Nyoda lingered after the rest had gone to see that the fire in the tepee was properly extinguished. As she watched the glowing embers turn black one by one she became aware of a figure standing in the doorway. The moonlight fell directly on it and she could see that it was robed in flowing white, and instead of a face there was a hideous death’s head. Horribly startled at first she recovered her composure when she remembered that she was living in a household which were given to playing jokes on each other. Flinging up her hands in mock terror, she recited dramatically,
“Art thou some angel, some devil, or some ghost?” The figure in the doorway never moved. Nyoda picked up the thick stick with which she had stirred the fire and rushed upon the ghost as if she intended to beat it to a pulp. It flung out its arm, covered with the flowing drapery, and Nyoda dropped her weapon and staggered back against the side of the tepee, sneezing with terrible violence, her eyes smarting and watering horribly. When the force of the paroxysm had spent itself and she could open her eyes again the ghost had vanished. Blind and choking, she made her way back to the house, intent on finding out who the ghost was, who had thrown red pepper into her eyes. That it was none of the dwellers at Onoway House was clear. The girls were already partly undressed, Ophelia was in bed, and Tom was taking a foot-bath in the kitchen under the watchful supervision of his mother to see that he got himself clean. A chorus of indignation rose on every side at the outrage, when Nyoda had told her tale.
“Could it have been Calvin Smalley?” somebody asked. But this no one would believe. The boy was too gentle and manly, and too evidently delighted with his new neighbors to have done such a dastardly deed. Then who had dressed up as a ghost and thrown red pepper at Nyoda in the tepee?
CHAPTER V.—SAHWAH MAKES A DISCOVERY.
As there was no one of their acquaintance whom they could suspect of being the ghost, the trick was laid at the door of some unknown dweller along the road with a fondness for horseplay. The girls spent the morning working quietly in the garden, and in the afternoon they went to the city in Gladys’s automobile, all but Sahwah, who wanted to work on a waist she was making. Then, after the automobile was out of sight she discovered that she did not have the right kind of thread and could not work on it after all. With the prospect of a whole afternoon to herself, she decided to take a long walk. The Bartlett farm was not very large and she was soon at its boundary, and over on the Smalley property. In contrast to their little orchard and garden and meadow, the Smalley farm stretched out as far as she could see, with great corn and wheat fields, and acres of timber land. Somewhere on the place Calvin Smalley was working, and Sahwah made up her mind to find him and ask him over to Onoway House that night. But the extent of the Smalley farm was ninety-seven acres, and it was not so easy to find a person on it when one had no definite knowledge of that person’s whereabouts. Sahwah walked and walked and walked, up one field and down another, shading her eyes with her hand to catch sight of the figure she was looking for. But Calvin was somewhere near the center of the cornfield, stooping near the ground, and the high stalks waved over his head and concealed him completely. Sahwah passed by without discovering him and crossed an open field that was lying fallow. Beyond this was a strip of marsh land which was practically impassable. Under ordinary circumstances Sahwah would have turned back, but being badly in want of something better to do she tried to cross it. She had seen two boards lying in the field, and securing these she laid them down on the treacherous mud, and by standing on one and laying the other down in front of her and then advancing to that one she actually got across in safety.
On the other side of the bog she spied a little clump of trees and headed toward them, for the sun was very hot in the open and the thought of a rest in the shade was attractive. When she came nearer she saw that this little copse sheltered a cottage, old and weatherbeaten and evidently deserted. Weeds grew around it, higher than the steps and the floor of the porch, and the crumbling chimney, which ran up on the outside of the house, was covered with a thick growth of Japanese ivy. “It’s a regular House in the Woods,” said Sahwah to herself, “only there are no dwarfs. I wonder what it’s like inside,” she went on in her thoughts. “Maybe we could come here sometime and build a fire—there must be a fireplace somewhere because there’s a chimney—and have a Ceremonial Meeting or a picnic. How delightfully private it is!” The trees hid the house from view until one almost stumbled upon it, and then the marsh and the broad vacant field stretched between it and the farm, and behind it was the river, its banks hidden by a thick growth of willows and alders, so that the cottage was not visible to a person coming along the river in a boat. There was not a sound to be heard anywhere except the zig-a-zig of the grasshoppers in the field and the swish of the hidden water as it flowed over the stones. “A grand place to have a secret meeting of the Winnebagos,” said Sahwah to herself, “where we wouldn’t always be interrupted by Ophelia pounding on the door and wanting to come in. I wonder if it’s open?”
She stepped up on the porch and tried the door. It was locked. She peered into the window. The room she saw was absolutely empty. She could not see whether there was a fireplace or not. She was seized with a desire to enter that cottage. It was deserted and tumble down and fascinating. Whoever owned it—if anyone did, for she was not sure whether it stood on the Smalley property or not—had evidently abandoned it to the elements. There was no harm at all in trying to get in. She pushed on the window. It apparently was also locked. But she pushed again and this time she heard a crack. The rotten wood was splitting away from the rusty catch. She pushed again and the window slid up. She stepped over the sill into the room.
The window was so thick with dirt that the light seemed dim inside. At one end of the room there was an open fireplace, long unused, with the mortar falling out between the bricks. There was another door in the wall opposite the front door, so evidently there was another room beyond. This door was also locked, but the key was in the lock and it turned readily under her hand and the door swung open. Sahwah stood still in surprise. This room was as full of furniture as the other had been empty. Around all four walls stood cabinets and bookcases, and besides these there was a couch, a desk, a table and several chairs. The table was covered with screws, little wheels and the works of clocks, and before it sat an old man, busily working with them. He had on a long, shabby grey dressing-gown and a high silk hat on his head. He did not look up as she opened the door, but went right on working, apparently oblivious to her presence. She stared at him in amazement for a moment, and then, remembering her manners, realized that she had deliberately walked into a gentleman’s room without knocking.
“I beg your pardon,” she said, in embarrassment, “I didn’t know there was anyone here.”
The old man looked up and saw her standing in the doorway. “Come in, come in,” he said, affably, in a deep voice. Sahwah took a step into the room. The old man went back to his wheels and rods and took no more notice of her.