 CHAPTER 10 I UNDERSTAND NOW HOW A MATHEMATICIAN COULD WRITE Alice in Wonderland, Helen Nash remarked to Marion after Mr Stanlock had withdrawn to the dining room and his belated meal. How is that? the hostess inquired, looking curiously at her friend. Why, your father, I suppose, has been thinking in terms of tons of coal all day. Carloads, Marion corrected, with a toss of liberty. Well, make it carloads, Helen assented. That's better to my purpose, more like a multiplication table, instead of addition, but it must be about as dry as mathematics. Oh, I get you, Marion exclaimed delightedly. You mean that it is quite as remarkable for a coal operator, with carloads of coal and soot, weighing down his imagination all day, to come home in the evening and spin off a lot of nonsense, like a comedian, as it is for a mathematician to have written Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Precisely, answered Helen. Well, I don't know, but you're right. Anyway, I wouldn't detract from a such nice compliment paid to the dearest daddy on earth. Still, after leaving the atmosphere of his carloads of coal, he had experienced the diversion of being held up by two masked men with guns on a lonely highway supplemented Helen. Yes, and later found that his driver had turned traitor and planned to deliver him into the hands of the enemy. Yes, I don't see any diversion or inspiration in that sort of experience. Many a man would have come home in a very depressed state of mind, after such an adventure, and yet he came home, found everybody scared to death, and before he even began his story, had us all laughing just as Alice would, at some of the contortions behind the looking glass. And he kept us smiling, even when he told that the mast would be kidnappers standing in the middle of the road and pointing pistols at the driver of his automobile. Kidnappers, repeated Marion in puzzled surprise. Why do you say kidnappers? The two girls were alone in the library when this conversation took place. All of the other guests, feeling that the members of the family would prefer to be left alone following the startling occurrences of the evening, had withdrawn to their rooms. Helen was about to bid her friend good night, when her remark regarding Mr. Stanlock's happy personal fecalities opened the discussion as he recorded. She hesitated a few moments before answering the last inquiry. Then she said, Don't you think that those men intended to kidnap your father? What other explanation can you find for their actions? I hadn't tried to figure out their motive, Marion replied thoughtfully. Father called it a hold-up, and I took his word for it. But he had no money with him, did he? No, I think not. He seldom carries much money. And it is hardly reasonable to suppose that this plot between the chauffeur and the two highwaymen was for the purpose of murder. They would have gone about it in some other way. This one leaves too many traces behind. Yes, Marion admitted. Well, the only reasonable conclusion you can reach with the robbery and murder motives out of the way is that the plotters wished to take your father prisoner and hold him someplace until they got what they wanted. But what did they want? asked the bewildered Marion. That's for your father to suspect, and the police to find out, said Helen shrewdly. Personally, I have in a doubt that the strife has everything to do with it. What makes you think so? The threatening letter that you received at the institute. Show that to your father tonight and suggest that he turn it over to the police. I will, Marion promised. In this new excitement, I forgot all about it. I didn't even show it to Mother. Just as soon as Papa finishes his dinner, I'm going to show that letter to him. I'll go upstairs now and get it. You wait here and be present when we talk it over, Helen. You're so good at offering suggestions that maybe with you present we can all work out some kind of solution of what has been going on. Marion hastened up to a room and returned presently with both of the anonymous letters she had received in Westmoreland. A few minutes later her father and mother both entered the library with the evident purpose in mind of holding a lengthy conference on the problems growing out of Mr Stanlock's business troubles. Papa, do you think those men tried to kidnap you? Marion inquired by way of introducing the subject. Mr Stanlock laughed heartily. Kidnapped me? He exclaimed. Well, that's a good one. I thought they only kidnapped kids. Father, the girl pleaded. Do be serious with me. I've got something very important to show you. Something I forgot all about until Helen reminded me. Helen thinks those men tried to kidnap you and she's a pretty wise girl, as I've had an occasion to find out. If Helen said that, she surely must be a wise girl or else. She has made a pretty accurate guess, was the mine owner's reply. Then they did want to kidnap you. Absolutely no doubt of it. They've got some kind of retreat in the mountains and plan to carry me off there and keep me prisoner. What for? Why? To force me to yield to some of their demands, which are utterly impossible and unreasonable. First, they demand an increase of wages that would force us into receivership sooner or later and again they demand the adoption of a cooperative plan which eventually would make them owners of the mine. If there were any possibility of it working, and there isn't. It's the most ridiculous holdup, the responsibility for which rests with a few fanatical leaders of doubtful integrity. What do you think of these letters? Marion asked, handing the two anonymous messives to her father. I received them by mail at the institute last night, but neglected to read them until we were all on the train this morning. As Mr. Stanlock read them, his brow contracted sternly. He could treat lightly any hostile attack on himself. But when danger threatened members of his family or their intimate friends, all signs of levity disappeared from his manner, and he was ready at once to meet with all his energy the source of the danger. Whether it be human or an element of intimate nature. This, he said, as he finished reading and held up the letters signed with the skull and crossbones. Undoubtedly came from the source where the plot to kidnap me originated. They are pretty well organized and determined to go the limit. Of course, you girls must give up your plans to working among the strikers' families. It would be cool, hardy, and probably would result in somebody's getting hurt. How about the other letter? Marion asked. I don't know, was the reply. It doesn't seem to amount to much. I hardly think it is to be taken as the threat. Have you no idea who sent it? Some of the girls think it was sent by some of the boys' scouts at Spring Lake. You see, they came up in full force to hire Waffa on the night when we held our grand council fire. It was a complete surprise on us, exceedingly well done and about as clever as you could expect from the cleverest boys. Before they left, several of them boasted openly that they were planning another surprise for some of us, and they dared us to find out in advance what it was. No doubt that is what this note means, Mr Stanlock declared so positively, and such a gleam of interest in his eyes, that Marion could not help wondering just a little. What makes you so certain about it, she inquired. I don't see any real proof in those words as to what they mean or who wrote them. No, no, of course not, agreed Mr Stanlock with seemingly uncalled for glibness. But then you see, it is more reasonable to suspect that this note came from the boys than from the strikers. If it is between the two, the boys and the strikers, I say forget the strikers and be sure that the boys sent this note. I wish that the boys would spring their surprise tonight and settle the question of that note, said Marion. Why, inquired her father, with the faint light of a smile in his eyes, because I don't like the uncertainty of the thing. Uncertainty always bothers me, and this is a more than ordinary case. But how could the boys spring their surprise without coming to Holy Hill, her father asked. That's just it, she returned with a quick glance of suspicion toward both her father and her mother. Do you know, I found myself wondering several times if Clifford wouldn't bring some of those boys down here sometime during the holidays. Mr Stanlock laughed, but he would have given a good deal to be able to recall the noise he made. It was really a noise, as he must have admitted himself, and so hollow as to indicate something decidedly unlike spontaneous amusement. Marion caught herself in a brown study several times over these circumstances, and her father's manner before she went to sleep that night. End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 of Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains by Stella M. Francis Chapter 11 A Man at Big Heart and Queer Notions Christmas was a big event at Holy Hill. Holy Hill was well-named. Perhaps some old patriarch, a century or two back, conceived the inspiration of the name while playing Santa Claus with little tots at the household, and pretending to have slid down the chimney without getting a speck of soot on his bulging vestments. Perhaps he imagined while Mother woke the children and had them peek through a crack in the door at the white whiskered visitor stuffing their stockings full of presents, that he had tethered his prancing team of reindeer to a holly tree outside. Certainly there seemed to have been material for such imagination. The tradition said that the hill on which the first houses of the first settlement were built had at one time been richly adorned with the species of American ilux, and even now there remained here and there carefully preserved remnants of that reported original wealth of the wilderness. Whether or not this conjectural history of the settlement had anything to do with the cheerful midwinter holiday developments of the community need not be argued at length. An argument would render the truth flat and insipid of it should prove to be in accord with poetic tradition. So what's the use? In midwinter everybody just knew that Holyhill as a child had been nursed in the snow-trimmed evergreen lap of Christmas. Not that this municipality had a corner on midwinter holiday generosity to the exclusion of all other communities. The chief outstanding fact in this relation was that the inhabitants, although so fortunate as to be in a position