The Mystery of Jockey Hollow Part 3

"Wait, Sim, wait!" Terry called. And when Sim did not return Terry added: "Arden, we'll have to go too! I don't like it, either." Then she turned traitor to the cause and ran after Sim.

There was nothing left, then, for Arden and d.i.c.k to do but follow. But Arden lingered a moment in the hall on her way out and listened.

The measured sound above was slowly coming closer. Heavy steps, as though the feet making the noise were encased in thick boots.

"Thud! Thud! Thud!"

Above the first landing all was in darkness, and even Arden, ghost-loving as she was, decided to wait no longer to find out what might be coming down the long stairs.

With a last fearful look she also fled, calling to d.i.c.k for protection and stumbling over a loose floor board in her haste.

CHAPTER III Arden Wonders

Communing with herself, Arden Blake, as she dashed out of the strange old mansion, was wondering just what it was all about and what, exactly, had happened.

d.i.c.k, anxious about the horses and doubtless believing there was no danger to Arden, who had been left to be the last out of the house, did not pause as she called to him.

"She'll be in the open in another second," reflected the young groom.

As she hastened out Arden had many conflicting thoughts.

"Another mystery," she told herself, half whispering. "Can there be ghosts? If ever there was a place made for them, Sycamore Hall is. But ghosts in the daytime! Perhaps those men did it to annoy us for coming around while they are working. But what object could they have in doing that? Oh, if it's another mystery, I hope it turns out as well as the one in the orchard did."

At last she was away from the strange big house, and she fairly jumped down the broad steps. With a sigh of relief she saw the girls and d.i.c.k.

Outside, the horses were straining at their bridles. With ears laid back and eyes frightened, every now and then one gave a nervous little tap on the hard ground with dainty fore feet.

Sim tried to mount Teddy una.s.sisted, but every time she put her foot in the stirrup the frisky animal wheeled about, leaving her hopping helplessly. At last d.i.c.k had to hold him while Sim climbed up. Then helping up Arden and Terry, d.i.c.k mounted his own horse with practised ease, and they turned away from the ghost house.

So nervous were the animals that the girls did little talking. They were occupied in keeping them under control. d.i.c.k cautioned them about letting the horses bolt. Headed to the stables as they were, once they got going it would be difficult to stop them, and a dash across the heavy traffic streets of Pentville would be dangerous.

Arden did manage, when her horse settled down a bit and danced along beside d.i.c.k's for a stretch, to ask him what had gotten into their usually well behaved mounts.

"They're frightened at something," he answered. "They were scared stiff when we came out."

"So were we all," Arden admitted. "Do you suppose the horses could feel our fright?"

"Some people claim that a horse feels his rider's every mood," d.i.c.k answered. "I really don't know. But I surely believe these horses sensed something, perhaps more than we did. But--" Then d.i.c.k's s.h.i.+ning black mare broke into a sudden trot, and he could not finish what he started to say.

But Arden was persistent. She urged her steed forward and was again riding beside the groom while Terry and Sim pranced on ahead.

"Do you believe in ghosts, d.i.c.k?"

He hesitated a moment and then slowly answered: "I believe that people often see just what they expect to see in haunted houses, so called, and hear just what they want to hear."

Arden was plainly disappointed at this matter-of-factness on d.i.c.k's part.

She had hoped for something more concrete than this. But remembering d.i.c.k's, or, rather, his grandmother's, connection with Sycamore Hall, she did not press her point.

"Let's catch up to the others," she proposed, and d.i.c.k a.s.senting, they were soon close behind Terry and Sim, who were still talking soothingly to their mounts to quiet the restless animals. After a ride of several miles through woodland they reached a straight open stretch of road and broke into a smart canter. The girls were a little breathless when they dismounted at the stables.

"Do you young ladies want to make another date for the end of the week?"

asked t.i.tus Ellery, owner of the riding academy, as he came forward on much-bowed legs. He was not an attractive man, but he knew horses. Rather stingy and grasping was his reputation. "How about it?" He was respectful enough but persistent.

Sim spoke up.

"Not just now. We'll phone." Telling d.i.c.k to "charge it," she and the girls walked toward the waiting roadster.

d.i.c.k opened the door.

"Don't let this adventure scare you," he said in a low voice. "It was probably nothing but those excited men imagining something." He seemed worried lest they cancel further riding engagements during the holidays, and d.i.c.k probably made a little commission.

"Don't worry," Terry answered. "We loved it! See you later; and thanks, d.i.c.k!"

They were off, Sim driving with a little less than her usual abandon.

Arden was the first to notice it.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Scared?"

"No, just thinking."

"It was queer," murmured Terry. "I was really frightened."

"The men were, anyhow," said Arden. "And when we heard those b.u.mping sounds coming out of an old uninhabited house--" She s.h.i.+vered a little.

"Probably falling plaster!" laughed Sim.

"I'm not so sure of that," said Arden.

"She's thinking of what happened in the orchard," remarked Terry.

"Well, something happened there all right," Arden responded.

"Let's forget it a while," proposed Sim, and she stepped on the gas in her usual manner.

Home again, they were greeted at the door by the smiling Moselle who answered their ring.

"You-all have a nice ride?" she asked cheerfully.

"Grand," answered Terry. "And we met up with some very fine ghosts, Moselle."

"_Ghosts?_" Moselle's eyes were wide.

"Over by Sycamore Hall," Terry continued.