MISS Ward and the Scouts watched Mr. Krumm drive away with mingled feelings. Already they were wondering if they had made a mistake in renting the cottage.

“‘For better or for worse,’” Judy echoed the real estate man’s words. “‘Final deal.’ It all has an ominous sound.”

“Especially that remark about the locked door,” remarked Virginia. “But the rent seemed so attractive.”

“Anyway, it was the only place available,” Ardeth pointed out. “So why worry?”

Judy left the porch to inspect the foundation of the building. Stooping, she ran an exploratory hand across the crumbling mortar between the bricks.

“This cottage may be brand spanking new,” she remarked, “but the building foundation certainly isn’t! Not that it matters, if the place is comfortable.”

“I’d like to know what Mr. Krumm meant about keeping the cellar door locked,” Virginia said. “Let’s investigate.”

However, before the girls could reenter the cottage, a milk delivery truck rolled into the private drive. From the cab leaped a young driver with reddish hair and a carefree smile. A frisky black and white short-haired dog trotted at his heels as he came over to the porch with a wire rack filled with milk bottles.

“Good afternoon,” he said politely, doffing his white cap. “I see you are moving in. Will you be needing any milk or cream?”

“I’ll take a quart of milk,” Miss Ward decided, selecting a bottle from the rack.

“How about regular delivery?”

“We’ve rented the cottage for my aunt, who won’t be here for a day or two,” Judy explained. “If you’ll drop by later on, I’m certain she’ll sign up.”

“Cloverleaf supplies the best,” the young man said. “My name, by the way, is Bart Ranieau.”

“You must be of French descent,” Miss Ward remarked.

“My father came from France, but I inherited my red hair and my temper from my mother. I’m a mixture—like Pete here.”

The cheerful milkman indicated the little dog that was sniffing at Judy’s heels.

“He’s real cute,” she declared, patting him. “You call him Pete?”

“He’s mine only by adoption,” Bart replied. “He kept following my truck, so finally I let him ride. Now he sticks like a burr. Never could find his owner.” Picking up the rack of bottles which he had set down on the porch, the young milkman turned to leave. Directing his remark at Judy, he said in an offhand way: “Your aunt is the hardy type, I hope. Not the kind that worries about strange noises?”

“We-ll,” Judy replied, startled by the odd question. “Aunt Mattie is inclined to be nervous. Is there any reason why she should worry about this place?”

“Oh, the cottage is okay so far as I know,” Bart answered evasively. “I’d be the last person to run it down, particularly when Old Krumm is so desperate for a renter.”

“Desperate? Oh, dear, we thought it was just the opposite!”

“That you were getting a bargain?”

Judy nodded miserably. “Now it proves to be a lemon!”

“I didn’t say that!” the milkman corrected her. “And the cottage is a bargain for anyone hardy enough to stay here.”

“But what’s wrong with the place?” Judy demanded.

“Maybe your aunt won’t find anything out of the way,” Bart said, edging off with his rack of bottles. “I shouldn’t have said a word. Old Krumm would have a fit if he knew I’d so much as opened my kisser.”

“Those noises—” “Forget ’em. Forget I said a thing. You can take my word for it, there’s nothing really harmful or dangerous about Calico Cottage.”

The Scouts followed Bart and his dog down the walk, trying to learn more. But the young milkman obviously was in retreat. With a friendly wave of his hand, he sprang into the delivery wagon and with Pete at his side drove off.

“There is something wrong with this cottage!” Judy declared with firm conviction. “That young man spoke of strange noises.”

“Maybe they have a connection with that locked door Mr. Krumm mentioned,” Ardeth said. “Judy, I think you’ve rented a house with a mystery!”

“If that’s all that’s wrong with it, I’ll be pleasantly surprised!” Judy responded, her voice grim, “I wish I could get my money back.”

“No chance of that, I’m afraid,” commented Miss Ward. “Mr. Krumm warned us the deal was final. He may have taken advantage of us. That remains to be seen.”

“Let’s really inspect the cottage,” Virginia proposed. “Mr. Krumm purposely took us through at a whirlwind pace, so we wouldn’t notice too much.”

