TITLE PAGE
By COTTER BASS
Author of:
KILLING FIELDS OF WORLD WAR I
INDIANA’S LOST & BURIED TREASURES
YOUR OWN HOME-BASED BUSINESS
FRAUD PROTECTION FOR SENIORS
ECHOES OF SLAVERY Vol. I
ECHOES OF SLAVERY Vol. II
ANTI-CRIME MEASURES
BEST GOLF TIP - EVER!
IDENTITY THEFT
FUDGE!
DISCLAIMER
The Barlow Boys Meet The ALLAGASH GHOST is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED
OR USED IN ANY MANNER WITHOUT THE PRIOR WRITTEN
PERMISSION OF THE COPYRIGHT OWNER.
To request permissions, contact the Author at cotterbass@fastmail.com
Copyright © 2021Cotter Bass
(for modifications to the original work as described below)
The Barlow Boys Meet The ALLAGASH GHOST is a derivative work. In the year 1924, L. P. Wyman’s THE GOLDEN BOYS AT THE HAUNTED CAMP was published by A. L. Burt Company and now resides in the public domain. ALLAGASH GHOST is loosely based on the L. P. Wyman book. However, the 1924 text has been completely rewritten, reformatted, and edited (grammar, punctuation, spelling, etc.). In the ALLAGASH GHOST all characters, locations, settings, place names, and events are new. Much of the original 1924 text has been deleted or rewritten to reflect fresh plot twists and new character objectives. In addition, ALLAGASH GHOST contains more than 30 new photographs and illustrations.
Interior photographs and illustrations courtesy of Pixabay, Wikimedia Commons, Wikipedia, PublicDomainPictures, and the Author.
Cover photo courtesy of Pixabay
CONTENTS
CONTENTS
Clicking on a Chapter Number below will quickly take you there . . . .
Chapter I. THE ASSIGNMENT
Chapter II. HOMEWARD BOUND
Chapter III. CHESUNCOOK
Chapter IV. SMOKE AND MIRRORS
Chapter V. CLUES
Chapter VI. THE HIDEOUT
Chapter VII. THE WARNING
Chapter VIII. BEN IS MISSING!
Chapter IX. THE BREAKOUT
Chapter X. DETECTIVES AND GHOST TRAPS
Chapter XI. FINDING JANET
Chapter XII. REINFORCEMENTS
Chapter XIII. FUNNY MONEY
Chapter XIV. MYSTERY SOLVED!
THE ASSIGNMENT
Chapter I.
THE ASSIGNMENT
Taking its name from the local geographical feature, Moose River Academy is in Somerset County, Maine, near the town of Jackman. Besides enjoying the reputation as a distinguished academic school for grades 7 through 12, Moose River Academy fields several interscholastic athletic teams including football, basketball, hockey, track and field, and wrestling.
The lights flicked off for a few seconds and then came back on, announcing that lights-out was due to occur throughout the dormitory rooms at Moose River Academy in thirty minutes. Shortly after the lights flickered, Bart and Ben Barlow heard a soft tap-tap-tap on their door.
“Come in,” Bart shouted.
The door opened a crack as the timid voice of an underclassman asked, “Are you in bed?”
“Not yet. We have ten o’clock lights-out tonight, you know.”
“Well, Bart Barlow is wanted on the telephone downstairs.”
“Thanks.”
A couple of minutes later, Bart was bouncing down the stairs, heading for the bank of four telephones lining the first-floor corridor wall.
Picking up the dangling receiver and then placing it to his ear, he heard, “Is that you, Bart?”
The boy at once recognized the response to his “Hello.”
“Sure is, Frank. How’s everything with you?”
“Everything’s okay here. Sorry to pull you out of your comfy bed so late.”
“If you’d sleep in it once, you’d find that it isn’t so comfy, as you put it, but I wasn’t in bed yet,” Bart said. “Lights-out isn’t until ten o’clock.”
“Bart, I called to tell you that a friend of mine, a man by the name of Cameron, is coming to see you and Ben tomorrow. He has a proposition for you. No, I’ll let him explain it himself, but I’m sure you’ll be interested. What time can you see him?”
