CAPTAIN Hager’s remarks about the cave had stirred the imagination of the Scouts, and even Miss Ward thought it would be interesting to explore the cavern for a short distance.

“Would it be safe, do you think?” she asked, as Captain Hager seemed to be giving Judy’s request sober consideration.

“It’s safe enough, Ma’am,” he assured her. “The only danger lies in going too far without a guide.”

“No rock falls?”

“Never heard of one in all the years I’ve lived hereabouts.”

“Then do take us, Captain Hager!” Judy urged again, prancing excitedly about the dock. “We haven’t much time, because the camp station wagon is to come for us at ten thirty. Please, could we start right now?”

“Dash it, I was calculatin’ on anchorin’ for a comfortable snooze,” the captain complained good-naturedly. “But if them’s my sailing orders, we’ll cast off for the cave!”

The old man told the Scouts and their leader to meet him at the entranceway of Hager’s Hole. He promised to join them there as soon as he had gone to his nearby river shack to leave his fishing equipment and pick up a few items he would want for the trip.

Taking leave of the old man, the girls swiftly climbed the slope to the cave. Captain Hager did not keep them waiting long.

Within fifteen minutes, they glimpsed his bent figure coming along the path. He had changed his shoes, put on a blue jacket, and carried a lantern.

Before leading the way into the cave, Captain Hager told the group something of its history. The cavern, he related, was known to have been in existence in early Indian days—the exact date of its origin never would be established.

“Now there are all types of caves,” he went on, warming to his subject. “Tunnel caves, river system caves, fissure caves—no two ever are the same, and that’s what makes ’em so interesting to explorers. This one starts with a sort of sinkhole entrance. It narrows down for a distance and then opens up into a chamber where you’ll see the White Witch. That’s as far as most folks ever go.”

“It won’t take us too long to see the formation?” Miss Ward asked, looking anxiously at her wrist watch. “We haven’t much time.”

“Ten minutes, ma’am, to walk to the chamber. The climb back will take longer. I’m not as spry as I was in the old days.”

“We can spare an hour,” Miss Ward decided. Captain Hager instructed the girls to follow him, single-file. Miss Ward brought up the rear of the procession to make certain that none of her charges wandered out of line.

Cautiously, and with awe, the Scouts moved into the entrance chamber of the cave. A considerable current of air moved in the cavern, nearly lifting Kathleen’s beret from her head.

The room in which the girls found themselves, though dark, was neither damp nor musty. By the light of Captain Hager’s lantern, they distinguished smoke-blackened limestone walls, and on the floor were the dead ashes of a small fire.

“Someone has been in here lately,” the guide remarked. “Not Bart, because he wouldn’t bother with a fire. He does most of his exploring in a bathing suit.”

“A bathing suit!” gasped Miss Ward, truly astonished. “I should think he’d freeze to death.”

“Not that lad,” chuckled the captain. He had rested his lantern for a moment on a rocky ledge. “The temperature of this cave is the same, summer or winter. Bart wears a bathing suit because he can crawl through narrow places better than if he had on bulky clothes. And when he gets wet, he says he stays warmer and dries out faster.”

“Dear me, there’s more to this exploration of caves than I realized,” commented Miss Ward. “We’ll not get wet, I trust?”

“No, Ma’am,” the captain promised. “There’s no water down to the level where we’re going. Keep your eyes out for bats though—not that the little creatures will harm you.”

“Bats!” Virginia squealed. “Horrors!”

“They won’t hurt you,” the captain repeated. “Not even if you touch ’em with your hand. Sometimes they’re packed in on the walls as tight as a swarm o’ bees. Then if they’re disturbed, the whole mass may take flight. Bats are strange creatures.”

“Ardeth should be assigned to capture one for the camp treasure chest!” Judy chuckled.

“We’ll go below, now,” the captain announced. “Follow me closely, and don’t do too much talkin’. Sound echoes in a cave and is magnified. Full steam ahead!”