Dejectedly, the girls trooped into the cottage. The living room was pleasant enough with a rug on the floor, a slightly musty-smelling davenport, chairs, a good reading light and attractive red calico curtains at the windows.

Bedrooms also were well furnished and ample wardrobe space had been provided. Water ran rusty from the kitchen tap when Judy turned it on.

“Apparently, the cottage has been empty a long while,” she remarked. “I guess Mr. Krumm tagged me for an easy mark all right!”

“If you were taken in, so was I,” said Miss Ward. “All the same, I can’t for the life of me see very much wrong with this place.”

“Let’s inspect the kitchen,” Virginia urged. “Probably the drain won’t work.”

The sink proved to be an attractive new unit with shiny faucets and an unmarred enamel finish. Judy, testing the drain, found that it worked perfectly.

Ardeth had turned her attention to the big electric refrigerator. When she plugged in the cord, the machinery began to hum.

“Nothing out-of-order here,” she reported.

Miss Ward meanwhile, quietly had been checking the kitchen doors. One opened onto a back porch and another into a storage room. The third one, which apparently led down to the cellar, was locked.

She turned the knob and rattled it a couple of times.

“Any key?” Judy inquired.

“None in the door.”

“Why do you suppose it’s kept locked?” Ardeth speculated. “Is there any reason why we shouldn’t inspect the cellar? After all, it’s part of the cottage.” “In a way, it isn’t,” Judy remarked. “I’m certain from examining the foundation of this place, that the cottage was built on an old base.”

“I don’t see anything so mysterious about a locked cellar door,” Virginia asserted, losing interest. “Like enough, the basement is damp and musty. So Mr. Krumm advised keeping the door locked.”

“Why should he tell us to keep it locked, when we have no key with which to open it?” Ardeth demanded. She was struck by an intriguing thought. “Say, maybe that key is here somewhere!”

“I know I’m not going to waste time searching for it,” Judy declared. “I am a bit worried though, about that milkman’s reference to strange noises. I wish I could be sure the cottage is all right before Aunt Mattie moves in.”

“There is a way,” Miss Ward returned. “We could sleep here for a night. In fact, it would relieve the congestion at Pine Cone Camp. We might try it tomorrow night.”

“Why not?” cried Virginia enthusiastically. “It would be fun!”

“We could stock the cottage larder and have everything ready for your aunt when she comes, Judy,” added Ardeth with equal zest for the proposal. “How about it?”

“I’d like to stay,” declared Judy. “It will give us a chance to learn if anything is wrong with the cottage.”

The girls remained on the premises another half hour. By the time they were ready to return to Pine Cone Camp, their friends drove up in the station wagon.

“At least Mr. Krumm relayed our message,” Ardeth said, as she climbed into the car. “Maybe he isn’t such a bad egg after all.”

From Calico Cottage, the station wagon followed a smooth pavement which wound in easy curves up the mountain. At a lookout point, the driver halted briefly to permit the girls to obtain a view of the distant peaks and valleys. They went on again, but presently were stopped by a forest ranger, whose green car was parked at the roadside.

“What have we done now?” Beverly Chester muttered uneasily.

The ranger greeted the campers courteously, dropping a handful of literature into Miss Ward’s lap.

“Welcome to Old Baldy Mountain,” he said. “This entire area is a national forest preserve. You’re staying at Pine Cone Camp?”

“Yes, we arrived last night,” Miss Ward replied.

“Girl Scouts always are careful about starting fires,” the ranger continued. “I wish other visitors here were as cooperative. You’re familiar with the regulations. The most important one is never to start a fire except in the designated places. You’ll find them all marked on the forest map.”

“We’ll be careful,” Miss Ward promised.

“My name is Arthur Wentz,” the ranger ended his little talk. “If I can be of service at any time, let me know.”

Back at Pine Cone Camp a few minutes later, the girls found they had just enough time for a brisk swim in the lake before dinner.

Judy and Kathleen, who were good swimmers, were paired together. They tried their skill on the diving board, watched a group of other Scouts receiving instruction in Red Cross Life Saving, showered off and were ready for a hot meal when it was served promptly at 5:30 p.m.

