CHAPTER XXVIII

MISSING

Clutching at the hearts of the girls there seemed to be an unseen spirit of fear in that deserted bungalow. They all felt it. Even Mrs. Brownley, who was not unduly given to indulging her nerves, seemed to feel the depression.

"Deserted!" murmured Sylvia. "Do you really think this bungalow is deserted?"

"What else can we think?" asked Rose. "There isn't a soul here."

"But they have been here, and within a few minutes," Hazel argued. Going into the kitchen, she put her hand on the outside of some of the dishes on the stove. "They are not cold yet," she said. "They must have gone out just before we came here."

"I hope that wasn't the reason," Alice said, grimly enough, but even she did not smile at her joke.

"They must be somewhere about," Sylvia went on. "They can't have heard us."

"We made noise enough," declared Alice.

"Let's go upstairs," proposed Hazel.

"In another person's bungalow!" exclaimed Rose.

"What of it?" came from Alice. "We've already taken a good many liberties, and a few more won't matter. They may all be upstairs and--well, something may have happened. They may be unable to answer us."

"Something happened!" gasped Rose. "Don't say that or----"

"No, don't make us any more nervous than we are," urged Sylvia.

"What I meant," Alice explained, "was that they may have gone upstairs, because of some alarm down here, and be afraid to come down. There may be only some ladies and children here with the servants, and they may be hiding up there."

"You're only making it worse," Sylvia cautioned her, with a glance at timid, shrinking Rose. "Let's go upstairs and see."

"Oh, but if there should be----" Rose began.

"Look here!" exclaimed Alice, vigorously, "all I meant was that perhaps one of the children had a fit--a nervous crying spell--it is rather lonesome up here, you see, and--well," she finished, "the family, or what is left of them, may be upstairs. Let's have a look."

"I think it is the only thing to do," said Mrs. Brownley. "We must satisfy ourselves that there is no one here. Then we shall know what next to do."

"I wonder what that will be," murmured Hazel.

The bungalow was well lighted with hanging and other kerosene lamps. Electricity had not penetrated that far, as yet. There were lights upstairs, for the glow of them could be seen.

"Come on--all together!" cried Sylvia, taking the lead. At least she was giving an example of boldness under trying circumstances. They all felt the pall of the mystery that seemed to have fallen over the bungalow.

"Is any one up there?" Sylvia demanded, pausing halfway up.

There was no answer.

"I say!" exclaimed Alice, who brought up the rear. "Some of us ought to stay down here, I think."

"Why?" asked Mrs. Brownley.

"Because, if the owners come in unexpectedly, while we are upstairs, and they hear us moving around, knowing they left no one in the place, they may take us for burglars and----"

"That's so," agreed Hazel. "I'll stay with you, Alice."

"No, it is better that we all go up!" Mrs. Brownley decided. "Come on, girls."

"I don't believe we'll find a soul up there," Sylvia said, under her breath. But she went on boldly, nevertheless.

The bungalow was a large one, artistically arranged, and the upper floor contained a number of rooms and baths. There was a small third story, where the servants' rooms were located. As the place was well lighted it did not take long to make a thorough search. The rooms showed that the members of the household had come down from their rooms after dressing for the dinner which was spread out in readiness for them in the dining-room below.

But of the occupants of the bungalow there was not a sign, save the mute ones of scattered garments and personal belongings.

"Where can they be?" wondered Alice.

"It is as though a plague had fallen upon this place, and they had all fled to escape," ventured Hazel.

"Oh, I wish you wouldn't say such things!" exclaimed Rose.

"Here's Roy's room!" suddenly cried Sylvia, pausing outside a certain bedroom.

"Is--is he in it?" gasped Rose, clinging to a faint hope.

"No," and the voice of Sylvia was sad. "His things are here--some of the--the brushes I gave him," she faltered, as she caught sight of her brother's toilet articles on his dresser.

"Isn't it puzzling?" Alice said.

"It's _terrifying_!" Hazel declared. "It's like something you've read of in a book."

Mrs. Brownley was going about systematically, looking in every room. It was the height of ill manners, she felt, to thus prowl about another person's house, but once she had started on that disagreeable quest she would do it thoroughly. She even penetrated to the servants' quarters, but there was no sign of them.

The whole bungalow showed every appearance of having been hastily deserted by the whole number of its occupants. With faltering steps the girls and their chaperon descended the stairs. Sylvia paused to turn down a lamp that was smoking.

"Well, there's only one thing to do," declared Hazel, and she seemed to have arrived at some desperate decision.

"What is it?" asked Rose.

"We must hurry down to the lake and call back that man with the motor boat. He must take us back to--to some place where there _is_ some one. Hurry! We must call to him before it is too late."

"It is too late now," said Alice. "He is far away by this time."

"I'm not going back!" declared Sylvia. "Roy is here--or he has been here within a few minutes, and I'm going to stay until I find him."

"Oh, but we can't stay here--with--with this mystery hanging over us!" gasped Hazel. "It's so weird and terrifying. I want that man back with his motor boat. At least _he_ is human. Come on, Alice, we'll call to him."

Before the others could stop them the two girls ran down the lamp-lighted path to the edge of the lake. It was not far, and fear and desperation because of the strangeness that seemed to hang over the deserted bungalow made them forget the fear they would ordinarily have had in plunging through the woods after nightfall.

"You can't make him hear!" Sylvia called after them.

But Hazel and Alice gave her no heed. They raised their shrill voices in a shout after Hank Wherry, who had turned about and departed in the _Balsam_.

It seemed a long time since this had occurred, but really it was only a few minutes, for the search of the bungalow, though it took a considerable period of time, as marked by nerves, was not very long in actual measurement.