to give and receive abundantly, believed Holyhill to be the most generous Christmas town on earth, and there was nobody sufficiently interested to make a denial and follow it up with proof. Much of the credit for this condition was due to the leading man of the place, Richard P. Stanlock, president and controlling power at the Holyhill coal mining company, which owned a string of mines in the mountain district near the divisional line of two states. Besides being the leading citizen, Mr. Stanlock was the biggest man in town because of the position to which he had risen, his ability to hold it, and the influence that went with it. What he said usually went, but his hand was not always evident. He liked to see things done. Doubtless enjoyed the realisation that his was the great moving power that produced results, but didn't give a fig to have anybody else know it. To his intimate friends, who were few and to the many with whom he would pass the time of day, he was, as common in word and manner, as the average householder, with nothing more pretentious in life than the earning of his daily bread. But in spite of all this simplicity and personal retirement, Mr. Stanlock was a good deal of a mystery to many citizens who knew really little about him, or perhaps he was a mystery to these fellow townsfolk because of his modest qualities. Knowing little about him, they imagined more. Leading citizens who knew his good qualities were ever ready with the word of praise for him, but the trouble was the needed tangible evidence of his broad philanthropy was utterly lacking. Seldom was there a visible connecting link between him and a good deed, and so the praise of his work in pulpit, press and other public and semi-public places, fell as platitudes before a considerable number of skeptics whose favourite reply to this sort of thing was something like bunk. But Marian knew that it wasn't bunk. She was one of the few confidence that gained an intimate understanding of the wealthy mine owner's character. She knew that he was the secret financial backer of an organisation of settlement workers which kept close watch on the needs of the miners and their families, many of whom were so woefully ignorant that about the only way to handle them was by appealing to their appetites, their sympathies and their prejudices. She knew too that he had strong connections constantly at work, fostering and promoting the best of activities for advancement of the civic welfare. That Christmas was one of his secret hobbies that it was practically impossible for this city of 40,000 inhabitants to neglect this opportunity for a revival of good fellowship and good cheer so long as their father had his hand on the electric key of public generosity. Christmas was a blaze of glory every year in Holy Hill. Public halls, churches and theatres were the scenes of the liveliest activities for several days and nights before and after this biggest event of the winter season. Nor was the celebration confined to the more prosperous sections of the town, but extended into the heart of the mining settlement where Christmas tinsel and lights were lavished without consideration of cost and nobody was allowed to pass the season without being impressively reminded as to just what turkey roast and cranberry sauce tasted like. So skilfully were these programs put into effect that seldom was a hint dropped from any source that Richard Perry Stanlock was entitled to the slightest credit for these magnificent duins. He spent Christmas at home in a quiet, unassuming way amid the family decorations of holly and mistletoe and a vast litter of presents, oranges, apples, nuts and candy. Marian knew that her father's greatest vanity was his secret pride in his ability to put over the biggest generosity of the year without its being traceable to him. One day a girl acquaintance of her asked her if she knew that her father spent $25,000 every year for Christmas. Marian laughed. Later she laughingly reported the query to Mr. Stanlock. Next day this girl friend's uncle, one of the philanthropists, Agents, was called in on the carpet and given a lecture on the wisdom of guarding his remarks, such as he had never before dreamed of receiving. Papa, the millionaire's older daughter, said to him one day, Don't you think it is foolish to keep secret all these generous things that you are doing? Why do you think it is foolish, my dear? He replied with an expression of shrewd amusement. He was certain that she would have difficulty in answering his question. Well, she began slowly, then admitted, I don't know. I'm very glad you don't know, said her father, with evident satisfaction. If you had tried to give a reason, I should have been greatly disappointed. No explanation of that suggestion could be based on anything but family pride, which is one form of vanity. No, Marian differed thoughtfully. There is one explanation based on human caution and wisdom. I am afraid that you are misunderstood by the very people whose confidence you should seek to cultivate. That is the miners. Some of them don't like you very well. They think that you personally are a hard taskmaster, and that the attentions and relief which really come from you in times of need are bestowed on them by persons who feel that they have to help them because of your failure to do the right thing by them. Why don't you, Papa, go right among them and tell them that you are going to do everything you can for them, raise their wages, maybe, and make them love you personally? It isn't my nature, Marian, to do it that way, Mr. Stanlock replied. There is nothing in the world that would be so distasteful to me as assuming the role of a philanthropist or a hero. It spoils every man to some extent who tries it. Personal vanity is the greatest enemy that man has to guard against. I've guarded myself against it thus far successfully. I think and I am not going to let it get me in the future if I can help it. Marian felt like saying that her father's fear of vanity might someday get him into trouble with his men, but she refrained from so expressing herself. On the occasion before us she recalled that conversation, for she realised that the strike was a result in part of the very misunderstanding that she had anticipated. Several clever leaders among the miners had spread the report about that Mr. Stanlock had become immensely wealthy by overworking and underpaying his men, while he caused to be circulated through various channels, numerous undetailed reports of his generosity, philanthropy and public spirit. When she invited the members of Flamingo Camp Fire to be her guests and worked with her among the poor and hunger-suffering families of the strikers, she did not realise the seriousness of the situation with reference to the feeling of the miners toward her father. Now she felt that the condition of affairs was more than she could cope with, and from the day of her arrival home she was constantly in fear, lest some dread catastrophe could befall the family, because the biggest man in Holy Hill kept himself severely fortified against the adulation of his fellow townsmen and the character-witening influence of personal vanity. End of Chapter 11 Chapter 12 of Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains This Libra Vox recording is in the public domain. Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains by Stella M. Francis Chapter 12 A Mysterious Disappearance The Flamingo Camp Fire arrived at the Stanlock home on Friday. Christmas was scheduled on the calendar to fall on the following Wednesday. From the day of their arrival all of the girls were busy with Christmas preparations. Every one of them, several weeks before, had taken on her the task of making, buying or assembling from parts purchased as score or more a presence. As one of the chief aims of Hiawatha Institute was to teach wealthy men's daughters how to be economical, it goes without saying that each of these girls had on hand no enviable winter task. Madam Cleaver laid the matter very plainly before her 240-odd girls. She had observed that the Christmas problem had a tendency to make some of the students of her school sympathised with old Scrooge. If Christmas wasn't a humbug it could very easily be made a nuisance. Madam Cleaver agreed with them in this respect. She told them so. Furthermore she added, I don't wish you to understand that there is anything compulsory in the giving of presence on such occasions. One of the dangers of this sort of thing is that it is likely to become a perfunctory affair with thousands taking part because they feel they have to. Also Christmas is exploited by many people. Their sympathy for the good fellowship at the occasion is measured largely by the dollars and cents that it pours into their coffers. You should see all these drawbacks and then decide for yourself whether the advantages of Christmas overbalance the drawbacks. For my part I believe that they do and I enjoy the day and the season but don't take my word for it. Decide for yourselves. The result was that everybody at the Institute got busy several weeks before the holiday season and the manner in which the products of girl ingenuity began to pile up must have been satisfying indeed to the head of the school. But the work was not all done when the campfire arrived at Holy Hill. Most of the girls still having enough to do to keep them busy almost up to Christmas Eve. Mr Stanlock advised the girls not to leave the house under any consideration after night and engaged three detectives who were given instructions to follow and protect any of Marian's guests who might desire to go shopping or make other journeys about the city in the day time. Automobiles with drivers were within ready call for these men at any time. It was understood also that no journeys were to be made into the section at the city inhabited by the miners and their families. Thus far the strike had not been attended by violence of any sort or destruction of property. The men had simply ceased to work and had submitted their demands to the president of the company. The latter realized at once that the employees were being led by an unusual type of labour agitators which might be expected to employ unusual methods to gain their friends. The man who appeared to be the leader was as unusual in appearance as he was in methods pursued. He was about 35 years old but looked five or eight years younger. He had first been employed in the mines about six months before as an operator of an