“Any time between four and six in the afternoon.”
“Good! I’ll tell him that he should leave Portland not later than noon. That ought to get him up there about half-past four. How’s Ben?”
“Fine and dandy, as usual.”
“That’s good. I’ll try to come up there in a couple of days myself. But I’m swamped at work this week. Won’t keep you out of that comfy bed any longer. Remember me to Ben. Goodbye.”
“Who was it?” Ben asked as soon as Bart returned to their room.
“Frank. He said that a man named Cameron is coming here tomorrow afternoon to see us.”
“What does this man Cameron want?”
“Frank wouldn’t say.”
“Then I guess we must wait and see.”
“That’s right,” Bart said. “But you had better get a move on or you’ll have to undress in the dark. It’s five minutes to ten.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Ben grinned as he pulled off his shirt. But before he had time to crawl into bed, another light tap sounded on their door, followed by, “Lights out.”
“Told you you’d get caught in the dark,” Bart chuckled from between the sheets.
After lunch the following afternoon, the brothers returned to their room to study since they had no classes the rest of the day
“Around four o’clock we’ll go down by the gate and wait for him there,” Bart suggested.
The Barlow twins, Bartholomew Ulysses and Benjamin Fitzhugh, are sixteen-year-old juniors attending Moose River Academy.
Bart Barlow, standing six feet tall and weighing 133 pounds, has broad shoulders and a robust build with curly blond hair and green eyes. Besides playing linebacker for the Moose River Raptors varsity football team, he is a wrestler in the 132 weight class. Bart is an outstanding photographer and his photos often appear in the school newspaper, The Voice.
Ben Barlow, about five feet, ten inches tall and weighing 110 pounds, is slight of build with light brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. Ben is a long-distance runner for the track and field team, president of the debating team, and a member of the drama club. Besides being the junior-class president, Ben also writes for The Voice. Both Barlow boys are exceptional students, frequently attaining a GPA approaching 4.0 or better.
The boys did not have long to wait. They hardly reached the broad, arched gateway to the school grounds when they spotted a middle-aged man with a pleasant face walking toward them.
“Pardon me,” he said as he saw the boys, “but can you tell me where I can find the Barlow brothers?”
“You won’t have to look very far,” Bart smiled.
“Then you are Bart and Ben?”
“Yes, Sir, and you are Mr. Cameron.”
Walter Cameron, middle-aged, a trifle overweight, with a balding head and an engaging smile, replied, “The same,” the man said, holding out his hand, which Bart and Ben grasped in turn.
“We are very glad to meet a friend of Frank Travis,” Bart assured him.
“That’s as good a recommendation as one could wish,” Mr. Cameron smiled.
“Indeed it is. Frank is the best,” Ben declared.
“A very fine young man,” Cameron agreed. “But may we go someplace where we can chat? Perhaps Frank told you about the object of my visit.”
“No, Sir. He only said that you had a proposition you want to discuss,” Bart replied while leading the way toward the Administration Building. “We can use the reception room. There’s shouldn’t be anyone there this time of day,” he added.
“Now then,” Mr. Cameron began when they were seated in the cool reception room, “my proposition, as Frank called it, is this: late last fall I purchased a camp at Chesuncook Lake. I suppose you’ve been there?”
“Several times,” Ben replied.
“This camp is on the east side of the lake, about four miles northwest of Ripogenus Dam. The large main lodge contains the dining room, kitchen, storeroom, and office. There are ten log cabins of different sizes, each having a sitting room and from one to three bedrooms. Also, there are two small log buildings, one shed, and a small boathouse. I had been vacationing there for many years and, when the property came up for sale, I thought it represented an excellent opportunity, so I bought the place. I intended to run it as an investment,” Mr. Cameron explained and then continued, “The man from whom I bought the property did not manage it himself, so I thought I was fortunate to secure the services of the same caretaker who had operated the camp for the previous ten seasons. He is a Native American and goes by the name Jacques, a most capable man, and he knows his business. He opened the camp early in May since quite a few patrons like to come there for the early spring fishing. I leave everything to him. He knows much more about the place than I do. But a couple of weeks ago, I received a letter from him which was so startling that I left for the camp immediately. I found the place almost deserted, although Jacques assured me he had opened the camp this season with a larger number of guests than usual.”