Later, when all the girls had gathered for songs and a nature talk in the main lodge room, Miss Lubell mentioned a plan whereby all interested patrols would take part in a competitive first-aid expedition.

“It will work like this,” she related. “Arrangements have been made for a forest patrol plane to drop messages to the various Scout groups which will scatter over the mountainside. The notes will provide fictional location of a plane crash. The patrols are to proceed as quickly as possible to the site of the crash, administer first aid and summon help. There will be an award for the patrol which accomplishes its mission first and with the most skill.”

“If it’s all to be imaginary, how will we give first aid?” Betty Bashe asked in a puzzled tone.

“Everything will be worked out carefully,” Miss Lubell replied, with a smile. “Although the crash is to be imaginary, counselors will be at the secret site selected. Notes pinned on their clothing, will provide clues as to the type of injury supposedly suffered. For example, one counselor may have an imaginary broken arm. The unit reaching the scene first, will be expected to care for the injuries exactly as if they were real.”

“Say, that will give us first class experience,” Kathleen declared enthusiastically. “I hope Beaver Patrol wins!”

Next day in camp the girls were given opportunity to brush up on previous first aid training, and patrol leaders received maps of the mountain area in the vicinity of Pine Cone Camp.

Throughout the day, when not otherwise absorbed by camp activities, the girls of Beaver Patrol pored over the map, thoroughly familiarizing themselves with every road and trail.

After lunch a telegram came for Judy from her Aunt Mattie Meadows, announcing that she would arrive in two days at Milburn.

“That doesn’t give us too long to prepare the cottage and make certain that everything is satisfactory there,” Judy remarked, as she showed Miss Ward the message. “Will we be permitted to stay at the cottage tonight?”

“I’ve talked it over with Miss Lubell,” the Scout leader replied. “While she considers it irregular for any of the girls to remain away from the camp, she realizes that through no fault of hers or ours, one of the tents is badly overcrowded. So until that situation can be corrected, she is granting permission for three of the girls, and myself, to sleep at the cottage. We’ll prepare our own breakfasts there, and then return here for the day’s program.”

“We’re staying at Calico Cottage tonight then?”

“Yes, Kathleen, as patrol leader, will remain here with Beverly and Betty. Ardeth and Virginia will go with us to the cottage. The camp station wagon will take us to Milburn where we can buy necessary supplies. Then we’ll be deposited at Calico Cottage, and be picked up again tomorrow morning.”

The plan was acceptable to everyone, although Kathleen, Beverly and Betty secretly were a bit disappointed that they were not to be included in the party.

“Never mind!” Miss Ward assured them. “Perhaps tomorrow night, we can trade places.”

At four o’clock, the station wagon came to take Miss Ward, Judy, Ardeth and Virginia to the Village. Most of their luggage was left behind, but each girl had packed a few essentials which would be needed for the over-night stay.

At Milburn, the Scouts sought a grocery store, there to make careful purchase of a list of supplies they had worked out. As she paid for the groceries, Judy remarked that they were to be used at Calico Cottage.

“Calico Cottage?” repeated the woman who had waited upon her. “Don’t tell me you’re staying at that place!” “Yes, we are for a few days,” Judy admitted. “I rented the cottage for my aunt. Until she comes, a few of the Scouts plan to use some of the bed space.”

“You may like the cottage,” the woman replied. “No one could hire me to stay there though!”

“Why not?” Judy inquired, instantly alert. “What is wrong with the cottage?”

“That’s what folks around here would like to know,” the woman replied with an expressive shrug of her shoulders. “It’s close to Hager’s Hole for one thing.”

“Hager’s Hole?”

“Some call it Calico Cave.” The clerk rang up the sale and packed the groceries into sacks for convenient carrying. She did not seem inclined to carry on the conversation.

“Please tell us what you know about the cottage,” Judy requested earnestly.

“Really, I don’t know a thing. I shouldn’t have said a word. It’s just that it seems sort of queer about the tenants.”

“Did anything happen to them?”

“Oh, no,” the woman answered. “But the last couple stayed only two days. They moved out in the middle of the night. Since then Mr. Krumm hasn’t been able to find another renter.”