“The cave, you said, was named for Captain Hager?”
“Yes, it bore his name ever since I can remember. Then Krumm bought all this property, including the private road and the cave. Right off, he changed the name to Calico Cave.”
“Well, he didn’t want the cave to have Captain Hager’s name, for one thing. There’s no love between them, you know. Then I guess he thought Hager’s Hole was too closely associated with talk of the White Witch and death.”
“One man lost his life in the cave. Another explorer--an amateur--broke his leg, and a searching party had to bring him out. Not so many months ago, a group of giddy girls went in without a guide. They lost their way, and wandered around for several hours before help got to them. The stories they told around didn’t help any. So Krumm changed the cave name.”
“I can see that the cavern is no drawing card,” Miss Ward remarked. “When first I saw the cave sign, I assumed that the place might be a tourist attraction.”
“It could be,” Bart said seriously. “That cave has everything! Fantastic formations beyond belief! An underground river, a waterfall, everything to attract visitors, if facilities could be provided. But Krumm has no imagination, and he’s too tight to spend a penny developing the cave. It’s a pity the property ever came into his possession.”
The Scouts had a dozen more questions at the tip of their tongues. Before they could ask any of them, a familiar automobile drove up, parking squarely in front of the Cloverleaf milk truck.
Mr. Krumm squeezed out from behind the wheel and walked directly over to the group. He gazed sharply at Bart, his attitude unfriendly.
“I thought I’d drop by to inquire how you’re getting along,” he said, ignoring the milkman and bowing to Miss Ward. “You have found the cottage quite comfortable, I trust?”
“It seems to be very well equipped,” the teacher conceded. “I can’t say we spent too comfortable a night, though. We were disturbed by strange sounds.”
“Strange sounds?” The real estate man registered surprise which was not in the least convincing.
“We heard music, and thumping noises,” Judy supplied. “It seems your cottage has a ghost.”
“No such thing!” Mr. Krumm indignantly denied. “That’s all bosh! You’ve been listening to stupid gossip.”