electric chain cutter machine. But he had not long been connected with the work before his influence among the men began to be felt. To the casual observer he was a quiet sharp-eyed man who seldom spoke under ordinary circumstances unless he was first spoken to. But he got in communication with all his fellow workers in some mysterious manner and before long in spite of the fact that he was not what is popularly known as a mixer. Everybody from shovelers to machine men knew him as Dave, the chain cutter man. He had the reputation of being able to do half again as much work as any man in the slope. Although Mr Stanlock knew of the influence of this man on the miners almost from the day when the strike was called, the only name by which he heard him spoken of during almost the entire period at the tyre was Dave, the chain cutter man. Little at special interest relative to the strike so far as the girls were concerned took place on the last Saturday and Sunday before Christmas. Mr Stanlock reported the recent occurrences to the police in detail but what the police plan to do was not communicated in the form of hint or suggestion to the members of Flamingo Fire. If Mr Stanlock knew he kept the information a close secret. In harmony with his habitual reticence on business matters he sought to avoid further discussion of the subject. On Saturday however there was added to the events of the season one item of great importance which would have caused Marion no little uneasiness could she have caught more than the most superficial hint concerning it. This hint was so superficial that it consisted merely of a glimpse at the address and postmark on a letter that arrived at the house with the early mail. Marion took the letters and papers from the mailbox and as she was distributing them she observed the Holy Hill postmark on an envelope addressed in a man's handwriting to Helen Nash. I wonder who it can be. The hostess mused as she laid the letter on Helen's dresser. I didn't know that she was on specially friendly terms with any of the boys of Holy Hill but then you can never know what to expect of her. You find out what she is going to do when she does it. In spite of the paradox no truer statement of Helen's nature had ever been made. She said nothing to any of the girls about the letter she had received and if subsequent events had not recalled the incident Marion probably would have forgotten it entirely. The three detectives employed by Mr Stanlock were housed in the now vacant sleeping quarters of the chauffeur over the garage. A buzzer connected with the house and an agreed signal system of one two three served as a means of quick information as to how many of the men were wanted at any given time. Sunday morning another chauffeur engaged by Mr Stanlock arrived and was housed with the detectives. It was not the duty at the later of course to accompany or follow anybody leaving the house unless they were called. Hence it was quite possible for any of the guests to start out alone and make a trip to any part of the city without the protection of a watchful guard. The possibility that any of the guests might desire to take such a course did not occur to Marion or any other member of the household. It was presumed that everybody would gladly accept such protection on every occasion when it seemed advisable. As a matter of fact however the detectives had little to do on Saturday and Sunday. Only three of the girls made shopping trips on Saturday and all took an automobile ride Sunday afternoon. This was the sum total of their activities away from the Stanlock home with the exception of one instance of which there was no hint until late in the afternoon. About six o'clock Marion suddenly became mindful of the fact that she had not seen Helen since their return from the automobile drive three hours earlier and she began a search for her. She first went upstairs to her room to see if her friend were there. Probably she was tired and had laid down to rest and fallen asleep but an inspection of the room failed to discover Helen. Considerably puzzled Marion now hunted up every other person in the house and inquired for the missing girl. Not one of them remembered seeing her since the return from the drive. The girl hostess was now thoroughly alarmed and her fears were speedily communicated to the others. Everybody joined in the search and every nook and corner capable of concealing a human form was examined. Helen Nash was not in the house and there seemed to be no reasonable explanation of her disappearance. End of Chapter 12 Chapter 13 of Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains. This Libra Box recording is in the public domain. Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains by Stella M. Francis Chapter 13. Find her or I'll find her myself. Mr. Stanlock came home from a meeting of mining stockholders about the time when consternation over the disappearance of Helen was at its height. After the particulars of the affair, so far as they were known, had been explained to him, he asked, Where are the detectives? The question fell with something of a shock on the ears of the assembled searchers who had just completed a second fruitless hunt through the house. Why had they not thought of the trio of mystery masters before? We ought to have called them in at once, Mrs. Stanlock said. I suppose they've gone by this time but I'll see. She pushed the buzzer button in the hall and soon the chauffeur appeared at the side entrance. Yes, the detectives had gone but he knew where they could be found at the high peak athletic club. Mr. Stanlock at once called up the club and soon had won at the detectives on the wire. Can you men come over at once? He inquired. One of the girls has disappeared and we are afraid that something serious has happened. Yes, we'll be there right away was the answer. Twenty minutes later there was a ring at the door and the three detectives, a tall thin man, a short heavy man and a squarely built angular man were ushered in. The short heavy man named Myers was the most talkative of the three. He put forth a string of questions as to when and where Helen was last seen and what she was doing. Had anybody seen her go out of the house? Nobody had. Was there anything peculiar in her manner in the course of the day? Nothing peculiar. What kind of girl was she? What were her most noticeable characteristics? Had she any pronounced likes and dislikes? Was she in the habit of doing things just to be contrary? Was she a girl of good judgment or flightly and lightheaded? These questions brought out nothing of tangible advantage and number one rested apparently well satisfied with the keenness of his record thus far made. Number two now took up the inquiry. He was the squarely built angular fellow with deep-set eyes, quiet, demeanour and few words. His first question was, has Miss Nash any other friends living in Holly Hill? No, I think not. Marion replied, no particular friends. None that she ever corresponds with persisted the man with the deep-set eyes. Marion started visibly. Sudden recollection of the letter received by Helen the day before came to her. She got a letter postmarked Holly Hill yesterday. The young hostess replied, who was it from? I don't know. I didn't know that she was corresponding with anybody in the town, but the address on the envelope looked as if it was written by a man. Do you suppose you could find that letter? I'll go upstairs and look, Marion said, suiting the action to the word. In a few minutes she returned with a waste paper basket in her hands. Helen was sharing my room with me, she said. A letter has been torn up and thrown in the basket. As I didn't do it, it must be Helen's. This begins to look like something the tall man said with a nod of approval, picking up several bits of paper from the basket. She's torn it up in pretty small pieces, but if we all get busy we ought to be able to put them together in a short time. Let's go out to the dining room table, Mrs. Danlock proposed, leading the way as she spoke. In a few moments all were seated around the large fumed oak table from which the spread had been removed as the hardwood surface was much better for the task of piecing the letter together. It was indeed a tedious task, but with so many working together progress was fairly rapid. Within 15 minutes, half a dozen sentence sections of several words each had been joined in their phrase order. These were soon followed by three or four more and presently one of the girls found a connecting link between two sections thus forming a complete sentence. Imagine the thrill that went through everyone as Mr. Danlock read the following. Get your friends out of Holy Hill as soon as possible. I bet this letter was written by the same person who wrote the skull and crossbones letter to me. Marian ventured confidently. That's the very idea that just occurred to me. Ms. Lad declared as she fitted no and difference together and then tried to find a connecting edge on the piece held by her neighbour to the left. Fortunately the letter had been written on only one side of a large sheet of paper so that they could be pasted in co-relative positions on another sheet provided for the purpose. Finally the patchwork was completed in so far as the material at hand made completeness possible. A few of the bits of torn paper were missing so that a word was wanting here and there in the text. But apparently the idea and purpose of the writer did not suffer from these vacancies. The letter as read at last by Mr. Danlock was as follows. Dear ah, you have failed to do what I blink you too do. I told you that it was blank, dangerous to bring the girls here. The letter was warning to Ms. Stan blank, did no good blank. I want to warn you again and blank blank, last time. Get your friends out of Holy Hill as soon as possible. I won't be responsible for what occurs. It makes no difference if you have given up your original purpose. Some of the men are so worked up that they are liable to do almost anything. If you can't get the rest out of town go yourself or you may get hurt. D blank. Ha ha, exclaimed the short, heavy and loquacious detective. That explains the whole thing. Ms. Nash has gone out of town. She hasn't done any such thing. Marion exclaimed indignantly, springing to her feet. Helen isn't that kind of girl. I know she is peculiar, but she isn't a coward. It's evident now that she knew something about affairs here that resulted in the sending of that threatening letter