"We _must_ make him hear!" said Hazel, desperately. "Call again, Alice."

They called and shouted. They flung the name of the man and his boat to the night winds, and mingled that with the appeal for "Help!"

But only echoes answered them.

"Oh, do stop it!" begged Rose, advancing a little way down the lamp-lit path. "Stop calling!"

"Let them go on," advised Mrs. Brownley. "It's better than having them crying hysterically, and if they don't make that Wherry person hear they may attract the attention of those who so strangely deserted the bungalow. Let them call."

And so Hazel and Alice called, and called again, awakening the echoes of the forest, sending their young voices out over the silent waters of Saranac.

Now and then an owl hooted, as if in derision, and then would come the weird and nerve-racking screech of some loon, to remind the girls of the other night they had spent alone in the open. But there was no human answer.

Disconsolately Alice and Hazel rejoined the others. To do them credit neither showed any signs of breaking into hysterical tears. They were Nowadays Girls in every sense of the word. They were too sensible and too healthful to give way easily to their feelings, though certainly this was a very trying time.

"Well, what are we to do?" asked Rose.

"Go back to the bungalow," decided Mrs. Brownley. "I, for one, am hungry--ravenous. This forest air gives one such an appetite."

"I'm simply starving," Alice confessed. "But what shall we eat? The remains of our lunch?"

"There is a very good meal in readiness up there," the guardian said, waving her hand toward the lit-up bungalow. "All it needs is re-heating."

"Oh, but would you take _that_?" gasped Hazel.

"Why not? We intend to call, and be the guests of Professor Russman, when we can find him. As Roy Pursell is--or was--a guest, surely he will receive Roy's sister and her friends. Simply because the Russman family is not here to welcome us need not stop us from eating. In fact, I think they will be glad, when they do return, to find that we have made ourselves at home," finished the chaperon.

"If they _do_ return," said Alice, and she could not keep from her voice a tone of gloom.

"Oh, of course they'll come back!" declared Sylvia. She spoke almost cheerfully. "I think Aunt Theodora is perfectly right. We'll go up there and eat our dinner. It will make us all feel better, and when it is finished, why, I'm sure the family will come back, and the mystery will be explained."

It did seem a bit odd to make thus free with another person's house and belongings, not to say food. But the girls cast aside their first scruples, and entered into the spirit of the affair.

They laid aside their hats and wraps, and the fire, which had not gone out, was coaxed into more brightness with some dry wood ready in the kitchen. Mrs. Brownley put on a kettle of water to make fresh tea, for that in the pot had stood too long. She also warmed some of the cooling food, for she had been an expert Southern cook in her day.

"Now draw your chairs up to the table, and we'll begin," was Sylvia's invitation when everything was in readiness. "We do not know to whom we are indebted for this, but we will show due appreciation when we meet the proper persons."

There was a moment of hesitation, and then they began. And there had been no exaggeration when appetites had been spoken of. Each one ate heartily, and gradually, in a measure at least, the feeling of gloom wore off.

But there was still a sense of oppression, though perhaps not so much that as a feeling that "something was going to happen."

"Well, we shan't starve, at any rate," Sylvia said, still keeping that cheerful note in her voice. "There is enough food here for some time to come."

She had been out in the kitchen, looking through the pantry.

"You--you don't mean to say we are going to stay here for another meal?" gasped Rose.

"Stay here! Why not?" asked Sylvia. "Where else can we stay? At least until the family, or some of them, return and tell us what has happened and where my brother is. We'll go to a hotel, of course, if there is one around here, but this place isn't as much settled as I supposed. Of course we'll stay here!"

"All night?" Hazel wanted to know.

"If we have to--yes. I'm going to have another cup of tea and some more of that delicious plum cake," Sylvia went on.

Her now calm spirits had an influence on all of them. They finished the meal, and even washed the dishes. The hour was growing late, and once more a little feeling of nervousness oppressed them.

It was when Alice went out on the porch to look down toward the lake, that she saw that which moved her to exclaim:

"Girls, here comes some one!"

"Where?" demanded Sylvia.

"See! That light!"

A gleam was observed bobbing about in the woods. It flickered here and there, now being obscured by some trees, and again shining clear.

"Who can it be?" murmured Rose.

"Hark!" Hazel cautioned them.

The murmur of voices came to them--women's voices mingling with those of men.

"Some one is coming at last!" exclaimed Sylvia, with a sigh of relief. She had kept up nearly as long as she could under the strain.

Along a woodland path came a party of men and women. Several lanterns could now be seen.

"It looks like a searching party," said Mrs. Brownley.

"I wonder if they have come to look for the lost family," Rose proposed.

Into the gleam of lamplight from the open doors of the bungalow came the men and women. A tall bearded man was in the lead, and at the sight of him Sylvia exclaimed:

"Professor Russman!"

"Ha! What is that? Who is there?" he asked, shading his eyes with his hand that he might the better see who spoke. "Who is it?" he asked, sharply.

"It is I--Sylvia Pursell. Oh, where is my brother Roy?" she asked, eagerly. "Is he here? Was he here? We came to find him but----"

"You--here?" the professor cried. "Roy's sister! This is a strange coincidence."

"Where is Roy?" his sister demanded.

"Now please don't get excited," begged Mr. Russman. Perhaps he had had enough of it that night. "It is unfortunate, but your brother is not here. He was with us, but now he is, I regret to say, missing!"

"Missing!" gasped Sylvia. "Has he--is he----"

She could not continue, but swayed unsteadily and put out her hands like one groping in the dark.