CHAPTER 6 A Mysterious Sack

OF the group, Connie was the only one who remained entirely cool and collected.

“We can’t be lost,” she advised the others. “All we have to do is return the way we came.”

“But we’re off the regular trail,” Veve insisted, less frightened. “We must be a long distance from the spring.”

“Those horrid boys should be kept out of the park!” declared Sunny indignantly.

The other Brownies shared her belief that the trail signs deliberately had been changed by pranksters.

They were convinced too, that the mischief had been done by the same persons who had exchanged the tags on the trees.

“We’ve wasted a lot of time,” Connie said regretfully as the girls started to retrace their way. “I suppose the best thing now is to forget about that queer old lady, and return to the tree house.”

“Provided we can find it,” Eileen said, her confidence ebbing. “This path has twisted and turned so much I’m not at all sure of my directions.”

“I think I can lead the way back,” Connie declared.

However, with only false signs to guide her, the path proved most confusing.

Coming to a fork, Connie could not be certain which way to turn. Veve and Eileen were for going in one direction, while Sunny was equally sure that the other way was right.

“Let’s keep to the left,” Connie urged. “The sun will be to our backs then.”

Veve demanded to know what that might have to do with the matter.

“When we faced the roadway earlier, I noticed that the sun was shining that same way—on our backs,” Connie explained. “The highway runs one entire side of the park. So if we keep walking in the same direction, were almost certain to come out at the road.”

“But we don’t want to end up there,” protested Eileen.

“If we once reach the road, it will be easy to take bearings,” Connie pointed out.

“Connie’s right,” agreed Veve, siding with her. “We’re sure of striking the road, so let’s go that way.”

With the sun to their backs, the four girls trudged on. By this time they were on a well traveled trail again, but one entirely without markers.

“Maybe this isn’t taking us to the road after all,” Sunny presently remarked. “We’ve been walking a long while.”

“I see something ahead!” Connie encouraged her. “Yes, it’s the roadway!”

In a moment the girls emerged upon a narrow dirt road. Connie convinced the others that if they followed it for a short distance they would come to a familiar trail which would lead them back to the tree house.

“Which way do we go?” Sunny asked uncertainly.

“To the right, I think,” Connie said, after studying various landmarks. “If we are wrong we will circle the park and eventually come out near the gate house.”

“Miss Gordon will be worried to death if we don’t get back to the tree house soon,” Eileen declared anxiously. “Let’s hurry.”

The girls walked along the grass at the side of the road to avoid mud. By the nearly unbroken stretch of the thoroughfare, they knew that few vehicles had passed that way during the day. Automobiles usually followed the paved highway which wound through the heart of the woods.

Swinging around a curve, the girls were both startled and relieved to observe a horse and buggy tied up at the roadside.

“Why, that’s the same old-fashioned outfit we saw from the tree house!” exclaimed Veve. “I know where we are now!”

“So do I,” laughed Connie, greatly relieved. “We can’t be very far from the big oak tree and our sky house.”

The girls wondered what had become of the old lady with the sack. Evidently, she remained somewhere in the park area, for the horse and buggy had not been shifted from their original place.

“Maybe she took a wrong trail as we did,” Connie remarked. “It would be easy to do with so many markers mixed up.”

As the girls approached the old horse, Veve heard someone moving rapidly through the woods.

“Someone’s coming,” she murmured.

Even as she murmured the warning, the roadside bushes suddenly parted.

From one of the nearby trails, the queer old lady unexpectedly emerged.

At close range, she looked even stranger than from a distance. Hair streamed over her face and her hat was pushed far back from her forehead.

Slung over her shoulder was the sack which first had drawn the interest of the Brownie Scouts.

Oddly enough, the sack now appeared to be half filled. Also, the old lady carried the burden as if it were quite heavy.

The Brownies were too far away to see what she had obtained. They were very curious however.

“Now what do you suppose she’s carrying?” Veve speculated.

Although the little girl spoke in a quiet voice, the old lady heard the remark.