to me, and she kept her information secret for some reason. Whatever her reason was, she meant all right. Did she get any time urge or suggest that it would not be well for the girls to come here in the holidays? Mr. Stanlock inquired. Never a word, Marion replied positively. I admit that once or twice I noticed that there was something peculiar in her manner, and it may have had something to do with her condition back of these developments. But that is all. How do you account for her disappearance? Asked Detective Meyer, with puzzled humility. I don't pretend to account for it. Marion replied quickly. That's a problem for you men to solve. All I know is that Helen did not intentionally desert us. She's gone and she went for some reason, and I believe that reason is connected with the letter. Now it's up to you men to find her, and if you don't find her pretty quick, I'll go and find her myself. A murmur of applause swept the room. We'll do it, declared the tall, thin detective. If it's within human power, condition the square-built, deep-eyed man. The talkative gentleman of genius said nothing. All three of them left the house a few minutes later. End of Chapter 13. Chapter 14 of Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains by Stella M. Francis. Chapter 14. Trapped There was little sleep for anyone at the Stanlock home that night. The mystery at the patched-up letter, coupled with Helen's apparently voluntary disappearance and the fear that she had been led into a trap of some sort, in line with the threat contained in the skull and cross-bones letter, kept everybody up until long after midnight. Meanwhile, Mr. Stanlock called up the police station and asked the lieutenant in charge to come over and begin work on a new angle of the strike developments. One of the girls has disappeared, and we are afraid that something serious has happened. He told the officer over the telephone. The latter soon drove up to the house in an automobile and was admitted by Mr. Stanlock. The conference lasted half an hour, but before half this time had elapsed, Lieutenant Larkin had the station on the wire and was giving instructions to the desk sergeant. To add to the difficulty of the problem, snow began to fall about five o'clock and developed almost into a blizzard in three or four hours. Next morning the two newspapers of Holly Hill carried big headlines and column and a half stories of the new strike development, suggestive of a far-reaching plot that might result in tragedy. Mr. Stanlock had during the evening received all newspaper calls over a special wire in his private room so as not to disturb the guests with the publicity end of the affair. In the afternoon, Mr. Stanlock announced that she, being an officer at the woman's club with an important duty to perform, must attend a committee meeting from three until four thirty o'clock, and she asked Ms. Ladd to accompany her. The latter consented, but cautioned the girls against leaving the house in as much as the three detectives were no longer available for guard duty, having been directed to devote their entire time to the search for Helen. There were now at the house only the twelve remaining campfire girls and the kitchen maid Kitty Kopie. Marion's younger sister and brother were attending a children's afternoon party a few blocks away. The new chauffeur had been summoned by Mrs. Stanlock to take her and mislead to the club rooms where the committee meeting was to be held. About three o'clock a newspaper photographer and a reporter arrived. The girls allowed a group picture to be taken and the reporter was granted an interview. Half an hour after the newspaper men departed, there came a ring at the front door. As Mary the head servant was out, Marion answered the ring and found at the entrance a woman of middle age, dressed in plain black, who spoke to her in quick eager accents thus. Is this Miss Marion Stanlock? It is the girl answered. I am Mrs. Eddie, who moved in to one of those vacant houses two blocks from here, the woman explained. I have some information of interest to you. Is it about Helen Nash? Marion asked so eagerly that there could be no mistaking the subject nearest her heart. The woman nodded and smiled and Marion seized her by the arm and almost dragged her into the hall and then into the reception room. Where is she? Tell me quickly. Two of the other girls in the drawing room hearing these words and surmising their significance came rushing in and caught the visitors answer thus. She's over at my house. She came there last night. I had no idea who she was until I saw the articles in the newspaper. I didn't get it until late and then I came right over. But, said Marion apprehensively, why didn't she come right home? What was the matter? Couldn't she explain who she was? The girl was not in her right mind, Mrs. Eddie said. She was in a delirium. It was about ten o'clock at night and evidently she had been tramping the streets for hours in the storm. How is she now? Oh, I must go right to her. Did she get lost in the storm? Girls, girls, come here. Helen's found. Is she, is she ill, very ill, Mrs. Eddie? I don't think she is seriously ill. The woman replied with an expression of sweet encouragement. I had a doctor call and he didn't seem to think there was any immediate danger. Although she hasn't talked rationally yet. She is in bed and has considerable fever. Would it be all right for me to go and see her? Is it against the doctor's orders? I'd be very careful and besides, I'm a nurse in fact. We all are nurses. Oh, to be sure. It will be all right for you to come. All of you may come if you wish. You can go in one at a time quietly. Then a couple of you may remain and help nurse her. I really need help for I am all alone and set up all night with her and have been close to her most of the day. Perhaps it would be well for you girls to make arrangements for relief nursing watches. You are perfectly welcome to keep her at my home until she is well, if you will relieve me of the necessity of nursing her. Come on girls, get your raps. We will all go over. It's only a couple of blocks, hurry everybody. Wait, and I'll tell Kitty we're going out, Marianne said. She ran through several rooms calling Kitty Kitty, but received no response. I wonder where she is, the hostess said, in a puzzled manner. Well we haven't time to find her, come on. I think I saw her go out more than half an hour ago, Harriet Newcomb said. She called someone up on the telephone and then put her hat and coat on and went out the sideway, and I haven't seen her since. That's strange, Marianne commented. Then the subject was forgotten. The twelve girls and their leader were walking rapidly toward the place where Mrs. Eddie, the good Samaritan, had taken in and cared for the girl, whom every one of them loved, as they would have loved a sister. The house they stopped in front of was rather dingy and forbidding. It was a large brick structure set back a hundred feet from the street on a plot of ground, nearly an acre in extent. Most of the windows were darkened with green blinds, two generations out of date. Mrs. Eddie put a key into the lock and opened the door. Then she stepped aside and motioned the girls to enter, and they did so as if moved by a spell that they were unable to resist. Then the woman herself entered, closed the door and put the key into the lock and turned it. If the twelve campfire girls had no suspicions as to the geniusness of the motives of the woman up to this time, they had good and sufficient reason to anticipate something dreadful when they saw her take the key from the lock and put it in her coat pocket. And still, if there were any doubts in their minds after this act, they were effectively dispelled by the sound of a man's voice coming through a doorway from a dimly lighted room to the right, speaking thus. Now young ladies, let me warn you to be quiet. You have been led into a trap, but you will not be heard in any way if you obey orders. One scream from any of you will be followed by a blow with the club that will silence you for a long time, maybe forever. This way please. Everybody be quiet and sensible, and you will be well treated. End of Chapter 14 Chapter 15 of Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains by Stella M. Francis. Chapter 15. A Pile of Scrapped Lumber Conditions and developments seem to work favourably for the mysterious trappers of the Camp Fire Girls. In the first place, when Mrs. Stanlock returned home and found the house without an occupant, except Kitty Copey, who was working away very quietly in the kitchen, it was difficult for her to suspect anything wrong. Where are the girls, Kitty? She inquired, and the other replied with a suggestion of foreign accent. Oh, they've just gone out for a walk. They'd be back soon, I guess. I hope they didn't go far, Mrs. Stanlock said, concernedly. They ought to be very careful. It will be getting dark before very long. It's cloudy and looks like more snow. How long have they been gone? About half an hour, Kitty answered. I went out to the drugstore to get something for my toothache, and when I came back, they was gone. This was the first reference that Mrs. Stanlock heard regarding Kitty's toothache, but she accepted the statement for its face value and waited, hopefully, for an early return of her daughter and her daughter's guests. Half an hour went by, and the girls did not appear. Darkness was now visibly gathering. Mrs. Stanlock was becoming uneasy and called up her husband's office, but Mr. Stanlock had already started for home. By the time he arrived, the good woman was almost prostrated, so rapidly, worth fear and apprehension, taking possession of her. The big coal operator centered danger at once. Immediately after gathering the principal details of the day's occurrences, he got the police station on the wire and communicated them to the officer in charge. Drastic measures were resorted to at once. The day shift of uniformed and ununiformed guardians of the law was summoned back to duty, and a posse of available citizens was sworn in. About seven o'clock, a posse of citizen policemen, led by three or four uniformed members of the regular force, begun a canvas at the neighbourhood to discover information that might suggest a clue as to the whereabouts of the missing girls. Half an hour later, a woman informed one of the canvases that she had seen eight or ten girls into the yard at the old Buckholz Place between three and four o'clock, but had not