The Orchard Secret Part 9

she called. "This way! Over here, girls!" Her voice was joyous.

Arden and Terry ran toward Sim. But as Sim stooped to pick up another apple she saw something in a pile of leaves. It looked like--surely not the leg of blue overalls! A last lingering gleam of the setting sun, shining through a cleft in the hills, glinted upon that leg. Sim glided closer. Could it be----?

It was part of an overall suit, and there, thrust out of the lower end and twisted grotesquely to one side, was a foot!

"Oh-h-h-h-ee!" screamed Sim, dropping her apples. "Oh, girls, look here!

Quick! Hurry!"

She stood in a panic of terror, rooted as firmly to the spot, for the moment, as one of the black gnarled trees.

"What is it, Sim? What's the matter?" gasped Terry, the first to arrive.

"Look!" Sim pointed, breathless. She and the others, for Arden was now one of the trio beneath the tree, saw more than just the overall leg and the foot. They saw the huddled form of a man partly buried in the fallen leaves. And they could see--his face!

"Why, it's Tom--the porter!" cried Arden. Instantly she was down on her knees beside him. "His head is cut. We must get help. Sim! Terry! Come here to me!"

Arden was dependable in a real emergency. She attempted to lift the death-like head. Terry struggled to help her while Sim bravely tried to straighten out a crooked arm beneath the senseless form.

It was so terribly tragic. The girls saw where all that blood was coming from. Tom Scott's forehead was cut, and the wound appeared to be serious.

Realizing this, the three hesitated about what to do next.

"Oh!" gasped Terry. "Is he--dead?"

"No," Arden answered. "I can feel him breathing. But he's had a hard blow."

"What shall we do?" faltered Terry, becoming more and more alarmed.

"If we only had some water," murmured Sim, "we could----"

The sound of approaching footsteps caused the girls to glance up. A man was hastening toward them through the aisles of the black trees of the orchard.

"Oh, dear!" sighed Arden as she let the inert head fall back on the cushion of leaves.

"What is he saying?" asked Terry.

"Nothing yet," replied Arden, still watching closely the face of the unconscious man as well as she could in the fast gathering gloom.

"Who is coming?" asked Sim, for the approaching footsteps were pounding nearer.

No one answered.

Then they heard the voice of Tom Scott as he stirred on awakening from the stupor of unconsciousness.

"My head!" he murmured. "It--hurts. But it was so black and it came at me so quickly----"

The girls were so relieved to hear him speak that they all waited breathlessly. The running footsteps came nearer. It was a man. He fairly leaped through the dark tunnel of trees toward the group.

"Get away from here!" he snarled. "Get away--you girls! You're not supposed to come in this orchard. Get away! I'll take care of him!"

By his voice, for it was now too dark to distinguish his features, Arden and her chums knew him to be Anson Yaeger, the grim head farmer and gardener of Cedar Ridge. They had seen him from a distance that afternoon, had heard his snarling voice, and had been told who he was.

Now he was living up to his reputation in ordering them off.

Arden and the others moved away from the still rec.u.mbent form of Tom Scott. But more life was coming back to him now. He murmured again:

"But I didn't know. I couldn't see--except that it was something black--as black as the hedge--and it--got me!"

Then the voice of Anson Yaeger broke in:

"All right! All right! I'll look after you, Tom. You girls run away. It's all right, I tell you! Go away!"

His angry command seemed to shatter the calm darkness of the night.

CHAPTER VII Terror in the Dark

Scarcely realizing how they had changed their fright into action, Arden, Terry, and Sim found themselves running away as quickly as they could through the fast-gathering darkness enshrouding the mysterious orchard.

The cool wind whipped back their hair, and their feet stumbled on the uneven ground. Loose stones tripped them, and smashed apples made slippery spots that once caused Sim almost to fall. But she quickly recovered herself, ran on, and pa.s.sed her chums.

As the three neared the dormitory building, the grounds about it were deserted, as this was the before-supper lull.

"I hope no one saw that mad rush!" panted Arden.

"What are we going to do?" asked Terry as they slowed to a walk.

"Say nothing--for a while, at least," advised Arden.

"Right!" agreed Sim.

To this course of action, or, rather, lack of action, each agreed with unspoken loyalty. They must keep the secret of the orchard to themselves.

It was their secret. None of the other girls, for the time, must know anything about the mystery tangled in those gnarled trees and in the smoky ivy vines that hung from some branches like tangled snakes. Even the tall and almost impenetrable hedge that, in one corner, formed a terrifying tunnel before it opened into the wide aisles of trees took on a sinister shape and seemed to add to the mystery as the girls thought of it while standing in the gleam of lights from the dormitory building.

They were safe now. They need run no longer. They could stop and let their panting breaths ease. They must go inside. Oh, to be able to sit down and calmly consider what had happened.

But the five flights of stairs between them and their room! How could they be climbed? The same thought was in the minds of each one. To get safely inside their room and throw themselves down upon the beds until hearts beat a little less poundingly.

It was finally accomplished, somehow. Silently they reclined in their favorite relaxed positions. No sound, except a clock-like puffing, disturbed the stillness. The room was almost dark, only a little gleam filtering in from the hall through a transom. No one made a move to turn on a light. Just to rest, for the moment, was enough.

Gradually they grew calmer. Arden sat up.

"What an adventure!" she exclaimed. "But do you know what we did?"

"What?" murmured Terry.

"We left the precious apples."

"For all I care they can stay there!" Sim had lost all interest. "I'll never forget how that poor young fellow looked! I only wish that old man hadn't chased us away. Perhaps we could have found out what Tom meant by that black thing he talked about."