Glancing up in a startled manner, she seemed to hesitate and to act confused. To the Brownies it was evident that she did not want them to see what she was carrying.

They were certain of it when she moved swiftly to the buggy and shoved the sack out of view beneath the seat.

“She’s hiding something!” whispered Sunny.

The other Brownies thought so too.

“Let’s try to find out what it is,” urged Veve, keeping her voice low. “Maybe she’s stealing from the park!”

As the four girls approached, the old lady hastily climbed into the buggy. The Brownies moved a bit faster.

“Good afternoon!” Veve greeted her breathlessly as they hurried up.

The old lady gazed at the four girls and her thin lips cracked into the faintest suggestion of a smile. However, she merely inclined her head and did not speak.

She gathered up the reins, intending to start away.

“We’re lost,” said Connie to hold her attention. “That is—we were until a second ago.”

“Lost?” repeated the old lady.

“Can you tell us how to reach the big oak tree with the house built in it?” inquired Sunny politely.

“The park is filled with oak trees,” replied the old lady somewhat tartly. “As for a house being built in one—I never heard of such a thing. If you’re lost though, just keep walking and you will come to the gate house.”

“We saw you a few minutes ago from our tree house,” said Veve, hoping to continue the conversation. “You were carrying a sack.”

The remark seemed to be a poorly chosen one.

Apparently taking offense, the old lady gave Veve a sharp glance. Without a word she gathered up the reins and drove away.

“Well, how do you like that!” exclaimed Veve, very much displeased.

“She was annoyed because you spoke of the sack!” declared Connie. “What do you suppose she had in it?”

“Something she got here in the park,” declared Eileen. “We know she hid it under the buggy seat too, thinking we might see what she had.”

“She’s a rude old woman!” Veve said crossly. “I don’t like her one bit.”

“I thought she had a nice smile,” Connie replied, staring after the disappearing buggy. “We probably seemed prying to her because we asked questions.”

“Well, what did she have in that sack?” Veve persisted.

No one could hazard a guess.

“We’ll have to report to the other Brownie Scouts that we didn’t find out,” Eileen said in disappointment. “They’ll think were not much good.”

Rather let down by their experience, the four girls took careful bearings before starting toward the tree house.

To their relief the trail which they now followed was thoroughly familiar and the signs had not been disturbed.

Their way skirted a small pond fringed with cattails. Veve paused to pluck one and to toss a pebble at a bull frog who croaked from his perch on a lily pad.

“Don’t fall in, young lady,” said a gruff voice.

Veve whirled around and then laughed. Mr. Karwhite had come up without any of the Brownies hearing him.

“My, you walk on velvet feet!” exclaimed Connie.

“How are you getting along at the tree house?” the park superintendent inquired.

The girls told him that so far as they knew everything was fine at the little house. Then they went on to relate their unpleasant experience on the trail.

“Those pesky boys again!” exclaimed Mr. Karwhite angrily. “If ever I catch the rascals I’ll see that they are punished!”

The superintendent explained that the past two days he had kept an alert watch for the gang.

“I find mixed-up signs, broken shrubbery and other evidence they’ve been here,” he declared. “Somehow I can’t catch up with them. They slip into the park from somewhere along the road, instead of coming past the gate house.”

“We’ll help you keep watch,” Connie offered.

“Good! If you see them doing any mischief, let me know.”

“You have another park visitor who slips in from the roadway,” contributed Veve. “We don’t know her name, but she drives an old horse with a buggy.”

“Oh, that must be old Minnie Myles.”

“Who is she?” asked Connie.

“A widow who lives in a farmhouse about a half mile from here,” revealed the park superintendent. “She’s an odd one and no mistake! Lives by herself with her chickens and goat. She’s harmless though.”

As Mr. Karwhite talked, he had been glancing at the sky.

Following his gaze, the Brownies were astonished to notice that the sun no longer shone steadily. Very frequently it was hidden by dark clouds.

