RUSHING out of the cafe, Judy scarcely knew which way to go. Across the street, lights were on at the corner drugstore, so she decided to seek a telephone there.

As she darted to the opposite curb, she spied one of the forest rangers, who only that moment had emerged from a barber shop.

Judy had seen the Forest Service man several times since her arrival at Pine Cone Camp and knew that his name was Lowell Diethelm.

Now, instantly recognizing his face and uniform, a wave of relief swept over her. He would know how to help her notify the State Highway Patrol quickly!

“Oh, ranger!” she called, for in the excitement of the moment, his name temporarily fled from her mind.

“Yes?” The ranger turned to regard Judy with intent curiosity.

“Can you help me make a report to the State Highway Department right away?”

“Why sure,” the ranger replied. “What’s wrong? An automobile accident?” Judy jerked her head to indicate the cafe across the street. “Two men are in there eating lunch,” she explained, trying to hold her voice steady. “I’m sure one of them is Joe Pompilli!”

“Not the hi-jacker?”

Judy’s head bobbed excitedly. “I know he’s the same one Kathleen and I helped the other day when a truck went off the road. I want to get word to the State Highway Department right away.”

“Take it easy,” the ranger advised as Judy turned as if to start off alone. “You’re mistaken, I think. Joe Pompilli wouldn’t dare to show himself openly here.”

“It does seem a reckless thing for him to do,” Judy conceded. “But I’m sure the man is the same one.”

“You must be wrong, but to prove it I’ll go over with you to the cafe,” Diethelm offered.

Crossing the street, Judy and the ranger peered in through the big plate glass window. The two truckers still were seated at the lunch counter.

“Which one do you say is Joe?” the ranger demanded.

“The one with the square jaw, seated next to the wall. I never saw the other man before.”

Diethelm began to chuckle in a hard sort of manner which grated unpleasantly on Judy’s ears.

“Why are you laughing?” she asked. “Isn’t that man Joe Pompilli?”

“Not on your life. Both those men are truckers for the Peoria Cartage Co., and they make this town every few days. It’s lucky you ran into me before you went blabbering your suspicions to the State Highway patrol. If you’d accused those two of being hi-jackers, they might not have liked it.”

“But I can’t understand it, unless I was misinformed by the state highwaymen,” Judy stammered, completely crushed by the mistake she had made. “That man certainly was hurt in an accident. He’s wearing a wrist bandage and there are cuts on his face! The other Scouts and myself gave him first aid treatment.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ranger Diethelm replied with a shrug. “The state patrolmen either made a mistake in identifying him, or gave you the wrong dope.”

“Shouldn’t I call Highway headquarters to make sure?”

“You’ll be making a silly mistake if you do,” warned the ranger. “A mistake that will make your Scout organization the laughing stock of the community. Take my word for it, those two men are Jim Brady and Donald Fine, two highly respected truckers. But go ahead if you want to make the call.”

Lowell Diethelm’s words, and particularly his air of amusement, robbed Judy of all desire to risk action which might hold up her organization to possible ridicule. She hesitated. The ranger mistook her silence for unwillingness to follow his suggestion.

“Instead of trying to track down criminals, you Scouts would do better to look after affairs around your own camp,” he said cuttingly.

“Why, what do you mean?” asked Judy, startled. She had detected a hostile note in the ranger’s voice.

“You girls should be more careful about starting camp fires.”

“We’re always careful,” Judy insisted indignantly.

“Didn’t you have a fire this afternoon at Fountain Falls?”

“Yes, but we were granted a permit. We took great care with our fire, dousing the coals with water and covering the dead ashes with dirt as an added precaution.”

“Well, not thirty minutes ago, our spotter at Tower 32 reported a small fire close to the Falls. Fortunately, it was put out before it spread.”

“It couldn’t have been our fire, and we shouldn’t be blamed for it,” Judy said, her eyes flashing.

“Some member of your party may have dropped a lighted match.”

“None of us had any. Only our leader carried matches.”

“Well, I don’t know how the fire started,” the ranger admitted. “Just be more careful, that’s all. Now about reporting this trucker you think is Joe Pompilli—” “I guess I must have made a mistake,” Judy mumbled. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

“No trouble at all,” Diethelm replied, as he smiled as if suddenly relieved. “We rangers always try to be of service. Watch those fires now!”

Tipping his broad-brimmed hat, he sauntered on down the darkening street.

With mingled feelings, Judy was watching the retreating figure. Humiliated that she had made a mistake in identifying Joe Pompilli, she nevertheless was annoyed at the ranger for trying to accuse the Scouts in connection with a newly discovered fire.

“I think he dragged that in just to bother me,” she thought resentfully. “But why should he take such an attitude?”