noticed whether they went into the house or not. The man to whom this statement was made blew a whistle as an agreed signal to the other searches that he had important information and soon a score of them were running toward him from all directions. A comparison of notes disclosed the fact that another member of the party of canvases had received a similar statement from another resident in the neighbourhood. It was decided therefore to delay no further but to proceed at once to the house in question, while one of the men hastened to Mr Stanlock with news of developments in order that he might be present and direct the next move. The latter was waiting at home, ready to answer a telephone or personal call from any of the central points of investigation. The nervous strain of the apparent certainty by this time that the disappearance of Marion and her guests pretended serious developments and compelled Mr Stanlock to take to her bed and summon physician and a nurse. The call from the searches in the neighbourhood took Mr Stanlock from her bedside, and so speedily did he respond to it that he was at the entrance of the Buckholz House almost as soon as the party of citizens and uniform policemen. Don't hesitate men, he urged. I know the owner of this house very well, and I will take all responsibility for damages on my own shoulders. If the door won't give, break it down. Maybe there is somebody at home, Lieutenant Larkin suggested. Let's ring the bell first. Well come on, said Mr Stanlock. We'll soon find out if there's anyone in the house. He led the way up the weather beaten, but fairly well preserved steps, and pulled the knob at the old fashioned doorbell. Then they waited expectantly, straining their ears to catch the sound at the approach of someone within. But no such sound reached them. It appearing evident now that the house was temporarily without an inmate, the searches for the thirteen mysteriously vanished girls decided to force their way in. Under ordinary conditions, this act would have been recognised as burglary, but the present circumstances were so extraordinary that legal consequences had no terrors for any of those present. Accordingly an examination was made at the two first story windows, two of which were found unlocked. With the aid of a box discovered under the rear porch, several of the men climbed in one by one, and found themselves in a large, unfurnished room, architecturally intended, perhaps as a dining room. Each of the three uniformed policemen carried an electric flashlight, and with the aid of these, an examination at the house was begun. But not a trace of the missing girls could be found. What next, one of the men asked. The basement suggested Lieutenant Larkin. Mr Stanlock opened the door at the head of the stairway, and flashed his light down the steps. Wait a minute, he said, barring the entrance. Let's examine the ground as we go. These steps have dust on them, and there are shoe prints in the dust. And yes, sir, as sure as you are alive, they are the prints of women's shoes, and there are a lot of them, unless I'm mistaken. Be careful now, men. Follow me single file and come down along the left side of the stairway, as close the wall as possible so as not to spoil those footprints in the dust. Look out, said Mr Stanlock. There may be some desperate characters down there with guns. Better let me go first. I have most at stake. Not much, replied the Lieutenant, will never win the European War without charging the trenches. All I ask is that you get the fellow that gets me, so here goes. Cautiously, he descended the stairs, followed by the five men who had entered the house with him. But their anticipations were groundless. Not a sign of human life did they find in the large square deep basement or cellar more properly. Some of the men looked puzzled. Mr Stanlock was evidently laboring under increasing stress, but Lieutenant Larkin's curiosity seemed to grow. Some queer stories have been told about this place, he said, and I'm wondering if now it's not the time to put them to a test. They are pretty wild stories, almost as wild as haunted house yarns, but there may be a thing to them. I've heard something about them myself, said Mr Stanlock. You referred to the stories about the building of this house over an old mine, I suppose? This cellar was said to have been the mouth of the shaft of the mine enlarged. That's it, the Lieutenant replied. Now let's look about and see if there is anything to it. He began to flash his light over the floor, walls and contents of the cellar. The latter consisted principally of barrels, boxes and a nondescript pile of scrap lumber. Most of this was heaped against the south wall. Presently something in the pile of lumber held the attention of the Lieutenant, who began to examine it more closely. Look here, he said, addressing Mr Stanlock. Do you see any difference between this pile of lumber and that dry goods box over there? I was just noticing that there was a heavy covering of dust on the box, and little or none on the top pieces of lumber, the mine owner answered. That's just it, continued Lieutenant Larkin, and it can mean only one thing, that this pile of lumber has been moved recently. Now the question, in view of the fact that the missing girls were seen entering this place today, and in view of the shoe prints on the cellar stairway, and the fact that they are not in the basement now is, why? The best way to find out is to move it again, suggested Sergeant Higgins. Exactly, agreed his superior officer. Now, Johnson, you go upstairs and inform the other men what we are doing. We don't want them down here, for there's nothing they can do. Moreover, we don't want any more traveling up and down those steps than is absolutely necessary. Be careful, Johnson, on your way up. Excuse me, Lieutenant, interposed Mr Stanlock in a weak voice that bespoke the distress under which he was laboring. I think I won't remain down here just now. I'll go up and carry that message to the men, if you wish. Let me know as soon as you can what you find. End of Chapter 15. Chapter 16 of Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains by Stella M. Francis. Chapter 16. Helen and the Strike Leaders' Wife. But what had become of Helen Nash? It was a very determined little woman who stole out of the Stanlock residence with the contents of the last threatening letter fresh in her memory after the return of the members of Flamingo Camp Fire from their Sunday afternoon drive. She walked briskly four blocks east and boarded a streetcar. A 20-minute ride took her into the heart of the Mining Tenement District, referenced to an address memorandum on a slip of paper that she carried in her handbag and a question to the conductor determined where she should get off. Heaver Street, the conductor told her, was three blocks west. With no evidence of a slackening of resolution, she proceeded as directed and was soon searching a long row of cottages built along almost identical lines for number 632. Reaching this number, she ascended a flight of seven or eight steps and gave a quick turn to the old-fashioned 15 or 20 cent trip-action doorbell. A pale-faced, care-worn woman of about 30 years, who might have been mistaken for 40, answered the ring. At sight of the caller, she exclaimed in a voice that echoed years of toil and suffering. Helen, now, was the greeting returned by the caller. The woman stepped aside, and Helen stepped into a hall, whose sole furnishing consisted of a rag-rug on the floor and a cheap hall-tree with a cracked mirror. Evidently, it was the chief wardrobe of the house, for upon the 20 or more nails driven into the walls in fairly regular order were articles of both men's and women's wear, most of them bearing evidence of contact with hard labour. From the hall, Helen was conducted into the front room, the only name it was ever known by, which communicated with the dining room through a cased opening without porters. These two rooms were about as barely furnished as possible under a minimum of necessary articles and quality. A threadbare ingrown carpet covered the floor of the front room. A few rag-rugs hid probably some of the worst gaps in the matching of the yellow pine floor of the dining room. As for human life in this house of pinch and poverty, it was hardly vigorous enough to attract attention ahead of the furnishings. Clinging to the faded skirts of their mother were three hungry-eyed anemic children, a girl and two boys. How are you now? inquired Helen, giving the woman a kiss that seemed almost to frighten her. It's been two years since I've seen you. I'm not very well, Helen, the other replied wearily, I've about given up all hope of ever seeing any better days. But what brings you here? I didn't expect ever to see you again. Now, now, don't talk that way, Helen protested. You know, or maybe, you don't know it, that I would do anything in the world to help you out of this unhappy condition, but Dave's way of looking at things makes it impossible. If you had any vitality, I would urge you to leave him and earn your own living. But I haven't any left, Helen, said the discouraged woman, and I don't believe I'll ever recover any. I've rested hope after hope on Dave's assurances of his ability to make a success in life. Really, he's a queer genius, and I don't use the word genius entirely with disrespect. In some ways, he's clever, very clever, but in other ways, he's the most impossible man you ever knew. I believe he is thoroughly honest, that he has no idea of the value of money or what it means to his family. I believe he is by far the strongest leader among the men, but it does neither him nor his family any good. Many a labour leader would make such power and position a source of revenue for himself, but not Dave. Instead, half of his earnings, when he works, are devoted to the labour cause. How does he get such a hold on the miners, Helen inquired. By talk, just talk, and really, I must admit, he is the cleverest speaker I ever heard. I've seen an audience of a thousand working men and women stand on their tiptoes and cheer him, as if they would burst their lungs. I was proud of him on such occasions, but when we got home to our stale bread and soup, I could not help wondering if it was not all a dream, and I had not just waked up to the reality of things. When will he be home? I wish I could tell you, the woman said helplessly. He may be here in five minutes, and he may not come home before twelve or one o'clock