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Pony Rider Boys on the Blue Ridge

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<h3>CHAPTER XV</h3> <h3>THE GHOST OF THE TULIP GLADE</h3> A large number of varieties of the trees of the Blue Ridge region were to be seen from their camping ground of that night. There were yellow and gray birch, hickory, the bull bay, and best of all, the giant tulip tree, one of the largest and most beautiful of the trees in all the great Ridge country. It was in a lane of tulip trees that the camp of the Pony Rider Boys was pitched. The sky being overcast, Tad had put up a tent for the guide while Chops was engaged in setting the camp to rights in other directions. This tent was located next to the one occupied by Stacy and Walter Perkins. Stacy regarded the arrangements with a satisfied grin, which Tad shrewdly interpreted. "Look here, Chunky, don't you try to play tricks on that poor guide tonight," warned Butler. "Poor fellah!" mocked Stacy, "What am I going to do if I dream of blind horses and black cats?" "Get up and stick your head in the spring. That will wake you up." "I guess I'd be awake before I got to the spring. That isn't a joke, Tad. That's just an imitation of a joke." "Don't you dare stick your head in the spring," admonished Ned. "I have to drink that water." "So do the horses," retorted Stacy. "You haven't heard them find any fault, have you?" "That's a fact, I haven't," admitted Rector sarcastically. "Perhaps that is because the horses hadn't thought of it in that light," suggested Walter. "Great head, great head," cried Stacy. "But confidentially, Tad." "Yes?" "We've missed some more biscuit," whispered the fat boy. "How many?" "Twenty since breakfast." "Didn't we eat them for dinner?" "Not a bisc." "Hm-m! You are quite sure you didn't help yourself?" questioned Tad quizzically. "Help myself? Help myself?" demanded Chunky indignantly. "Do I look as if I had twenty biscuit inside of me?" "I can't answer that question," laughed Tad. "But to return to what I was saying, are you going to behave yourself tonight?" "About what?" "About frightening Chops," insisted Tad. "I can't promise anything about my dreams. If I dream I can't help that, can I?" demanded the fat boy. "I'll tell you how to help it," spoke up Rector. "Go to bed on an empty stomach. If you will do that, I promise you that you won't dream a single dream." "I just love to dream," murmured Stacy, twiddling his thumbs and gazing soulfully up to the tops of the great tulip trees. The Professor interrupted at this juncture to say that he thought they should post a guard that night lest the mountaineers come back. Tad said he had a plan that he thought would answer fully as well. His plan, as explained to his companions, was to splice their ropes and draw them around trees close to the camp, placing the rope about a foot above the ground. "Hm-m-m-m!" reflected the Professor. "In the darkness the rope would not be discovered, and one trying to get into camp would surely trip over it," further explained Butler. "This, you understand, would make a racket that would awaken the camp." "Excellent! Excellent!" approved the Professor, rubbing his palms together enthusiastically. "I shouldn't be at all surprised to hear that one day you had invented something really worth while." "Try your skill on inventing an appetite regulator," suggested Ned. "You could try it on Chunky." "No you don't," retorted Stacy indignantly. "You don't try experiments on my food-consuming machinery. It works quite well enough as it is, though I shouldn't mind if it had a little greater capacity." No one laughed, though a pained expression might have been observed on the faces of three Pony Rider Boys. "If you had thought of the rope plan earlier, it might have saved some of us from sleepless nights," declared the Professor. "What a surprise it would be to an intruder were he literally to fall into our camp headfirst." "Haw, haw, haw!" roared Chunky. "Wha—what's the matter? Wasn't it time to laugh?" he demanded, observing the eyes of the Professor fixed reprovingly upon him. "Yes. A most excellent plan," continued the Professor, ignoring Stacy's flippant remark. "I'll fix it up right away," said Tad. "Pass over your ropes, fellows. If we rope anyone tonight it will be by his feet rather than over his head." The ropes were quickly spliced and put in place, forming an almost invisible barrier about the camp. After Tad had finished his task, Stacy fell over the rope to test it, bringing down upon him a torrent of rebuke, for he had nearly pulled the barrier down. "Don't you dare do that again," warned Tad. "I don't propose to have my work spoiled just to please your curiosity." "Pshaw! Wasn't the rope put there to fall over?" demanded the fat boy. "Yes. Of course, but—" "Then, what are you growling about?" "Oh, nothing," answered Butler hopelessly. The Professor shook his head as if argument were a sheer waste of time. It was quite late when the last of the boys turned in that night, for there was much to