“It’s getting a bit chilly again,” observed Eileen, pulling her sweater tightly about her.

“That’s because the wind is shifting,” Mr. Karwhite informed her. “We’re in for another storm, I’m afraid.”

“Not soon?” asked Connie anxiously. She hoped the Brownie Scouts would not be caught by rain en route home.

“It’s coming up fast,” the park superintendent replied, studying the fast-moving clouds. “I doubt we’ll have much rain. But we’re likely to have wind.”

Mr. Karwhite gazed thoughtfully at the four girls, and then asked where the other members of the troop were.

“At the tree house,” Connie told him.

“Better hike back there right away and warn your leader a storm is coming up,” the man advised. “A tree house isn’t the best place to be in a high wind. You may all come to the gate house until it passes over.”

The girls thanked Mr. Karwhite for the invitation, and hastened away.

“My! It is getting dark here in the woods!” Eileen murmured uneasily as they scurried along.

On either side of the path, they could hear the trees and bushes gently stirring. Mr. Karwhite had been right! The wind rapidly was rising.

Presently the path opened up, permitting a view of the tree house. The girls could see Jane leaning out of the tiny window.

As she caught sight of the four on the trail, she waved and motioned for them to hurry.

Quite breathless, the girls reached the oak and climbed the stairway to their little house.

“You’ve been gone ages!” Jane accused them.

“We’ve been terribly worried,” added Rosemary, jumping up from the window seat. “What made it take so long?”

Veve started to tell about being lost on the trail, but Connie cut her short.

“There isn’t time for that now,” she said, recalling Mr. Karwhite’s urgent message. “We have to leave right away!”

“That’s right!” agreed Sunny. “A storm is coming up.”

Now Miss Gordon had noticed that the little house was swaying gently in the tree. She had observed too that the sky was darkening. However, she had not realized how fast the wind was rising.

At Sunny’s words, she went quickly out on the tiny balcony.

“A storm is blowing up,” she agreed. “We must leave at once. We’ll have to move fast if we reach the gate house before it breaks!”

Alarmed, the Brownies began to gather together their possessions.

Connie was packing the remains of lunch into her knapsack, when she felt the oak tree give a deep sigh.

Then the little house started to rock back and forth.

“Oh!” squealed Rosemary in terror.

“The wind is here!” declared Miss Gordon. “Oh, dear! Now what?”

Several large drops of rain had pinged on the roof of the house.

Before the girls could start down the stairway, the droplets came faster and faster.

“We’ll be soaked if we try to reach the gate house now!” squealed Rosemary.

Peering out of the tiny window, she saw only a world of crashing leaves and tree boughs.

So fast was the rain falling that the ground below was invisible.

“Oh, Miss Gordon, what will we do?” asked Eileen anxiously. She was very frightened.

The leader was worried, but tried not to show it.

“Now don’t be alarmed,” she comforted the Brownies. “This house is sturdily built and will withstand a strong wind.”

“Shall we make a dash for it?” asked Connie, shivering.

The air had turned so cold she dreaded the thought of having her clothing soaked.

“For the time being, we’ll stay right here,” Miss Gordon decided after a moment’s hesitation.

“What if the tree should be struck by lightning?” demanded Jane, who always speculated on the very worst possibilities.

“So far there is no lightning,” Miss Gordon replied calmly. “Unless the wind continues to rise, we’ll be as safe here as if we were dashing through the woods.”

“And a lot warmer,” declared Connie, settling down on the window seat. “I think it will be fun staying in a tree house during a storm!”

The other Brownies huddled together and kept their thoughts to themselves. Connie, they knew, was only putting up a brave front.

Already the tree house was rocking back and forth as if it were a boat on a choppy sea.

Below, the stairway appeared wet and slippery. If the Brownies finally decided to make a dash for the gate house, the footing at best would be very treacherous.

The girls were a trifle frightened. Conscious of every lurch of the old oak tree, they clung together and wished very hard that the storm quickly would pass.