“What was the matter?” Bart asked as Mr. Cameron paused.
“You’ll probably laugh at me when I tell you this, but the truth of the matter is that the guests were frightened away by a ghost.”
“A ghost!” Bart and Ben uttered the exclamation in unison.
“Yes, the camp is haunted by a ghost of some sort.”
“But . . . . .” Bart began when Mr. Cameron interrupted.
“No, I don’t believe in ghosts, but there’s something strange going on up there.”
“Such as what?” Ben asked.
“Well, it seems that this ghost is very accomplished. It does most of the tricks ghosts have a reputation for doing; groaning frightfully, pulling the bedclothes from a person in the middle of the night, banging doors, and the rest of the stunts. I spent more than a week trying to catch it or him, but I didn’t accomplish a single thing. Several new guests arrived while I was there, but the bravest stayed only two nights. I’m sure you understand that unless somebody puts an end to this ghost business, potential visitors will avoid our camp like the plague. And if I can’t keep guests, I doubt I could give the place away.”
“That’s too bad, Mr. Cameron. But I don’t see where we come in,” Ben said.
“You will in a minute. What I want is for you boys to go up there and solve the mystery.”
“But if you couldn’t . . . . .” Bart began, but Mr. Cameron interrupted again.
“Remember, I’ve talked with Frank Travis about you boys and he told me about some of your achievements. So it would seem that getting the best of a few ghosts ought to be a simple matter for you.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Bart shook his head. “Frank often exaggerates about some things, but of course we’ll be glad to do what we can to help you, right Ben?”
“What you said goes for me,” Ben grinned.
“Then that’s settled,” Mr. Cameron concluded while heaving an enormous sigh of relief. “Now I’ll tell you what I believe is the best strategy. You can go up there as boarders while paying the regular rates, which you’ll get back, of course. But you cannot let anybody know that you are working for me. As you probably know, you’ll find the fishing good, even in the summer, and I don’t think time will hang heavy on your hands. Now about terms: how does this sound? I’ll engage you for one month and pay you five hundred dollars, whether you are successful in eliminating the ghost or not. But if you are successful, I’ll give you a thousand.”
“That’s altogether too much,” Bart exclaimed while Ben nodded his head in agreement.
“Please let me be the judge of that,” Mr. Cameron smiled. “I am ashamed to say that I’m a wealthy man and the money doesn’t matter that much. Buying the place was nothing more than a whim, but I hate to fail at anything I undertake, so we’ll say no more about the money end of it.”
“If that’s the case, we’re more than satisfied and we’ll do our very best to earn that bonus,” Bart said.
“I’m sure of that, and I hope you boys will succeed.”
“But do you suspect anyone?” Bart asked.
“Not a one,” Mr. Cameron replied. “But someone is responsible for the ghost activity and I think I know the why, even if I don’t know the how or the who.”
“What is the why, then?”
“What would you consider the most likely reason? I want to see if your thoughts agree with mine.”
“Well, I would say that someone wants to get hold of the place cheap and he’s using the ghost strategy to achieve his goal,” Bart suggested.
“My thoughts exactly! I don’t think there can be much doubt about it since I have no enemies in that part of the country. And I’m not aware of anyone who might try to take advantage of the situation by frightening the clientele and then buying the camp for next to nothing if, or when, it comes up for sale.”
“How about the man who’s running it? Jacques, you said his name is,” Ben asked.
“Yes, Jacques Bolduc. I’ve considered him, of course, but I’m pretty sure he’s not the guilty party. In the first place, he’s run the camp for several years and has always been perfectly honest. Besides, the man from whom I bought the property vouched for Jacques’s integrity. And then, when I bought the camp, I offered to let Jacques have a half interest in it and pay for it out of the profits.”
“And he turned down an offer like that?” Bart asked.
“Yes. He thanked me but said he’d always worked for wages and would rather keep it that way. I thought it rather strange, but I’m certain that he has his reasons for wanting to keep things as they were.”
“That’s also true,” Bart allowed, “but it seems strange that he would turn down an exceptional offer like that.”
