CHAPTER XXIII

A GAME OF NICKY NIGHT

Buck nodded at once. “It was just beginning to dawn upon me,” he said. “Something about the horse was attracting my attention and for a while I wasn’t able to gather what it was. Now I see what it is. There goes our Black Rider!”

“Or else his horse. It looks remarkably like the horse on the rock. Well, if that is the ghost who chased the Hogs’ Hollow ghost away from our camp, what can be his game? Both of them must have distinct ideas, because I don’t think there can be any connection between Jerry Jackson and that man!”

“When you ask me questions, ask me something that I’ll have half a chance to answer!” grumbled Buck. “But look at that man go! He doesn’t look as though he is just going away for a short time. Looks as though there was a good reason for leaving, as though some one is hard on his trail.”

“He probably has his own ideas and we’ll never find out what the answer is,” said Ted. “But I’m pretty sure that the fooling around our camp is over with.”

“I agree with you there,” nodded Buck, as they started back toward the camp. “This man seems to be leaving us for good and I’m pretty sure that Jerry Jackson will be too scared to come around again. But I certainly would like to know what they were after.”

“So would I, and if we ever run across Jackson we’ll try and make him tell us. But as for the other one, he’s gone and we’ll never learn anything from him.”

When they arrived in the camp they were joyously received and their recital of events was eagerly listened to. At the statement that events of an unusual nature were over with there was a mingled feeling of relief and dissatisfaction.

“Hurrah, now we can enjoy ourselves and sleep in peace at night!” whooped Bob, tossing his hat high.

“Yes, but think of not knowing what those fellows were running around for!” growled Drummer. “That spoils everything.”

“Why?” demanded Bob. “Do we have to know why they were playing ghost?”

“Of course we should,” retorted Drummer. “When we get home we’ll want to tell people about it and there won’t be any fun in ending up by saying that we don’t know what it was all about. More than likely folks will think we dreamed it.”

“We all had the same dream, then,” returned Bob. “But it would be a lot more satisfactory to know the rest of it.”

“When we go for fresh supplies of food we’ll try and find out if anything is known of the whereabouts of Jerry Jackson,” promised Ted.

“If you don’t find anything out can we go scouting around the country and try to find him?” a boy asked, eagerly.

Ted smiled. “No, I guess we won’t go as far as that. If he ever comes near the camp again we will make every effort to capture him, but I think that if we go roaming around the mountains just with the purpose of finding him, we will only be wasting our time and perhaps stirring up trouble. From the looks of his hut over there in the hollow I’d say that he had decided to leave this part of the country for good.”

That night there was a fine bright campfire meeting and the time between supper and bed time was enjoyed without fear of unexpected happenings. They talked and sang and told ghost stories, none of which satisfied them as had the ending of the one which they had witnessed from the maple grove.

“No ghost story will ever mean anything to me again unless one ghost chases the other across the camp and pulls his nightie off!” laughed Buck.

At the recollection there was a hearty laugh and Ted saw that the unexpected ending of the series of mysterious events which had taken place around the camp had cheered and brightened them. He noted that there was a great deal of difference in the boys. At the start of their trip some of them had been frightened, uneasy, panicky, but now they had changed. All of them had broadened and looked brighter and manlier than when they had started out. Little Tom Clayton had developed into a sturdy, self-reliant boy and his too-doting mother was about to receive a surprise when her formerly pale, angelic-looking boy returned from the camp. Ted knew that Mr. Clayton would be more than pleased.

“It has certainly done them a world of good,” he thought, as they turned in that night. “The whole trip has been a success, and I hope the trustees of the club will be satisfied. Too bad we can’t make a full report on the meddling ghosts, but we’ll have to let that go, I suppose.”

On the following day he and Buck took a trip to the farmer’s house and there they related to the farmer and his wife the recent adventures which they had had. The good couple were astonished.

“I could have sworn it was Jerry Jackson, after I got thinkin’ it over,” declared Farmer Crane. “So he has cut loose and run away, eh? I guess you’ll see no more o’ him. But you can’t guess what he would be pesterin’ you for, eh?”

“No, we can’t see why he should try scaring us out,” Buck answered, as Ted shook his head. “Mr. Crane, I wish you could have seen him leg it for the other ghost, when the second party got after him!”

The farmer roared heartily. “After you fellers go, so you won’t be annoyed by curious folks, I’m goin’ to tell that one around,” he declared. “Too many people ’round here thinks this Black Riders’ camp is a haunted spot, but maybe after I tell ’em that one ghost up and run the other out of your camp and pulled his shirt off’n him, they’ll get a little sense into their heads. What you think about that, Ma?”

His wife shook her head. “Some of ’em you could tell anything to, and they’d still believe that the place was alive with spooks!” she said, wisely.

“If you ever hear anything from Jerry Jackson, let us know,” Ted requested, as they were leaving.

“I surer than the dickens will!” was the reply. “If he ever comes around here I’ll make him speak up.”

They left the farmer and returned to camp with a fresh supply of food, talking over camp plans for the balance of the summer. They had now but a week and a half until it would be time to return home.

