Byrd said:
“Jo was right. You three girls have brought us
luck. Bless you!”
George and Bess were shown to the room in
which they would sleep. Nancy was to share Jo-
anne’s bedroom.
“Oh, how sweet it smells in here,” Joanne com-
mented, as Nancy unpacked.
“That’s some of the Oriental perfume which
splashed on my clothes in the train,” said Nancy.
“It certainly is strong and lasting!”
When Nancy awoke the next morning, warm
sunlight was streaming through the windows. Jo-
anne had already gone downstairs. Nancy’s first
thought was to phone Police Chief McGinnis and
find out about the owner, or owners, of the cars
driven by the suspicious man. After dressing hur-
riedly she went to the first floor and placed the
call.
“Good morning. Nancy,” the officer said.
“Here’s the information you wanted. Both cars
were rented from drive-yourself agencies by a
man named Philip Smith, a native of Dallas,
Texas. They’ve been returned.”
Nancy thanked the chief and hung up. “That
clue wasn’t any help,” she thought. “None of
those suspicious men talked like a Texan. The
name Philip Smith was probably phony, and
made up on the spur of the moment. Also, a
forged driver’s license might have been used.”
Presently Bess and George came down and the
girls enjoyed a delicious breakfast of pancakes
and sausages. Afterward, Joanne took the girls on
a tour of the farm. She showed them the lovely
gardens, a large chicken house, and her pet goat,
Chester.
A turkey took a dislike to Bess and chased her
to the farmhouse porch, much to the amusement
of the onlookers I Joanne came to the rescue and
chased the turkey away.
“Our farm isn’t very well stocked,” she ad-
mitted as she led the way to the barn. “We keep
only one cow and one work horse. Poor old
Michael should be retired on a pension, but we
can’t afford to lose him yet!”
Joanne cheerfully hailed the hired man. Reu-
ben Ames was about forty years old, red-haired,
and rather quiet in manner. He acknowledged
each introduction with a mumbled “Pleased to
meet you, miss,” and extended a work-worn hand
for each girl to shake. Reuben shifted uncomfort-
ably and then returned to the barn.
“Reuben is as good as gold, even if he is bash-
ful,” Joanne told the girls. “I don’t know what
we’d do without him.”
“We’d better keep an eye on Bess,” George
teased. “She’ll be breaking another heart.”
Bess made a good-natured retort as the girls
started for the orchard. George demonstrated her
agility by climbing the nearest apple tree. Once
back at the farmhouse. Nancy asked curiously,
“Jo, please tell us more about the cave that you
spoke about yesterday. I’m bursting to know all
about it.”
“Well, the cave is on a piece of land along the
river which Gram rents out.”
“Oh, then I suppose it’ll be impossible for us
to visit the cavern,” Nancy commented.
“I don’t see why we can’t. It’s still our land.”
Joanne frowned. “A queer lot of people are rent-
ing it, though.”
“How do you mean?” Nancy questioned, re-
calling Joanne’s remark of the previous day.
“They’re some sort of sect-a nature cult, I
think, and part of a large organization. At least
that’s what it said in the letter Gram received
from their leader. Anyway, this group calls itself
the Black Snake Colony.”
“Pleasant name,” Bess observed cynically.
“I’m not sure what they do,” Joanne admitted.
“We’ve never even spoken to any members. I
suppose they believe in living an outdoor life.”
“You can live that way without joining a na-
ture cult,” George said dryly. “I suppose they
dance when the dew is on the grass and such non-
sense!”
“Believe it or not they do dance!” Joanne
laughed. “But only nights when the moon is out.
I’ve seen them from here in the moonlight. It’s
an eerie sight. They wear white robes and flit
around waving their arms. They even wear
masks!”
“Masks!” Nancy exclaimed. “Why?”
“I can’t imagine. It all sounds senseless. But
the rent money is helpful.”
“Do they live in this cavern?” George asked in
amazement.
“No, they live in shacks and tents near the