discuss, much to wonder at in the strange actions of the mountaineer who had ordered them from the Ridge. During the talk Chunky went to sleep by the fire. He was awakened suddenly when Ned, who had gone to the spring for a cup of water, poured some of the almost ice-cold water into the fat boy's open shirt front at the neck. Chunky leaped up, uttering a howl, and bowling over the Professor who sat close beside him. For a few moments there was no end of excitement, which finally came to a finish when Stacy started off for his bunk in high dudgeon. Tad sat regarding the fat boy with twinkling eyes. Tad had something in mind. Mischief was brewing when that look appeared in his eyes. Soon after that he turned in, followed immediately by the other members of the party. As the hours drew on, the campfire died down to a glowing heap of embers and coals, now and then starting into a sputter and a crackle as some charred piece of wood blazed up and burned briskly for a minute or two. Inside a tent one boy lay with half closed eyes gazing thoughtfully at the fire. After a time he got up cautiously and peered out. Being satisfied that all were asleep, he stole into the adjoining tent with a rope in his hand. Soon afterwards he slipped out and entered another tent, after which he went back to his own tent. Once more the camp settled down to silence. The fire burned lower and lower until the camp was almost in darkness. Suddenly a figure all in white appeared at the entrance to the tent occupied by Stacy Brown. "'Ware the black cat!" it said in a deep sepulchral voice. "'Ware, 'ware the—" "Wha-wha-wha-wha-what!" gasped Stacy Brown, sitting up suddenly, gazing wide-eyed at the apparition at the tent entrance. "'Ware the black cat!" Just then there was a flash and a report. A gun was fired. It seemed as if the flash and the report had come right out of the top of the head of the ghostly figure. With a wild yell of terror Stacy Brown leaped from his bunk. Almost as soon as he rose, his feet were jerked violently from under him and he flattened out on the ground. "I'm shot, I'm shot!" he yelled, starting from the door. At about the same instant Chops, who had sprung up at the first yell of alarm, also measured his length on the ground. His feet had gone out from under him much after the same manner as had Chunky's. Chops also plunged for the door, howling with terror. Then a strange thing occurred. Both the tent occupied by Stacy Brown and that used by the guide began performing strange antics. All at once both tents collapsed. Walter Perkins was under one of them. Walter's howls were now added to the general din. Chunky had managed to stagger outside. So had Chops; but the tents, now down, kept bobbing as if imbued with life. "Ghost! Ghost!" yelled Chunky. "Yi-i-i-i—yah!" screamed the frightened guide. Chops's yell was cut short by another fall. At the same instant Stacy Brown again went down. By this time the Professor had charged upon the scene. So had Ned Rector. Walter Perkins and Tad Butler were crawling out from under their collapsed tent, Walter frightened, Tad laughing. Professor Zepplin, grasping his revolver, was glaring about for something at which to shoot. He saw only Stacy Brown and the guide performing strange antics. The Professor threw some dry wood on the coals, then roared out a demand to know what had happened. "I'm shot again! I'm shot," bellowed the fat boy, making a spring for the Professor's protection. Stacy fell short by several feet, landing flat on his face on the ground. Billy Veal, who had started to run in an opposite direction, went down also. The camp was now in a great uproar. Everybody was shouting and gesticulating. The Professor excitedly stirred the fire, then danced from one side of the camp to the other. Stacy and Chops stumbled about, falling on their faces almost as fast as they could get up. The Professor in his excitement backed over the rope that Tad had strung about the camp earlier in the evening. He landed in a thorn bush, which, in view of the fact that he was clad only in his pajamas, did considerable execution to the Professor's skin. Nothing like this had ever occurred to interrupt a night's rest for the Pony Rider Boys. "Stop it!" roared the Professor, when, after extricating himself from the thorn bush, he succeeded in grasping Chunky by one shoulder. Stacy was jerked from the grasp of the amazed Professor as if he were at one end of a huge rubber band that had sprung back. How the fat boy did yell! Almost at the beginning of the trouble a figure had darted from the camp and plunged over the guard rope. Then, hastily scrambling to its feet, darted away into the shadows. The fire had now blazed up so that the camp showed plainly. Chunky and the guide kept falling. The way their feet went out from under them caused the others to roar with laughter though they did not understand the cause at all. Suddenly, Ned Rector let out a yell. "Look! Oh, look!" he howled. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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