tonight. Right here is where the holiday charity work at the Flamingo campfire begins, she told herself, then allowed, she added. I haven't had much to eat since morning, couldn't eat much this noon in my condition of mind, and I'm hungry. What have you in the house for a Sunday evening lunch now? Not much, Helen, was the reply. Only half a loaf of rye bread and some corn molasses. The children used to be very fond of that, but they've had it so often since the strike began, that they're almost sick of it. Is there any store open near here where I can go and buy something? There's a bakery and delicatessen over on the street where the car line runs. It's probably open now. Will I find a drugstore over there too? I want to use the telephone. Yes, you'll find a drugstore on that street, a block north. I'll go at once and you set the table while I'm gone. We'll have a feast that will delight the hearts and stomachs of these little ones. God bless you, Helen. Were the last words that fell on her ears as she went out? I must call up Marion and tell her where I am. She mused as she hastened toward the drugstore. I would have told her where I was going before I left, but I was afraid she wouldn't let me go. Besides, I don't feel like telling her everything yet. A few minutes later, she was in the drugstore, applying for permission to use the telephone. The phone is out of order, the drugist replied. Oh, Helen exclaimed in disappointment. Where is there another in the neighborhood? There is none within half a mile that I know of, except in the cellones, was the reply. I can't go there, the girl said desperately, and I must have a telephone soon. Won't yours be fixed before long? I hope so, said the drugist. I've sent in a call for a repairman. Can't you come back in an hour or two? Yes, I think so, Helen said, turning to go. I do hope it is repaired then, because it is very important. End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17 at Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains. This Libra Box recording is in the public domain. Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains by Stella M. Francis. Chapter 17 Helen declares herself. Twenty minutes later, Helen returned to her brother's home. Her arms loaded with cured meats, bread, a pie, some frosted cupcakes, a glass of jam, and a bottle of stuffed olives. There, she said, as she deposited her bountenous burden on the table. I couldn't get any tea or sugar or butter, but even without those, we can have quite a feast in a very short jiffy. I had some tea and some light brown sugar, which the children like on their bread for a change after they've got tired of corn syrup, Mrs Nash said. Good, exclaimed Helen with genuine enthusiasm. That's fine. Butter and white sugar are unnecessary luxuries sometimes. Now, we'll get busy and we'll soon be feasting like a royal family. And there was no mistake in her prediction. True, it was an extremely democratic royalty, proletariat, to be more exact. But no child prince or princess ever enjoyed the richest vines in a king's dining room more than little Margaret, Ernest and Joseph Nash enjoyed the feast spread before them by the girl auntie they had not seen for two years. The conversation between Helen and Mrs Nash, interrupted by the former's errand to the delicatessen and drugstores, was taken up again at the table at the royal feast. The way the children laughed and armed, armed over the goodies, did Helen's heart good and rendered even cheerful her discussion of a distressing subject. What in the world ever brought you here, Helen, was the question put by Mrs Nash, after full confidence in the sincerity of Helen's mission. Whatever it was, had supplied her with courage to converse with her sister-in-law with perfect frankness. You didn't come to Holy Hill just to visit us, did you? No, I didn't. Helen answered slowly, and that fact need not hurt your feelings any now. You'll understand what I mean when I've finished my story. I am attending a girl's school at Westmoreland. We are all campfire girls, and thirteen of us and a guardian came to Holy Hill on a mission in harmony with campfire teachings, that is to work among the poor and suffering families of the strikers during the holidays. What? exclaimed Mrs Nash. Do you mean to tell me that you are one of the girls visiting at the home of Old Stanlock, the mine owner? Yes, I am, Helen replied, looking curiously at the startled woman. Then you mustn't stay here any longer. You must hurry right back. You are in great danger, I tell you. Very great danger. The fact of your being my husband's sister won't do you any good. There are some bad men around here, and they're as smart as they are bad. Sometimes I wonder if they are really miners, or if they are not an accomplished bunch of professional crooks. What makes you think that, Helen inquired? Well, for one reason, I've been told it. But before anybody uttered such a suspicion in my hearing, I suspected something wrong. You see, while Dave seems to be the leader in the strike, he is in fact only a puppet in the hands of a band of the worst kind of crooks, who are using him to keep the miners in line. Who are they? asked Helen. I don't know them all, I know of only half a dozen. They had been here at the house a number of times. The man who seems to dominate them all is a man known as Gunpowder Jerry. A powerful, cunning, sly-eyed fellow about 45 years old. He is the business agent at the Union and runs everything, although few persons know it. In some mysterious way, he's got a very strong hold on Dave, and can make him do anything he wants him to. Why do you think I am in danger here? was Helen's next question. Because I've heard some talk here about what would happen if you girls attempted to carry out your plans. They had a spy, a chauffeur, in Mr. Stanlock's home, and he found out all about it. Jerry used this to work up bad blood among the strikers, using Dave as his tool as usual. The threat reached my ears that if you girls came down here in mining town, you would never get out alive. They think it is just a move to put something over. Did you know that Dave came to Westmoreland a few weeks ago and called at the Institute to see me? Helen asked. No, did he? What for? I thought he didn't have any use for you. Excuse me for putting it that way, but it's the way he talks. I suppose so. That's because we objected so much to his way of doing. But I found out on that occasion that there really was a tender place in his heart for us. He wanted me to do something to call off our vacation plans, as he was afraid something would happen. Why didn't you? Because I didn't take him very seriously. But when on the day before we started for Holy Hill, I happened into the post office at Westmoreland and caught him in the act of mailing a letter to Marian Stanlock. I became somewhat alarmed. I forced the truth from him after the letter was mailed. He said he was sending her a threatening letter in the hope that it would break up our plans. I asked him why he came to Westmoreland to mail it. He replied that he was afraid it would be traced to him if he mailed it in Holy Hill. Then he urged me, almost commanded me, to prevent our plans from being carried out. He declared that every one of us would probably be killed if we came. I promised to do my best. I watched Marian, hoping to see her read the threatening letter. I saw after it was laid on her desk in her room. I saw her glance at it and put it into her handbag before she went to bed. Next morning I waved her early and laid the handbag right before her eyes, hoping she would take the letter out and read it. I did not dare to do anything more, but resolved to watch the events closely. Marian read the letter on the train and was signed with a skull and crossbones. We decided to give up our original plans, but came on to Holy Hill. What did you hope to accomplish by coming to see Dave, Mrs Nash, inquired? I am going to put the matter right square up to him and demand that he lay bare the whole plot that he has been hinting at. If he doesn't, I am going to tell him that I am going to lay the whole matter before the police. You will probably have to do it. I don't believe he'll ever betray the men who control his gifts and his weaknesses as they would handle a child. He really is a child in some respects, isn't he? Absolutely. In fact, I believe he is half sane and half insane, and he is just smooth enough to conceal his insanity from the minus. Have you any objection now to my going after him good and strong, Helen asked? Not in the least. I wish you would, only I'm afraid the results won't be of much advantage to any of us. And I wish you wouldn't stay here late, for I am afraid to have you start back alone after dark. I'll make him take me back, Helen said resolutely, and I want to reassure you in one respect, if you are afraid of consequences to yourself and the children. I don't let that bother you, Mrs Nash interrupted. You couldn't make conditions much worse than they are now, and you may accidentally make them better. But I have something to say that you ought to know, Helen continued. When father died, it was generally supposed that he left nothing for his family. For years he drew a good salary as a mining superintendent. Well, he didn't leave much, except about $5,000 insurance, but mother had been saving for years secretly, not even letting him know how much he had. He supposed we were living up his salary of $10,000 a year as we went along, for it wasn't in him to save a cent. Mother took a good deal of delight in her secret. For a while she had done her best to induce him to save something, and then realizing that her plea was futile, she got busy herself in a systematic manner, and in the course of seven or eight years, she laid aside something like $25,000. But shortly before father's death, something happened that caused her to guard her secret up to the present time. A large amount of money was stolen from the company that employed father, and mother realized at once that if it were discovered that she had so much money, suspicion might be directed toward him. In fact, she took me into her confidence only about a year ago. Now mother has often said that she would like to do something for you and the children, but Dave's peculiarities always stood in the way. I just wanted to tell you that mother is able and willing to help you, and will not let you or her grandchildren suffer as a result of what I may be forced to do. The conversation