He held a long stick in his hand and with it began to explore the row of stalagmites, striking them one by one, at first with a slow tempo and then faster and faster. The weird sounds echoed and reached through the galleries of the cavern.
“Pretty!” the old man prattled. “It’s the music o’ Heaven. There ain’t no music to equal it.”
Again the beachcomber struck the stalagmites, listening raptly while the sounds died slowly away.
“Come on, Penny,” Louise urged, tugging at her hand. “Let’s get out of here. That old goof has lost his buttons.”
Decidedly crestfallen, Penny permitted herself to be pulled along the passage and up the steps. As the girls groped their way to the cave’s mouth, they still could hear the weird echoing tones.
“That was a good joke on you!” Louise teased. “You thought you were going to find a hidden radio station!”
“Well, we did find a cave,” Penny said defensively.
“We didn’t exactly discover it,” Louise amended. “This must be Crystal Cave. Seemingly that old beachcomber regards it as his own personal property.”
“Mr. Emory certainly gave us a wrong steer. A mysterious character, my eye!”
“You’ll admit that the old fellow is interesting,” Louise laughed. “However, I doubt he’ll warrant much attention from the FBI.”