CHAPTER VII MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
It was midnight when Mary Moore awoke with a start and sat up, staringabout her wild-eyed. "Where am I? Where am I?" her terrorized cry, lowthough it was, wakened Dora, who, sitting up, caught her friend in aclose embrace.
"Mary," she whispered reassuringly, "Mary, you're here with me. We're inbed in your very own room. Did you have a nightmare?"
In the dim starlight, Dora saw how pale and startled was the face of herfriend. Mary's big blue eyes looked about the room wildly as though sheexpected to see someone lurking in the dark corners.
"There's no one here," Dora assured her. "See, I'll prove it to you." Shereached for her flash which she had left on a small table near her head.The round disc of light danced from corner to corner of the dark room.The pale blue muslin curtains, waving in the breeze at open windows,_looked_ like ghosts, perhaps but Mary knew what they were. Still she wasnot satisfied.
"Dora," she whispered, clinging to her friend's arm, "are you sure thewindow at the top of the outside stairway is locked? Terribly sure?"
"Of course. I locked it the last thing, but I'll get up and see." Doraslipped out of bed and crossed the room. The long door-like window wassecurely fastened. The other two windows were open at the top only. Noone could possibly have entered that way.
"Try the hall door," Mary pleaded, "and would you mind, awfully, if Iasked you to look in the clothes closet?"
Dora had no sense of fear as she was convinced that Mary had beendreaming some wild thing, and she didn't much wonder, after the gruesomestory they had heard the night before.
"Now, are you satisfied?" Dora climbed back into bed and replaced theflash on the table.
"I suppose I am." Mary permitted herself to be covered again with thedowny blue quilt. "But it did seem so terribly real, and yet, now that Icome to think, it didn't have anything at all to do with this room. Wewere in some bleak place I had never seen before. It was the queerestdream, Dora. In the beginning you and I went out all alone for ahorseback ride. The road looked familiar enough. It was just like theroad from Gleeson down to the Douglas valley highway. We were canteringalong, oh, just as we have lots of times, when suddenly the scenechanged--you know the way it does in dreams--and we were in the wildestkind of a mountain country. It was terrifyingly lonely. We couldn't seeanything but bleak, grim mountain ranges rising about us for miles andmiles around. Some of them were so high the peaks were white with snow. Iremember one peak especially. It looked like a huge woman ghost with twosmaller peaks, like children ghosts, clinging to her hands.
"The sand was unearthly white and covered with human skeletons as thoughthere had been a battle once long ago. We rode around wildly trying tofind an opening so that we could escape. Then a terribly uncanny thinghappened. One of those skeletons rose up right ahead of us and pointeddirectly toward that mountain with the three ghost-like snow-coveredpeaks. But our horses wouldn't go that way, they were terrorized whenthey saw that hollow-eyed skeleton, waving his bony arms in front ofthem. They reared--then whirled around and galloped so fast we were bothof us thrown off and _that's_ when I woke up."
"Gracious goodness," Dora exclaimed with a shudder. "That _was_ anightmare! For cricket's sakes, let's talk about something pleasant sothat when you go to sleep again, you won't have another such _awful_dream. Now, let me see, _what_ shall we talk about?"
"Do you know, Dora," Mary's voice was tense with emotion, "I keepwondering and wondering about that poor Little Bodil. If she were carriedoff by a robber, _what_ do you suppose he would do with her?"
"Well, it all depends on what kind of a bandit he was," Dora saidmatter-of-factly. "If he were a good robber like Robin Hood, he wouldhave sent her away to a boarding-school somewhere to be educated, sinceshe was only ten years old. Then he would have reformed, and when she wassixteen and very beautiful with her china-blue eyes and corn-silk-yellowhair, he would have married her."
"How I do hope something like that _did_ happen." Mary's voice soundedmore natural, the tenseness and terror were gone, so Dora kept on, "Ithink they probably bought a ranch in--er--some beautiful valley inMexico, or some remote place where Robin Hood wouldn't be known and livedhappily ever after."
"I wonder if they had any children." Mary spoke as though she reallybelieved that Dora was unraveling the mystery. "If they had a boy and agirl, suppose, they would be our age since poor Bodil would be aboutfifty years old now."
Dora laughed. "Well, we probably never will know what became of that poorlittle Danish girl so we might as well accept my theory as any other.Let's try to sleep now."
Mary was silent for several moments, and Dora was just deciding that herservices as a pacifier were over and that she might try to go to sleepherself, when Mary whispered, "Dodo, do _you_ believe that story aboutthe Evil Eye Turquoise?"
Dora sighed softly. Here was another subject with scary possibilities."Well, not exactly," she acknowledged. "I don't doubt but that thethieving tenderfoot _did_ fall over the cliff and _was_ paralyzed,because he hit his head against a rock or something, but I think it washis own fear of the Evil Eye Turquoise which made him fall and not anydemon power the eye really had."
"Of course, that _does_ seem sensible," Mary agreed. Again she was quietand this time Dora was really dozing when she heard in a shuddery voice,"Oh-oo, Dora, I do try awfully hard to keep from thinking of that poorSven Pedersen after he'd walled himself into his tomb and lay down todie. What if he lived a long time. I've read about people being buriedalive and--"
"Blue Moons, Mary! What awful things you do think about!" Dora was a bitprovoked. She was really sleepy, and thought she had earned a good restfor the remaining hours of the night. "Lots of animals creep away intofar corners of dark caves when they know they're going to die. That'sbetter than lying around helpless somewhere, and have wolves tearing youto pieces or vultures swirling around over you, dropping lower and lower,waiting for you to take your last breath. For my part, I think SvenPedersen did a very sensible thing. In that way he was sure of a decentburial. Now, Mary dear, much as I love you, if you so much as peep againtonight, I'm going to take my pillow and go into the spare front bedroomand leave you all to your lonely."
"Hark! What was that noise? Didn't it sound to you like rattling bones?"Again Mary clutched her friend's arm.
Dora gave up. "Sort of," she agreed. "The wind is rising again." Then shemade one more desperate effort to lead Mary's thoughts into pleasanterchannels. "Wouldn't it be great fun if Polly and Patsy could come Westwhile we're here?" she began. "I wonder how Jerry and Dick would likethem."
"How could anyone _help_ liking them? Our red-headed Pat is so pert andfunny, while roly-poly Poll is so altogether lovable." Mary was actuallysmiling as she thought of their far away pals. Then suddenly sheexclaimed, "Dora Bellman, that new friend of Pat's, Harry Hulbert, youknow; he really and truly is coming West soon, isn't he?"
"Why, yes!" Dora was recalling what Pat had written. "Oh, Mary," sheexclaimed with new interest, "when he is a scout, hunting for bandits andtrain robbers and--"
Mary sat up and seized her friend's arm. "I know what you're going tosay," she put in gleefully. "This Harry Hulbert _may_ be able to helpsolve the mystery of Bodil's disappearance. But that's too much to hope."
Dora laughingly agreed. "How wild one's imagination is in the middle ofthe night," she said.
"Middle of the night," Mary repeated as she looked out of the nearestwindow. "There's a dim light in the East and we haven't had half of oursleep out yet."
Long-suffering Dora thought, "That certainly isn't _my_ fault." Aloud shesaid, "Well, let's make up for lost time."
She nestled down and Mary cuddled close. Sleepily she had the last word."I hope Harry Hulbert will come, and--and--Pat--"
At seven o'clock Carmelita's deep, musical voice called, but there was noanswer. The two sound-asleep girls had not heard. At ten o'clock theywere awakened by a low whistling below their open win
dows.