went along in this manner for more than an hour. Neither of the sister-in-laws realized how rapidly the time was flying until dusk fell so heavily that it became necessary to light the gas in order to see each other's faces. My, what time is it? Helen questioned, looking at her watch. Why? It's nearly seven o'clock, and I haven't telephoned to Marion yet. They'll have the whole police force out looking for me if I don't get her on the wire pretty soon. I'll run over and see if that phone is repaired yet. If it isn't, I'll have to take a car and ride on to the next drug store, but I'll be back before very long. I wish she wouldn't come back tonight, Helen. Mrs. Nash pleaded. I'm so afraid of those men. Why not go straight to Stanlocks and send word to Dave that you wish to meet him somewhere tomorrow? I'd rather handle it this way. The girl answered a little stubbornly. I tell you what I'll do. I'll have them send the shopper with the automobile over here after me. That'll be the best way. With this reassuring announcement, Helen put on her coat and hat and went out. But she would not have proceeded so confidently if she could have caught a glimpse of the figure of a man dashing far up the alley in the rear and have realised that this man had crouched in a knee-dropping attitude for an hour or more at the kitchen door and overheard most of the conversation between her and her sister-in-law. One, two blocks he ran, then threw a gateway and into a house similar to nearly every other house in the street. Two men, a woman and a child, 10 years old, looked expectantly toward him as he entered. Already cried the latter. She's coming down the street on this side. Hurry up, Lizzie. Get your coat and hood on. Remember what you are to say. Father gone, mother sick. If she won't come in with a little begging, make a big fuss. Cry and plead for all your work. There you are. Already? Remember, you get a new coat if you bring her in here. The speaker opened the door and almost shoved the pale-faced, trembling child out upon her strange mission. End of Chapter 17, Chapter 18 of Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains by Stella M. Francis, Chapter 18, Helen in the Mountains. It was snowing. The flakes that fell were not large, fluffy ones. They were small and compact, so that as the northwest wind drove them into Helen's face, she realized that she was being pelted with something more substantial than idle down. The severity of the storm startled the girl. It splurred her to a fuller consciousness of her obligation to her friends, that she remove from their minds all occasion for worry, as to her whereabouts as soon as possible. Putting her muff up to shield her face from the cutting blast, Helen set out bravely up the street. She was not a timid or timorous girl. In fact, the words of warning uttered by her sister-in-law had made no lasting impression on her mind, so far as her own personal safety was concerned. She scarcely thought of looking out for danger from any human agency as she left the house. As the storm was beating into her face, she did not attempt to look ahead much farther than each step as it was taken. It was necessary for her to lean forward slightly and push her head, as it were, right into the storm, and before she had reached the nearest corner, it became evident that she must undergo no little inconvenience, if not actual suffering, before her evening's mission were completed. Well, maybe this exercise will give me just the life I need to talk real business today when it comes, she mused, punctuating her conjecture with a gasp or two as she fought against a gust of wind that forced her almost to a standstill. Winning this skirmish with the storm she pressed forward again, when suddenly another gasp was forced from her by an entirely different cause. She almost stumbled over an object directly in her way, and as she recovered her equilibrium, she recognised before her the form of a small girl, scantily clad in a short-sleeved coat, much too small for her, and a hood that came down scarcely far enough to cover her ears. Her hands were bare, and she held them up pitifully, before the comfortably, to her, richly, clad maiden sewed out of her element in this poverty-stricken district. Please, miss, the girl pleaded. Won't you come and help me? Ma's sick, she fainted, and Pa's gone away. I'm all alone with her. Ma's down on the floor, and don't move. I'm afraid she's dead. Oh, please do come, miss, just a minute, and where do you live? Helen interrupted, indicating by her tone of sympathy that she would do as requested. Right there the little girl replied, pointing with a hand toward one of the houses a short distance ahead. Come on, please, just a minute, help me get Ma on the bed. I'll find one of the neighbours to help after that. All right, go ahead, Helen directed. It seems that I am fated to do at least a little of the work that we set out to do, that we're prevented from doing by some unfriendly interests. It's a pity some of these people are so prejudiced, for we could really do a lot for them. Helen's small conductress led the way to the entrance of a minor's cottage, that, to all outward appearance from the front, was dark within. Haven't you any light? She asked a little apprehensively, drawing back as if hesitating to enter. Oh, yes, the other replied almost eagerly, it seemed. There's the lamp burning in the kitchen, and I'll light the gas in the front room. Come on, please. Where is your mother? She's laying down on the floor in the kitchen. Come on, I've got a match. I'll light the gas in the front room. If Helen had obeyed a strong impulse that was tugging within her to hold her back, she would have refused to enter. Perhaps the reason she did not obey that impulse was the fact, that a desperate effort to think of another reasonable method of procedure was fruitless, and she must either go ahead as she had started, or turn away in confusion, and leave the little girl in her distress, and without an explanation. The latter opened the door, and Helen followed her inside. It was difficult for the visiting campfire girl to figure out any reason, while she should be fearful of anything this slip of a child might do. And yet, the first act at the latter, after they were inside, sent through her a chill of terror. Slipping around her like an eel, the little emissary of trouble pushed the door to and turned the key in the lock. Helen was certain also that she heard the key withdrawn from the lock. Still her conductress, clever little confidence girl that she was, spoke words of reassurance that dispelled some of her victim's fears. Wait! she said. I dropped my match. I'll have to go in the kitchen for another. Helen's eyes followed the dim form of the child, as the latter moved across the room, and observed for the first time a line of light under what appeared to be a door between the front room and the kitchen. A moment later the door swung open, and she was considerably relieved when she saw lying on the floor the apparently limp and unconscious form of a woman. Instantly the rescuers campfire training in the reviving of the person from a faint stimulated in her assorted a professional interest in the task before her, and she started forward to begin work at once. First she must loosen her patient's clothing to make it as easy as possible for her to breathe. Then she must get her in a supine position with her head slightly lower than any other part of her body in order that the brain might get a plentiful supply of blood. The air in the house was heavy and stuffy. The front and rear doors must be thrown open. She must dash cold water upon the face and chest of the patient and rub her limbs toward her body. She ought to have some smelling salts or ammonia, but as these were lacking she must get along without them, unless the daughter of the unconscious woman were able to supply something of the sort. These things flashed through Helen's well-trained mind as she moved rapidly toward the kitchen. All apprehension of treachery left her as she beheld the evidence corroborating the story of distress that had brought her into the house. Then suddenly the whole apparent situation was transformed into one of the most terrifying character. A slight noise to her right caused her to turn. Then a piercing scream escaped her lips as she saw a door open and beheld the dim outlines of two burly men approaching her. At the sound of her cry of alarm they dashed forward like two wild beasts. The first one seized her around the neck to shut off further alarm as those muscular fingers closed in upon her throat. It seemed suddenly as if her head were about to burst. Then as the thumping in her ears almost completed the deadening of her auditory nerves, she distinctly heard these words uttered in a hoarse voice. Look out Bill, don't kill her. As if surprised back into his senses, Bill loosened his whole on Helen's throat. She did not struggle or attempt to cry out again. Evidently the purpose of the Ruffians did not contemplate murder and she realised that there was no wisdom in anything but submission on her part now. But she was not given time to recover completely before the next move of her captors was made. While one of them held her in a vice like grip, the other shoved a gag into her mouth and tied the attached strings tightly around the base of her head. Then he bound her hands together in front of her with a strip of cloth. There said the man whom the other had addressed as Bill. You set down in that chair and keep still and you won't get hurt. But the instant you go to making any record you're liable to breathe your last. All right Jake go and get the machine. Jake the exclamation though not uttered was real enough in her mind even with the deafening pulse of choking confusion in her head it had seemed that there was something familiar in the man's voice when he warned Bill not to kill her. Was it possible that this was Mr. Stanlock's former automobile driver? Jake went out the back way closing the door between the front room and the kitchen as he went. Helen was now left alone in darkness with Bill who she thankfully observed seemed disposed to pay no attention to her so long as she remained quietly in the old loose jointed rocking chair in which she was seated. Ten minutes later an automobile drove up in front of the house and Jake reappeared. It's almost stopped snowing luckily he remarked or we have our trouble making this trip tonight. A little more snow and a little more