ashamed because he had refused to search for her lost ball near the haunted bridge.
Nancy sent a long ball flying down the fairway, and was glad it did not enter the woods. As she walked along with her caddy, she told him she had investigated the ravine.
“Your bridge has no ghost, Chris.”
“But I’ve seen the—the thing moving about,” the boy said defensively.
“What you saw through the trees was a white scarecrow.”
“A scarecrow?” He laughed. “Well, that’s a good joke on me and the other guys. We were sure it was a ghost because we could hear the thing screaming. How do you explain that?”
“I can’t yet, Chris,” said Nancy, “But I’m sure that the screams are not supernatural.”
The boy looked doubtful. “I’m sorry I wouldn’t look for your lost ball the other day,” he apologized. “If I were sure you’re right about the ghost I’d search for it later.”
Nancy smiled in amusement because she saw that Chris was torn by conflicting emotions. He wanted to find the golf ball, but he could not rid himself of the fear he felt about looking for it.
Nancy said, “I’d especially like to recover that ball because it was autographed by Jimmy Harlow.”
“Wow, no wonder you want to get it back,” Chris murmured enviously. “I’ll look for it.”
“Have you always lived near Deer Mountain Hotel?” Nancy asked him as they were walking together toward the last hole.
“Sure.” Chris grinned. “All my life.”
“Then you must know nearly everyone for miles around. Tell me, did you ever hear of a house near the hotel that burned recently?”
The caddy looked slightly puzzled a moment, then he smiled.
“Oh, you must mean the Judson mansion. It stood over there.”
With a sweep of his arm, Chris pointed back toward the woods. He said, “It was kind of close to the bridge—on the other side of the ravine. It burned more than two years ago in the middle of the night. No one knew how the fire started.”
“You say a family named Judson lived in the house?”
“Not a family. Only Miss Margaret Judson.”
“And is she an old lady?” Nancy inquired.
“Oh, no, she’d be about twenty-three or four now. Her parents died, and she was engaged to marry some guy—a professor at a college near here. But they never did get married. After the fire she ran away and no one heard much about her after that.”
“It was odd that she disappeared directly after the fire,” Nancy remarked.
“Yes, but the Judsons were strange. My mother could tell you a lot more about the family.”
Nancy was elated. This was the first tangible clue she had had to the identity of the young woman with whom she had talked at Hemlock Hall. Would Chris’s mother be able to tell her more regarding Margaret Judson—facts perhaps which would connect her with the brass chest discovered near her former home?
“Where do you and your mother live?” Nancy asked the caddy.
Chris gave his address and Nancy wrote it down. “I’ll go to see her,” she said.
CHAPTER VII
Ravine Riddle
NANCY played brilliantly on the eighteenth hole. Her hand had not pained her. Fortunately the bandage had not hampered the young golfer in driving the ball or using the putter to tap it into the cup.
Bess and George were waiting at the eighteenth green when Nancy and her opponent ended the round. They approached their friend the instant Amy Gray was out of hearing, and congratulated Nancy on winning the match.
“We knew you’d do it,” Bess declared proudly. “Tomorrow you’ll take the second round, and then you’ll be well on your way to the championship!”
“It won’t be easy,” Nancy replied. “The second match is always harder than the first, because you’re facing a better player.”
“How was your score?” George asked.
“Not very good. I came in with an eighty. I must get down into the low seventies or under to win.”
“You can do it, Nancy,” Bess said confidently. “How about
Eric J. Guignard (Editor)