As Judy stood by the cafe window, wondering what to do, Kathleen signaled to her from the inside. Her friend’s meaning was not immediately clear. Then she comprehended that the two truckers were paying their bill, preparatory to leaving the cafe.

“I’ll have to let them go,” Judy decided. “Nothing else to do.”

A moment later the two truckers came outside. Judy did not try to stop them, but they passed almost in front of her.

The one she had taken to be Joe Pompilli gazed squarely at her. Involuntarily, he half stopped. Then, deliberately turning his gaze away, he went on.

“He recognized me!” Judy thought, her pulse pounding. “I know he was that same man Kathleen and I helped on the road. He was called Joe too!”

Ignoring the girl entirely, the two men went on. Judy saw them get into a truck which bore the Peoria Cartage Co., name on its side. A moment before they drove away, she jotted down the license number.

She had just finished scribbling the numbers on the back of an old envelope, when Kathleen joined her.

“What happened?” her friend demanded. “I thought you were going to have those men arrested. Couldn’t you reach the Highway Patrol station?”

“I didn’t try,” Judy confessed ruefully.

“You didn’t try? Why not?”

Judy recounted her conversation with the ranger.

“He talked me out of it,” she concluded. “I can’t help thinking I made a mistake too. I wish I’d ignored his advice. It’s too late now, of course.”

“I know that man was the same one we met,” Kathleen insisted.

“I’m sure of it too,” Judy nodded. “Ranger Diethelm insists he’s an ordinary trucker and his name is either Jim Brady or Donald Fine.”

“Well, that doesn’t fit in with what we learned,” Kathleen declared, shaking her head. “That man was called Joe by his friend.” “I know,” Judy agreed with a deep sigh. “I’m all mixed up. I guess the best thing to do is to forget those hi-jackers and let the state patrol handle the situation. I’ve made a mess of it!”

“No such thing,” Kathleen insisted loyally. “We may have made a mistake, but if so, it wasn’t our fault. We must have acted on mis-information.”

Judy grinned and squeezed her friend’s hand. “You’re a dear,” she said, “always bucking up my morale. Do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Then, let’s keep this little episode to ourselves. The other Scouts didn’t hear about it?”

“No, I didn’t say a word to anyone. I just kept out of view and watched those two men as you suggested.”

“Good!” Judy drew a relieved sigh. “If this gets out on me, my name will be mud! You know, I’m already being teased at Pine Cone Camp because of the Calico Cottage ghost!”

“We’re all taking a ribbing because of that boy with the flute,” Kathleen admitted. “Any theory as to what causes the strange sounds?”

“No, not yet,” Judy replied. “Everything was quiet the last night I spent at the cottage. I’m wondering though, how Aunt Mattie got along last evening?”

“Perhaps our driver will stop at the cottage for a few minutes, so we can check.” “I intend to ask him,” Judy returned. “It must be seven o’clock now.”

“It is,” Kathleen agreed, “and our driver is coming now!”

She had sighted the familiar camp station wagon rounding a corner. It waited for a traffic light and then came on, to park in front of the restaurant.

The driver had been instructed to make two trips, as not all of the girls could be seated in the vehicle. Accordingly, he designated those who should remain behind.

Judy, Kathleen and other members of the Beaver Patrol, managed to find a place for themselves in the first load.

On short time, the driver told Judy he could not possibly wait at Calico Cottage. However, he compromised by agreeing to let her and Kathleen off there, while he continued on to camp. Then on the second trip, he would pick them up.

“Fine and dandy!” Judy approved. “That will give us nearly an hour to talk to Aunt Mattie and make certain everything is all right.”

The station wagon climbed the darkening mountain road, presently halting near the cottage. As Kathleen and Judy alighted, they noticed that lights blazed everywhere inside the dwelling.

“Aunt Mattie is here all right!” Judy remarked, leading the way across the lawn. “I wonder why she has all the lights burning?”

“So early too,” Kathleen added. Even before the Scouts reached the front door, it was flung open by Miss Meadows, who had noted the arrival of the station wagon.

“Oh, I’m so glad you came!” the woman exclaimed.

Her face seemed drained of all color, and her eyes had a frightened look.

“Why, Aunt Mattie!” Judy exclaimed. “Is anything wrong?”

“This dreadful cottage!”

“You’ve been hearing music?” Judy surmised.

“Music?”

“What was it that upset you?” Judy asked, realizing she had made a poor guess. “Not another one of those mysterious telephone calls?”

“No! No!” Miss Meadows stepped back so that the girls might enter the cottage. “Just come in,” she invited. “Then you’ll hear for yourselves, and I won’t need to explain!”