drifting and we'd been a pretty pickle. Helen was certain she recognized Jake's voice now. How she wished she could get a glimpse of his face in even the poorest candlelight. Bill now threw a large shawl over her head and brought it around so that it concealed both the gag over her mouth and the rag manacle on her wrists. Then he pinned it carefully so that it might not slip ory and ordered her to go with him quietly out to the automobile. Jake had just made an inspection up and down the street and reported the coast clear. Now mind you young lady Bill warned significantly not a word or a wiggle out of the ordinary or you'll get your final choke and you know what that means. Yes Helen knew and she had no intention of futile provoking a repetition of such punishment. She accompanied her captors submissibly and was assisted into the machine. Then something happened which might almost be said to have delighted her if it were not for the strain of the numbing fear that was gripping her. Jake went around in front of the machine to crank it up. For one moment the strong acetylene light from one of the lamps fell upon his face. Helen recognised her surmise as to his identity was not a mistake. A minute later the automobile was travelling at a high rate of speed over the streets. Ten minutes later it passed the city limits and was kicking the three inches of snow up along a country highway on on its bed one mile two miles on on until the probable distance Helen was unable to conjecture on on over smooth roads and rough roads uphill and downhill into the mountains. Then suddenly Bill who sat in the seat beside her pulled a lightweight muffler from his pocket and tied it over Helen's eyes saying coarsely, not that I'm afraid you'll do any mischief with those pretty eyes of yours but we may as well guard against accidents. You couldn't trace this route again anyway could you? Helen did not attempt to answer with either a shake or a nod overhead. She was disappointed at the act of her captor in blindfolding her for she had been watching their course as closely as possible in order to photograph it upon her mind for future reference. Jake was a good driver, that much must be said for him and yet after they struck the mountain road the progress was much slower. From the time when her eyes were bandaged Helen's only means of determining the character of the road over which they were traveling was the speed or slowness of the automobile. Nor could she compute satisfactorily the time that passed during the rest of the trip but it ended at last. The machine stopped Helen knew not where and she was assisted out by the two men who led her still blindfolded along a fairly smooth trail up the side of a mountain or steep hill. Then along a fairly level stretch until at last the prisoner knew that she was passing under a canopy or roof of some sort for there was no snow underfoot. Moreover their footfalls produced a sound somewhat of the nature of a soft resonant reverberation of a million tiny echoes but presently they were out in the open again as evidenced by the snow and the brisker atmosphere and Helen shrewdly observed to herself that was a tunnel I bet anything 200 feet farther up another gentle incline they reached a place of habitation and entered. Helen had no idea as to the appearance of the exterior but when bandage was removed from her eyes and she was able to look about her she made a clever surmise not very far from the truth that she was in a long cabin every inch of the walls and ceiling except the windows and doors were plastered the doors and windows were fitted in the crudest kind of casing a few untrained colored pictures were pasted on the walls the furniture of the room consisted of a few chairs a table and an old trunk a kerosene lamp on the table lighted the room here's one of the mag said bill addressing a large course featured but remarkably shrewd eyed woman who opened the door and received them can you keep her safe you bet your bottom dollar I can keep her safe as long as there is any dough in it for me was the reply in almost a man's voice well get into good practice on this one a keeping prisoners the first speaker advised we're going to have a dozen more here before long and then you will have some job end of chapter 18 chapter 19 of campfire girls in the elegani mountains this liber box recording is in the public domain campfire girls in the elegani mountains by stellar m francis chapter 19 the subterranean avenue for more than half an hour mr stanlock waited upstairs nervously eagerly expectantly apprehensively for a report from lieutenant larkin and the four men who remained in the cellar at the backholz house to move the pile of scrap lumber under which it was suspected might be found a clue as to the whereabouts of the missing 12 girls interest in the search within the building had suspended other activities in the neighborhood as it was felt that further progress might depend upon results at this point so the score or more of uniformed and citizen policemen waited as patiently as they could in or around the house of mystery becoming more and more impatient as the minutes grew into the 20s and then the 30s and still nobody came upstairs to announce indications of success or failure the noise of the striking pieces of lumber against one another had not been heard for more than 20 minutes in fact no sound of any kind came up the cellar way following the first quarter of an hour of rapid labour on the part of the five active searches below at last one of the men more nervously eager for information than the rest shouted down the cellar way to the lieutenant inquiring how he and his helpers were getting on there was no answer he shouted again still no reply then he announced his intention to descend into the cellar to investigate wait said mr stanlock there are some tracks in the dust on the steps and lieutenant larkin doesn't want them disturbed let me go although his apprehensions had not diminished the mine owners nerve was considerably strengthened by this time perhaps as a result of his return from a stuffy basement atmosphere into a region of better ventilation as he started down the steps with the flashlight of one of the policemen in his hand he was surprised to feel a strong current of wind blowing upward into his face they must have opened one of the windows he surmised but he quickly dismissed the suggestion after flashing his light around the cellar the pile of lumber had been moved to the opposite side and in the section of the floor it had formerly occupied was a whole three feet in diameter that's where the wind comes from mr stanlock decided it's the mouth of the old mine we used to hear about years ago but where's the other opening funny nobody knows about that this end has been covered up with that old heavy door and concealed with the layer of earth when our men moved the pile of lumber they observed that the earth had been disturbed recently and shoveled it away and found this hole mr stanlock directed the razor blight into the hole and discovered a flight of steps cut into the hard clay the lieutenant and his men are down in there he concluded i think i'll follow them he descended cautiously into the hole half a dozen irregularly formed steps brought him to a slope leading downward on an inclined plane of six or seven degrees he was astonished at the degree of preservation of the walls sealing and supports considering the years that had elapsed since the mine was last worked the passage continued as a downward slope for about 50 yards and then became almost level for a life distance only in two places had the walls or ceiling fallen into any considerable extent and in neither of those places was the obstruction so great as to constitute an impassable barrier as he proceeded mr stanlock peered ahead anxiously in the hope that he would discover the lights of lieutenant larkin and his companions but he walked nearly a hundred yards through an irregular and characteristically jagged passage before he caught sight of anything indicating that there was anybody besides himself in the abandoned mine then suddenly rounding a sharp point he came upon the advanced party of searches approaching him what did you find the mine owner inquired before any surprise greetings could be exchanged there's another outlet to this place somewhere isn't there yes there is was the reply of the officer in charge this gallery runs on for another hundred yards piercing holly hill right through the center you know the bluff and the rocky slope behind the old mill well it seems that this mine was cut right through at that point but there was a cave in that filled up the opening these rascals that kidnapped the girls evidently were associated with the people that rented the back holds place and cut the passage through the girls have been here all right but they're gone they've been taken out of this end of the mine and spirited away in some manner this means that the scoundrels have a larger and more effective organization than we have ever suspected such a case of wholesale kidnapping was never heard of before how can you tell they passed through here mr stanlock asked by this principally the lieutenant answered holding up a woman's handkerchief that had been picked up and by the fact that there is a trail in the snow from the opening of the mine to the alley behind the old mill mr stanlock's face shone deathly pale in the glare of the flashlights the new element of suspense had brought him again to the danger point of collapse that had compelled him to withdraw from the active search nearly an hour before his voice reflected the distressing strain under which he was laboring as he put his next question what became of them then that's the problem we've got to solve larkin replied apparently they were loaded in automobiles and rushed off to some retreat of the scoundrels how in the world could they do it without somebody seeing or hearing what was going on oh said the lieutenant without a suggestion of doubt in his voice that wasn't very difficult if there were enough of them working together the evidence of cleverness and skill is not merely so much in the handling of this affair at the mill end of the mine as at the house end that was a mighty smooth piece of work getting all of those girls into that old house however it was done mark my word you'll find that a very clever trap was set for them but come on we've got to get busy before the snow makes it impossible to follow them end of chapter 19