Step by step, the Scouts descended the narrow passageway. The slope was an easy one, but it seemed endless. Unable to judge distance underground, the girls imagined they had gone a long ways when finally the captain brought up in a gallery approximately sixteen feet wide.

Walls of the room were covered with limestone ridges and there were a few interesting stalagmites and stalactites. Captain Hager struck one of the latter with his stout walking stick, and it gave forth a musical ring.

Waiting until the entire party had clustered about, he slowly moved his lantern so that it threw a circular, shadowy light on a dark portion of the gallery. The girls sucked in their breath, uttering exclamations of surprise and awe.

There before them, was the cave witch!

Tall and skinny, she appeared to lean on a long, white staff. The ice-like figure, the girls knew, had been formed by stalagmites and stalactites which over the years had grown together in weird formation.

For a long while they stood silent, held by the ghostly spell of the old witch. In the dead stillness, they could hear the rush of the mysterious hidden river far below them. A cold gust of air blew across the gallery, causing the Scouts to pull their jackets more closely about them.

“How real that old witch looks!” Judy whispered, finally breaking the silence. “No wonder folks make up tales about this cave.”

Keeping his voice low to prevent echo, Captain Hager explained that the dripstone formations were called stalactites when they hung from the limestone ceiling and stalagmites if they rose from the cave floor.

“Each icicle-like formation, if broken, shows growth rings not unlike those of a tree,” he related. Some, he told the Scouts, grew very rapidly, while others were years in the making.

“Usually each stalactite has a small hole in the center through which the water flows to drip off the end,” he went on. “When the drip-off strikes the floor, it sometimes builds up a stalagmite as you see them here. When the two unite, you may get any variety of weird shapes.”

“Oh, dear,” protested Kathleen, “you’re taking all the magic away from the White Witch, Captain Hager! I prefer to imagine that she is pure white stone.”

Virginia inquired if there were other interesting formations deeper down in the cave?

“Aye, in the gallery below, there’s one Bart calls the Grand Ballroom. Farther on, there’s a Frozen Waterfall, or flowstone, as it’s called. You can see needles and toadstools and totem poles.”

“Oh, Captain Hager, take us on!” pleaded Ardeth. “Only as far as the Ballroom. This cave is so fascinating.”

Before the captain could answer, Miss Ward interposed firmly: “No, girls. Perhaps some other day, if we have a guide, we can return.”

“The camp station wagon will be at Calico Cottage before we are, if we don’t hurry,” declared Kathleen. “This is such a wonderful grotto, I hate to leave, but we must.”

Regretfully, the others agreed that further exploration of the cave must be postponed. Leading the way with the lantern, Captain Hager began the steep climb. He moved slowly and in the narrow passageway, his heavy breathing was so loud that those behind him could hear it plainly.

“I’m not as spry as I was ten years ago,” the old man confessed when the party presently reached the cave exit. “Going down is easy enough, but when I throw ’er in reverse, my ticker starts to pound.”

“We shouldn’t have pressed you into taking us to see the old witch,” Judy apologized.

“I was glad to do it,” the captain insisted. “Anyway, I’m not ready yet to let old age get to the windward of me! No, sir!”

The Scouts thanked their guide for taking them on the expedition. Saying goodbye, they hastened along the rocky path to the private road, thence to Calico Cottage. To their relief, the camp station wagon had not yet arrived.

“What a wonderful morning!” Kathleen declared, sitting down on the porch steps to think over the exciting things she had seen inside the cave. “I wish all the girls at Pine Cone Camp could see the White Witch!”

“Perhaps it can be arranged,” Miss Ward remarked. “I’ll talk to Miss Lubell about it and see what she thinks. Caves certainly are educational.”

“Captain Hager knows a lot about them too,” contributed Judy. “He told us a great deal, but I have a hunch there’s more he left unsaid.”

“About the White Witch?” inquired Virginia.

“The White Witch and maybe some other things,” she hinted. “Both Captain Hager and Bart seem to dislike Mr. Krumm. If it weren’t for that personal feeling, I suspect they might tell us more about the ghost of Calico Cottage.”