“And there’s no one else you suspect?” Ben asked.
“Not a soul. And I didn’t mean to suggest that I suspect Jacques. It was only a thought. Although I’ve been spending time in that part of the Northwoods for some years, I know few people in the camp area and nobody in the surrounding communities.”
“That’s not strange when you consider that it’s a pretty wild and unsettled country,” Bart suggested.
“How soon can you get up there?” Mr. Cameron asked.
“Let’s see,” Bart mused. “Today is Monday. Tomorrow is semester finals and commencement is the day after tomorrow, which will be Wednesday. We’ll start for home early Thursday morning. We’ll spend a few days with the folks, so it’ll be about the beginning of next week at the latest when we arrive at your camp.
“That’ll be all right. I don’t want to hurry you, although you can understand that the sooner you resolve, the better it will suit me.”
“Well, we’ll do our best, but I hope you haven’t got your expectations too high. We may not solve the ghost problem and we would hate to see you disappointed,” Bart smiled.
“If you don’t find the culprit, I’ll know it won’t be your fault,” Mr. Cameron assured them. “But I’m betting that you will solve this troublesome mystery. And now, I won’t keep you any longer. But I want you to know that my mind’s at ease now that you’ve agreed to take on this assignment.”
“One last thing, Mr. Cameron,” Ben said. “What do you call your new camp? That is if you have changed the name.”
“The camp’s former name was Camp Chesuncook,” Mr. Cameron said. “But when I bought the place, my wife and I changed the name to Camp Allagash, in honor of that wonderful river just north of our location. We canoed the Allagash several times over the years and we found it the most exhilarating experience ever! While I recognize that our camp is not actually on the Allagash River, the name seems appropriate. So, Camp Allagash it is!”
The boys accompanied Mr. Cameron as far as the gate and were walking back to the building when Ben asked, “What do you think of it?”
“That’s a hard question,” Bart replied. “We have little to go on so far. It may be a simple thing and then again it may not.”
“I’m rather inclined toward the last thing you said,” Ben remarked.
“Why?”
“How did Mr. Cameron strike you?” Ben asked instead of answering Bart’s question.
“Like a pretty sharp businessman.”
“Well, that’s the answer. He impressed me the same way. And I figure that if he couldn’t find out who’s playing the ghost game, it won’t be to be a mystery that’s easy to solve.”
“Your reasoning’s good all right, no doubt about that,” Bart assured him. “But we’ll have our work cut out for us. Tell me this, Brother: do you think it could be that fellow, Jacques?”
“I doubt it. What do you think?”
“Same as you.”
“Well, it won’t be the first time we’ve had a run-in with ghosts,” Ben laughed.
Bart and Ben are not strangers to mysteries! Together the brothers have solved a handful of whodunits and, while assisting their father, the eminent forensic psychologist Dr. Drake Barlow, the team has unraveled several enigmas.
“But not this kind of ghost,” Bart reminded him.
“I guess we’ll find that this ghost, or these ghosts, are not much different from any others,” Ben insisted.
“You’re probably right, but I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Bart said, laughing as they climbed the twelve steps at the front entrance.
After commencement day rehearsal concluded, Bart and Ben hurried to greet their friend, Frank Travis, whom they had spotted in the grandstands. The boys had not seen him for several weeks and he was sitting on one of their beds while they gathered some clothing and personal items to prepare for their upcoming trip.
Frank Travis, an old family friend from the Rockland area and a law clerk at his father’s firm in Bangor, had accompanied the Barlow brothers on many fishing trips and assisted the boys in solving a few mysteries. Now twenty-eight years old, he is a tall, handsome man with a thin mustache and curly dark hair. Frank is very athletic and enjoys a reputation of a world-class tennis player.
“What did you think of my friend, Cameron?” Frank asked after they shook hands all around.
“He impressed me as being a fine man,” Bart replied.
“Same here,” Ben added.
“I’m very glad to hear that.” Frank continued, “He’s a great friend, one of the best. And if you turn your heads to hide your blushes, I’ll tell you that he is very impressed with you guys.”
“I wish you were going up to the camp with us,” Bart said a little after they had discussed the matter of the ghost.
