The Phantom Town Mystery. Norton Carol
scribble interrupted. “She’s a mean, horrid, misrepresenting person, Polly Perkins is! She knows perfectly well we had to go to the village to get a pound of butter for our camp mother, and wasn’t it only polite for us to give that poor stranded boy a lift? He is a real decent sort, even though the only thing he’s crazy about is flying, but we did learn something about him. His father has some sort of a government position in Arizona, where you are, no less. I mean, in the same state, and when Harry gets his pilot’s license, he is to be a flying scout, he told us. He said it will be an awfully exciting life. When there has been a holdup out there on a stage or a train and the bandits leap on to their horses and flee across the border, Harry is to pursue them in his little silver plane and see where they go. Then he’ll circle back to where a posse is waiting, notify them, and so the bandits will be captured. Won’t that be simply too thrilling for words? Oh, why wasn’t I born a boy? I could have been Patrick, then, instead of Patsy. Believe me, when Harry Hulbert gets his license, and it won’t be long now – he’s that good – don’t I wish I could be a stowaway in his plane! We’d have to leave Polly here though. She’s so heavy, the plane wouldn’t be able to get off of the ground.”
The lazy scrawl concluded the epistle. “If Patsy goes West, so do I, but I’ll go by train. I have no romantic urge to take to the air with slim, goggle-eyed young men with a purpose in life.
“Our camp mother (nice Mrs. Higgins, Jane’s aunt, came with us this year) is calling us to lunch, and right after that Pat and I are going to town to mail this. Pat wants me to say that when her friend Mister Harry Hulbert does fly West, she’ll give him a letter of introduction to you two and I calls that right generous of her considering – ”
“Pouff!” came a brief interruption. Then “Goodbye. We’re signing off. Patsy Ordelle and Polly Perkins of the famous Sunnybank Seminary Quadralettes.”
“What a jolly letter!” Mary said. “Wouldn’t it be fun if the missing members of our little clan could be here with us. Patsy is as wild about mystery stories as you are and this ghost town just teems with them.”
A rich, musical voice drifted up from the back porch, “Señoritas!”
“Oh, good! There’s Carmelita calling us to supper, and am I hungry?” Dora tossed the letter on the dresser and slipping an arm about her friend, she gave her a little impulsive hug.
“I don’t envy Pat and Poll, not the least little mite,” she said as they went down the broad front stairway together. “It is lovely at Camp Winnichook as we well know, since we’ve been there with them the past three summers, but the desert has a lure for me that the little blue lake in the mountains never did have.”
“I know,” Mary agreed. “Those mountains are more like pretty hills. There’s nothing grim or grand about them.”
They entered a large, pleasant kitchen, in one corner of which, between two windows, was a table spread with a red cloth. A good-looking middle-aged Mexican woman, dressed in bright colors, stood at the stove preparing to dish up their meal. “Buenos dias, niñas,” she said in her deep, musical voice.
“Good evening, Carmelita,” the girls replied, and then, when they had been served generous portions of the Americanized Mexican dish which the girls called “tamale pie,” Dora flashed at the smiling cook a pleased glance as she said, “Muchas gracias, Señora.”
Then to Mary, “It doesn’t take long to use up all the Spanish I know. Let’s take a vow that when we go back to Sunnybank Seminary next fall we will add Spanish to – ” A wistful expression in her friend’s face caused Dora to pause and exclaim in real alarm, “Mary Moore, do you think, because of your dad, that you won’t be able to go back East to school? You have only one year more before you graduate. You know how we four of ‘The Quadralettes’ have counted on graduating together.”
Mary smiled brightly. “Of course, I expect to go and take Dad with me.” Her momentary wistful doubting had passed.
They had finished their supper and were rising when Carmelita, who had been out on the back porch, hurried in and began a rapid chattering in her own language. The mystified girls could not understand one word. But, as the Mexican woman kept pointing out toward the road, they felt sure that someone was coming toward the house, nor were they wrong.
CHAPTER IV
“DESPERATE DICK”
Skipping to the vine-covered back porch, the two girls peered through the deepening dusk at the approaching car. In it were two boys.
“One of them resembles Jerry,” Mary said, “but the other one is also a cowboy, so it can’t be Dick.”
“It is Dick!” Dora exclaimed gleefully. “Jerry must have loaned him some cowboy togs.”
“Oh, Happy Days!” Mary exulted. “Now we can ask Jerry about that Evil Eye Turquoise and all the rest of the story about poor Mr. Lucky Loon.”
“If there is any rest to it,” Dora remarked. “Look!” she interrupted herself to point laughingly at the little car that was rattling toward them. “Dick is waving his sombrero. He wants us to be sure and take notice of it!”
“Isn’t he proud though?” Mary chuckled. “His face fairly shines.”
Then, as the small car drew up near the porch, the girls clapped their hands gaily, and yet quietly, remembering that Mary’s invalid father might be asleep.
“Oh, Dick,” Dora exclaimed, not trying to hide her admiration, “your mother must see her to-be-physician son. You make a regular screen-star cowboy, doesn’t he, Mary?”
Before the other girl could reply, Dick, who had leaped to the ground, struck a ridiculous pose as he said in a deep, dramatic voice, “Dick, the Desperate Range Rider.”
Dora’s infectious laugh rang out. “Your big, dark eyes look so solemn through those shell-rimmed glasses, Mr. Desperate Dick, that somehow you fail to strike terror into our hearts,” she bantered.
Then Mary smiled up at Jerry, who was standing near her. Half teasingly she asked, “To what do we owe the honor of this visit? When we parted this afternoon, you called ‘we’ll see you tomorrow.’”
Jerry glanced at the other boy, mischievous twinkles in his gray eyes. “You might as well ’fess up, old man. Truth is, Dick couldn’t wait until tomorrow to let you girls admire him in his cowboy togs.”
“Villain!” Dick tried to glower at his betraying friend, but ended by beaming upon him with a most friendly grin. “I suppose I had to rope you and drag you over here quite against your will.”
Jerry’s smile at the curly-headed little girl at his side revealed, more than words, the real reason of his coming. What he said was, “Mom had a letter she wanted mailed and – er – as long as Dick wanted to show off, I reckoned – ”
“Oh, Jerry,” Mary caught his arm, “it really doesn’t matter in the least why you came. I was wild to see you – ” then, when the tall cowboy began to glow with pride, Mary quite spoiled her compliment by hurrying to add, “Oh, it wasn’t you that I wanted to see.” Jerry pretended to be greatly crestfallen, so she laughingly added, “Of course I’m always glad to see you, Big Brother, but – ”
“Goodness!” Dora rushed to her friend’s rescue. “You’re getting all tangled up.” Then to Jerry, “Mary and I are wild to know more about that awfully desolate stone house you showed us this afternoon and about the Evil Eye Turquoise – ”
“Yes, and about poor Mr. Lucky Loon – ” Mary put in.
“Rather a contradictory description, isn’t it?” Dick asked. “How can a man be poor and lucky all in one sentence?”
“I’ll tell you what.” Jerry had a plan to suggest. “Let’s go down to the store and get old Silas Harvey to tell us all that he knows about Lucky Loon. I reckon he’d loosen up for you girls, but he never would for me. He knows