“In all this excitement the time has slipped by like magic,” remarked Ted.

“Yes, Labor Day is almost here. Time hasn’t lingered any, I’ll say that. But now that things have settled down we ought to enjoy every minute of the remaining time. Not that I haven’t enjoyed it up to the present time, but we won’t have to go running over the mountains every once in awhile and sleeping out in the woods. Have you enjoyed the job of managing a big camp?”

“Of helping to manage it, you mean,” corrected Ted. “I know that you’ve stood back and allowed me to run most things, but don’t forget that you are a partner in this. Yes, I’ve enjoyed it and I’ve learned a lot from it.”

The rest of the week passed away without incident, the boys enjoying it keenly. Now that there was no eternal watch to be kept they felt a lifting of a weight and from that time on they were able to give their whole attention to their sports and instruction. The two leaders taught them many useful things about camp life, especially in the matter of conscientious neatness, and by this time every boy could swim more or less efficiently. At night the campfire talks were enjoyed and long, health-giving sleeps rounded off their activities.

More than once the boys spoke of their enjoyment of the mountain chase game, so much so that Ted spoke to Buck about it.

“What do you think of starting a game of Nicky Night after supper?”

“Fine! I haven’t played it in years! Let’s do it.”

Few of the boys had ever played Nicky Night, a game that was going out of date when Ted and Buck were smaller. To the eager listening group Ted explained it.

“Just as in the mountain chase, you go out in groups of two,” he told them. “Only, in this game there is no use of lanterns. In groups of twos we’ll follow you. Now, here is the idea: the fellows who go out first split up in twos and drift off up the mountains, and when they have found what they think is good ground for hiding, they start yelling as loud as possible, “Nicky Night!” “Nicky Night!” Those in the camp immediately set out after them and as the pursuing squad gets nearer the “Nicky Night” yellers sink their voices, disguise them in every way, and try to throw them off the track. The two who are after the “Nicky Nights” must touch them before they are prisoners, even if you have to climb a tree or hang over a cliff to do it! The Nicky Nights will stay out until the pursuers have to give up, and then they come in. If more Nicky Nights get in than are captured, they win the game. You can run away or climb trees or do anything you want to, but the skill in the game is to throw the others off of the track by the use of a disguised voice.”

The boys were keen to try the new game and the sides were made up as at the time of the mountain chase game. Now that Plum had left the camp there was one short, and to make things even one boy volunteered to remain in camp and take care of the fires. It had been agreed that Ted’s group would take to the mountains this time, and they soon left the camp in a group, to split up and spread out as they progressed.

Fifteen minutes after they had left the camp the first blood-stirring cry floated down from the mountains. “Nicky Night!” came in a disguised voice, and “Nicky Night!” was repeated by another voice at some distance from it.

Buck’s squad took the field at once, and he went off with Drummer in the direction of one of the voices. The other groups started off on the trails of other Nicky Nights. As Buck and Drummer progressed up the side of the mountains they heard the voice before them, high-pitched and weird.

“That sounds like Ted,” decided Buck, as they made their way forward. “We’ll run him down, in spite of his disguised voice. Good thing there is a generous slice of moon tonight, or we’d have a tough time finding our way.”

The Nicky Nights before them heard them coming and immediately began a retreat, for the voice was next heard further off. On both sides of them they could hear other cries of “Nicky Night” and a few seconds later a cry of triumph, “We’ve got you!” One set of Nickys had been captured. The pair before Buck and Drummer still retreated.

“They’ll probably take to a tree pretty soon and allow us to go under them,” said Buck. “That’s the thing we have to look out for. There, what did I tell you! That ‘Nicky Night’ came from the air!”

The last “Nicky Night” had indeed come from the air, a weak and treacherous cry, and they pushed on until they came to an open space. Here they found the house which some of the boys had been in and where Ted had seen the man with the lantern roaming around.

“Hello, here is that old house with all the furnishings,” exclaimed Buck.

“Yes, and the Nicky Nights are hiding up there in the cupola on the porch roof!” cried Drummer excitedly. “I just saw something move up there. Come on and get them!”

“I don’t know how to get into that tower room from the house,” said Buck.

“We won’t get in through the house. Let’s climb the front porch,” replied Drummer.

“All right. But there must be a door from the main part of the house into that cupola, and they may escape.”

“Never mind, we’ll chase them through the house,” said the sturdy fat boy.

Buck stepped onto the low porch, quickly “shinned” his way up the supporting roof support, and reached the low front porch roof. Drummer followed him with remarkable agility and they swiftly crossed the roof and looked into the little octagon cupola.

The moonlight sent a half light into the place and for a single instant they thought that the place was empty. Then, as they became accustomed to the place, they saw a lone figure crouching along the wall, trying to conceal itself in the darker shadows of the little tower. The boys drew in sharp breaths and their skins prickled as the man rose from his place of concealment. He knew that he had been observed and his hand fumbled for the knob of the door which opened into the main house.

Buck had a flash of inspiration. He jumped over the low sill into the cupola.

“No you don’t, Jerry Jackson!” he cried.