if I have been playing some sort of a game with him. Maybe I’mlucky that he didn’t jump on me suddenly, but I believe that mystraightforward story has convinced him that I don’t know anything.Nothing dumb about him, evidently! My story about running down to see ifhe is all right must sound pretty flat, though.”
The man wheeled into the room rapidly and in his hand he had a tallglass of water. Don drank it eagerly, keeping a wary eye on the old man,but nothing out of the way happened and he thanked him for the water.
“Don’t mention it,” smiled the man. “Come up again and see me, won’tyou?”
“I surely will,” promised Don, as he opened the door. “Good night, sir.”
“Good night, boy, good night,” was the bright and cheery response, asDon went out.
“If he isn’t a cripple, he certainly knows how to run that chair ofhis,” Don decided, as he ran up the hill.
He found that the others were waiting for him impatiently. “Golly, wethought that you were lost,” said Jordan, impatiently.
“No, just talking with Mr. Vancouver,” said Don. “Didn’t have any luck,eh?”
“Not a bit,” returned the senior captain. “Well, I suppose we may aswell head in.”
It did not take them long to make camp, where they found the othersawaiting them. Jordan reported to the colonel, who had heard the shotand who knew from Rowen’s own report what had happened. Howes wasordered to blow the bugle as a sign of recall, and before very long allof the groups had returned.
“Too bad we lost him,” said the colonel, shaking his head. “I believe itwas entirely due to Mr. Rowen’s disobedience. I have ordered him intopermanent arrest, until I decide what to do with him. Sound taps, Mr.Howes.”
Don thought deeply before falling asleep. “I guess I’ll keep things tomyself, at least for a time,” he decided. “It all sounds so farfetchedthat I hate to drag out my discoveries. But that man was surely out ofhis chair and out of his house this night! Now that I have somethingdefinite to work on something tangible may come up before long. The nextthing we had better do is to find out who that mysterious flagman was.”
The Mercer Boys in the Ghost Patrol Page 15