“So do I, but it’s impossible. We’re very busy at the office and Father is not at all well. I’m obliged to stick with it for a while. Besides, I have a tennis tournament scheduled for next week. But in a couple of weeks, I might be able to get away for a few days. I can smell the spruce and the pine right now, to say nothing about the fun of hunting down that ghost.”
“Mr. Cameron said he is a wealthy man. Is that right?” Bart asked.
“He’s worth several million. Why?”
“Well, he offered to pay us a thousand dollars if we are successful and five hundred if we’re not. That’s a pretty hefty sum of money to pay a couple of boys and . . . . .”
“Don’t worry about that,” Frank interrupted while smiling. “The money’s nothing to him, and you needn’t hesitate to take it. I expect he’d pay a million right this minute to have the mystery cleared up.”
“Then that’s okay. I only wanted to be sure about it,” Bart said.
“I suppose Sherlock has the matter all figured out,” Frank laughed, nodding toward Ben. “You notice he has said little. He’s a regular ‘still waters run deep’ sort of guy.”
“But when he talks, it usually makes sense,” Bart added with a proud glance toward his brother.
“That’s for darn sure,” Frank said, slapping Ben on the back with a resounding whack.
“My natural modesty, of course, prevents me from participating in the conversation,” Ben announced.
Frank insisted on taking the boys to dinner, and it was after eight o’clock when the brothers returned to their dormitory. They had decided to leave early the next morning, so they lost no time crawling into bed after setting the alarm for 4 a.m.
Dawn was breaking when the two boys sprang into the saddles of their motorcycles and, with a farewell wave of the hand toward their school, headed for home. They turned onto the highway and rode away through the morning mist.
HOMEWARD BOUND
Chapter II.
HOMEWARD BOUND
Late last fall, the Barlow brothers completed their basic driver education course and the hands-on rider education program, thus receiving their regular Maine driver’s license along with a motorcycle endorsement. Shortly thereafter, the boys purchased identical Yamaha XT660R bikes: the only difference between them is that Bart’s bike is blue while Ben’s is red.
“There should be little traffic this early in the morning, so we should make pretty good time,” Bart had said before they started.
After traveling south for more than an hour, the boys entered Bingham.
“Half an hour for breakfast,” Bart announced as he brought his front wheel to a stand in front of the restaurant.
“Sounds good,” Ben added as he joined his brother.
“And here’s hoping it’ll taste better than cafeteria food,” Bart laughed as he pushed open the restaurant door.
After finishing a hearty meal of hotcakes and bacon, the boys stopped at a service station to fill up with gasoline and then continued on their journey. For another hour they found the traffic light.
A short distance north of Skowhegan, Ben had a bad blowout on his front tire.
“I told you you’d better take care of that before we started,” Bart said as he rode back to where Ben was staring at his deflated tire.
“And you were right, as usual,” Ben laughed.
Using Bart’s bike, Ben went to town and purchased a new inner tube. It took the better part of an hour to install and inflate the new tube. It was almost seven o’clock before they could continue on their trip.
In another hour, the boys were on the north side of Augusta.
“We’re making pretty good time,” Bart observed while stopped at a traffic light.
“At this rate, we’ll be home in a couple of hours,” Ben added.
“That’s right, Ben, but remember that although it’s only about fifty miles from here to Owls Head, we won’t be able to make the same time that we have so far due to the twisty secondary roads between Augusta and Rockland. Besides,” Bart continued, “it’s lunchtime and I’m hungry.”
“Same here. Let’s stop at the hotel and have a bite to eat.”
Bart and Ben entered the restaurant and selected a table next to a front window so they could keep an eye on their bikes. Both boys ordered cheeseburgers and fries.
A few minutes after their food arrived, Bart kicked his brother under the table as Ben was conveying a juicy burger to his mouth.
“What’s the . . . . .” Ben began and then stopped, warned by the look on Bart’s face.
“Don’t turn around now, but in a minute look behind you at the man sitting close to the door,” Bart whispered.
Following Bart’s request, Ben dropped his napkin to the floor and while retrieving it, cast a hasty glance toward the door.
“Ever see him before?” Bart murmured as he straightened in his chair.
