Chapter XXV: A Ghost on the Wire

“What do you think became of him?” Tom queried, rather anxiously I thought.

“I cudn’t imagine,” Peters replied, “unless he fell into one of them gully places. Anyway we hed ter be on the move ’n didn’t hev time ter look.”

“I don’t suppose you ever met the former owner of this camp, did you?” Brent asked Peters.

“Naw, I never seen nothin’ o’ the McClinticks’,” he replied, as though it was something he sincerely regretted. “I’ve always been sorry the old man had the Lodge locked up so tight too, fer I mighta been able ter do him a favor--I don’t know!” he sighed mournfully.

“Yes?” I queried, “Explain all that!”

“Aw, it mightn’t hev amounted ter anything,” he said. “But, yet it might. They wuz away frum here ’bout five months at thet time. That wuz after the son wuz killed.

“Now everybuddy in these parts knew thet the old man put the place up fer sale ’roun’ February. ’N everybuddy in New York must ’a’ known it too fer I heerd as how he had it advertised in all the big papers. So thet means all his best friends knew it anyways.

“Ter make a long story short,” he went on, relighting his pipe, “the fust night we wuz here and hed got rid o’ the lynx cub fer a spell, my buddy shakes me ’n wakes me up, ’n he sez, ‘Sh-shush, listen, c’n yer hear thet telephone ringin’ ’r are ye deaf?’

“I gits up ’n sure ’nuff, there wuz a telephone bell a-ringin’ like Squaw Harry and it’s in the Lodge. It rang fer nigh onto half an hour I guess. But we cudn’t git in ter do a thing about it.

“Ez I told yer afore, all Mr. McClintick’s friends knew he wuzn’t comin’ here no more. ’N I told my buddy thet it must ’a been the ghost of the dead son ’n nobody else! Sure as I live!” He said it with finality.

“And what makes you think it was a ghost?” I asked, a trifle impatient with the man’s stubborn superstition about small things.

“Wa’al, becuz after we left here ’n got ter Harkness we run inter Minnie Schultz ’n she told us a thing or two about it.”

“And pray, who is Miss Minnie Schultz?” Brent asked, with mock gravity. Peters seemed delighted to impart to us his knowledge of the lady.

“She worked fer the ’phone company--night operator, until they let her out fer listenin’ in. Nice girl Minnie is, but my goodness how she does love ter chat with a body.”

“I think I understand it now,” Brent said, straightening up in his chair. “She knew about the call to the Lodge that night and told you. Is that it?”

“Right you are, young man!” Peters said, admiringly. He seemed to puff his pipe extra hard over this morsel of gossip.

“Between us four gentleman,” the fellow continued, “’n I know it won’t go no further, Minnie told me as how she wuz the very operator thet handled the call. It wuz from Montreal Central Office ’n she sez thet she told them she wuz positive Mr. McClintick wudn’t be at the Lodge.

“She rung and rung ’n no answer came, o’ course, ’n she sez she told Montreal so. Then Montreal comes back at her ’n sez that their party wud like to speak ter Minnie herself.

“She sez she heard the man’s voice, very excited like, ’n thet he told her she must get McClintick at the Lodge and thet there must be someone there. When she sez there isn’t, he sez McClintick alwuz cum ter the Lodge fer thet night on account of it’s being his wife’s anniversary or something.

“’N Minnie, being the clever girl she is, smells a rat, ’n sez to the man, ‘I don’t know anything about it,’ ’n he screams back at her, ‘Well, I ought to know somethin’ about it, fer I’m his son!’

“Minnie sez, ‘Who?’ She’s frozen, she gits such a shock, but the feller rings right off and Montreal tells her she should excuse the call.”

“What does Miss Minnie think of it?” Tom asked, plainly excited.

“Minnie sez she doesn’t want ter think about it at all. She feels sorry fer the McClinticks’ troubles, but she sez it cost her her job. It wuz too good fer her to keep, you see, ’n within a week the story wuz all over and so she got the gate.”

“How did the folks around here take to the story?” Brent asked, evidently interested.

“Well, ter tell the truth, folks hereabouts don’t take much stock in Minnie and they laughed about it. Called it one of her yarns, but I don’t. No, siree! Didn’t we hear the ’phone ringin’ thet night ourselves? It was a ghost, sure as ye live!”

“Or a real live person,” I put in.

“It cudn’t o’ been a live person if he sez he wuz the son!” Peters exclaimed vociferously. “’N another thing, ain’t he dead and buried ’bout a mile ’n a half frum here. Thet proves it wuzn’t a live person.”

The man was so insistent that we had to agree with him out of sheer courtesy, but as for the ghost story, of course we wouldn’t give credence to it.

“But wait a minute, Peters,” said Brent, with an alertness that quite startled Tom and me. “How is it there’s no sign of any ’phone or wires around here now?” Peters grinned as though to say he would win anyhow.

“Oh, they said in Harkness, thet Mr. McClintick hedn’t paid his bill, so they took it out right after we wuz here. ’N shortly after thet, a terrible storm brought down the wires as neat as you ever see so the ’phone people never bothered puttin’ ’em up agin, thinkin’ the Lodge wudn’t be sold fer a spell.” He arose and knocked his pipe against the bricks over the fireplace. Then he leaned forward as if he was about to tell us a secret.

“Minnie told me confidentially thet McClintick owed the ’phone people one hundred dollars and thet the ’phone number at the Lodge here wuz number one hundred too! Now, thet’s what you gentlemen wud call a coincidence, eh?”