William Arden - The Secret Of Phantom Lake

“Well.” Mr. Ortega rubbed at his jaw. “A special order would have meant something more than just loose stone from our quarry. A special size of stones, or shape, or maybe finish. Some work done on the stone after it was quarried, eh? Even polished. But this order wasn’t polished stone — too cheap. Did this Angus Gunn maybe build a sidewalk?”

“Sidewalk?” Pete gaped.

“They used stone for that in those days — big, flat stones.”

“Not that we know of,” Bob said.

“Well, then it could be any size of stone, big or small. For a house, a foundation, flagstones, a wall, anything.” Mr. Ortega shrugged. “Is the size and shape important, kids?”

“Yes, sir!” they cried together.

Mr. Ortega nodded. “Okay, there’s an order number on the sales slip. The stone would have come from our old quarry out in the hills. We don’t use it much now — only keep a caretaker there — and the specification sheet for that old order might still be lying around the quarry office.”

“Gosh,” Bob cried, “can we go there?”

“Sure,” Mr. Ortega said, and told them where the quarry was.

“Why, it’s only a couple of miles past Phantom Lake!” Bob exclaimed. “We’ll see if Jupe and Cluny are back before we go!”

But at that moment Jupe and Cluny were staring up at the moustached face of Stebbins. The wild-haired young man peered down through the hatch.

“We’re not talking to you!” Cluny declared stoutly, looking up. “We know who you are!”

Above, Stebbins’s face seemed alarmed. “What do you know?”

“We know you’re a thief that Professor Shay had to send to prison,” Jupiter said hotly, “and you’ve broken your parole to steal Angus Gunn’s treasure!”

“The police know it, too!” Cluny said.

Stebbins lifted his head and looked round the deck. Then he glared down at the boys again.

“So Professor Shay told you that, did he?” Stebbins said. “How come you kids are working with Shay?”

“He’s working with us,” Jupiter corrected him. “We found the second journal, the one you photographed!”

“You found?” Stebbins hesitated. “What did you learn in that store over there?”

“You think we’d tell you?” Cluny said.

“Why not ask your partner, Java Jim?” Jupiter countered

“Java Jim? What do you kids know about him?”

“We know you’re both after the treasure!” Cluny cried. “But you won’t steal it! We’ll beat you to —”

“Beat me to it?” Stebbins broke in. “Then you don’t know where it is yet, do you? Professor Shay doesn’t know? But you think that Java Jim does know?”

“Maybe Java Jim hasn’t told you all he knows,” Jupiter said, and smiled. “No honour among thieves, Stebbins!”

“Thieves?” Stebbins repeated. “If I told —” He stopped, shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t?”

The wild-haired young man stared down at them for another moment. Then his eyes flashed again.

“There’re four of you. Where are the other two?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Cluny taunted him.

Jupiter laughed. “We told you we’d beat you!”

“Beat me?” Stebbins said again, and suddenly he smiled. “So, they’re on the last step, right? The Ortega stone yard, that’s where they are! Thanks, kids.”

Jupiter groaned. He’d told Stebbins where Bob and Pete were! The young man smiled down, and then vanished. They heard him hurry across the deck above, jump down to the sand, and walk quickly away.

Alone, Jupiter and Cluny watched the tide rising in the hold. There was no way out. They began to yell.

It was late afternoon when Bob and Pete hiked up to Phantom Lake Lodge once more. Mrs. Gunn came out to greet them.

“No, Jupiter and Cluny aren’t back yet, boys,” she said.

They told her what they had learned at the Ortega yard.

“A ton of special stone?” Mrs. Gunn mused. “Heavens, what for, boys? The foundation of this house, perhaps?”

“No, ma’am. The house was already built,” Pete pointed out.

“Can you think of anything else here built of stone?” Bob asked.

Mrs. Gunn thought, and shook her head. “Not a thing, boys.”

“There has to be something!” Pete insisted. “Old Angus must —”

They heard a vehicle coming fast up the road from the highway. The truck? Then they saw it — Mrs. Gunn’s Ford. It sped down to the house and Rory jumped out. He carried the small generator he’d gone to have repaired.

“There’s nae a mon to do decent work these days,” the Scotsman grumbled. “Kept me waiting a’ afternoon for the repairs!”

“Rory,” Mrs. Gunn said, “do you remember anything built here out of stone? A whole ton of stone? Aside from the house and shed?”

“Stone?” Rory frowned. “A ton o’ it?”

Bob and Pete repeated what Mr. Ortega had told them.

“I dinna recall anything,” Rory said. “Ye say the quarry might tell ye more o’ the size ‘n shape o’ the stones?”

Bob nodded. “But it’s getting late. We’d never make it on our bikes before dark.”

“Then I’ll drive ye there,” Rory said. “I ha’ another trip I could make in that direction. I’ll drop ye on my way, and ye can ride yer bikes back.”

Bob put his bike in the boot of the Ford, and Pete squeezed his in along the back seat. They jumped in the front beside Rory and drove off.

There was still light when they reached the entrance to the old quarry. Rory dropped them and their bikes, and drove away.

The old quarry was a deep, vast pit at least two hundred yards across, with some water at the bottom. Stone jutted everywhere, glowing in the sunset. The whole mountainside had been gouged out in a series of encircling terraces, like steps. Far across, the quarry opened out away from the mountain and was only a few terraces deep. Here, near the bottom, a sturdy shack stood on a stone terrace that gave directly on to a low shoulder of the mountain. There was light in the shack, and a truck parked by it.

“The caretaker’s still here!” Pete said.

They scrambled down into the quarry and made their way along a terrace. They were less than halfway to the shack when the light went out. A man came out and got into the truck.

They shouted, “Hey!.. Mister!.. ”

The man was too far away, and the truck engine drowned their voices. They ran, but the truck drove off on a back road and was gone. When they reached the shack, it was dark and padlocked.

“Too late,” Pete moaned.

Bob studied the shack. Its four windows were shuttered and locked outside by heavy boards in slots.” Maybe we can get in and find the records ourselves. Mr. Ortega knows we’re here.”

Pete unbarred a shutter. “Bob! This window’s not locked!”

“We’re in luck,” Bob said. “Come on.”

They climbed inside. The shack was an office with old wooden files and furniture. Pete found a cabinet labelled “1870–1900”. He opened it, flipped through the files, and took out a folder marked “1872”. He carried it to a desk. Bob leaned over his shoulder.

Light footsteps sounded outside the shack.

“What’s that?” Bob whirled.

The open shutter banged closed. They heard the board slide in place to lock it. Footsteps hurried away.

They were prisoners!

The late sun slanted across the ragged opening in the hatch. Jupiter and Cluny had shouted themselves hoarse. Now they sat against the dank wall at the upper end of the barge and watched the tide rising steadily towards them.

“How long do you think we have, Jupiter?” Cluny said quietly.