“It’s Mason.”
“Are you sure?”
“You bet. I saw him on a TV newscast late last year when he was arrested in Augusta for burglary. And I’m sure you remember when Mason stole money from Dick Weber, that senior at school.”
“He’s been watching us for several minutes.”
“Did you lock your ignition and remove the key?” Ben asked, referring to the lock option on the ignition switch which, when engaged, makes it almost impossible for anyone to start the bike’s motor.
“Sure.”
“Then I guess they’re safe. But what do you suppose he’s doing here?”
“Don’t know, but he’s going now.”
“Well, I hope we don’t see him again.”
The man called Mason is a known criminal, arrested many times for theft, burglary, and larceny. The authorities know him by his actual name, Albert K. Inman. His rap sheet states he is 42 years old, 5’-9” tall, weighs 182 pounds, and has black hair and hazel eyes. It lists his known addresses as Belfast, Maine, and Albany, New York, besides several others.
They continued eating their lunch for several minutes. And then, without uttering a word, Bart jumped up from his chair and rushed from the room. Too surprised to follow immediately, Ben reached the steps of the restaurant as Bart was hurrying back.
“He’s got it,” he gasped.
“You mean one of the bikes?”
“No, I mean the saddlebags that I was dumb enough to leave outside.”
“For crying out loud!” Ben’s said, his face a picture of despair.
“What a fool I was,” Bart groaned. “All the cash I had, my books, and my favorite sweater are gone.”
“What do you want to do?”
“What can we do? He’s got my saddlebags and who knows where he is now. We’ll report it to the police, but I doubt it will do much good.”
Too downhearted to finish their lunch, Ben paid their bill and a few minutes later the boys were providing the chief of police with a description of the man who they believed had taken Bart’s saddlebags.
“I know the man,” the chief assured them. “He escaped from prison early this year and we have found no trace of him. Are you sure it was Mason?”
“Absolutely,” Bart replied. “He’s changed some, but I saw his mug shot on TV last year and I’m sure I’m not mistaken,” Bart told the chief about the time Mason stole some money from a classmate at Moose River Academy. He tried to escape but was apprehended following a long car chase. Mason was convicted of burglary and sentenced to spend the next two years of his life in prison.
“We’ll do our best to catch this guy,” the chief promised. “Leave your address and if we get him, I’ll let you know.”
“It’s a pretty slim chance that they’ll catch him,” Bart told Ben as they left the police station.
“But I’m banking on that chance, so cheer up, old buddy. It’s never so bad but that it might be worse, you know,” Ben grinned as he hopped on his bike.
A couple of miles north of Thomaston, a small town about four miles west of Rockland, the boys were riding side by side when Bart spotted an automobile in the middle of the road some distance ahead.
“It looks like someone is having engine trouble,” Ben observed as he noticed a man leaning over the raised hood of his car.
The man did not appear to hear them and he did not look up or turn his head as they drove up behind him, coming to a full stop.
“Anything we can do to help?” Bart asked.
When the man gave a sudden start and then turned around, the boys found that they were looking at Mason.
“You?” the man growled, and then he tried to erase the look of surprise on his face. “Pardon me,” he said. “At first I thought you were someone I knew.”
“I guess you made no mistake about that,” Ben told him.
“Anyhow, we know who you are,” Bart added.
“You are mistaken, I’m telling you. But who do you think I am?”
“Your name was Mason the last time we saw you,” Ben replied.
“As I told you, you’re mistaken. My name is Adams and has always been Adams,” the man snapped.
“Well, no need to get mad about it,” Bart said easily as he moved around toward the rear of the car. “We all make mistakes, you know. And I suppose this man’s name was never Bub,” he insisted as he leaned over the side of the car and saw a small man crouching on the floor.
Ronald Garvy, alias ‘Bub’, is a small-time hood known to live and operate in the Augusta area. Garvy is 38 years old, stands 4’-10” tall, and weighs less than 85 pounds. His specialty is auto theft, and he is an accomplished pickpocket. Bub is well known to the officers and guards at Maine State Prison at Thomaston, where
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Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 06.03.2021
ISBN: 978-3-7487-7663-5
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