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THE PHANTOM TOWN MYSTERY
A whirl of gleaming sand and dust on a cross desert road in Arizona. The four galloping objects turned off the road, horses rearing, riders laughing; the two Eastern girls flushed, excited; the pale college student exultant; the cowboy guide enjoying their pleasure. A warm, sage-scented wind carried the cloud of dust away from them down into the valley.
"That was glorious sport, wasn't it, Mary?" Dora Bellman's olive-tinted face was glowing joyfully. "Wouldn't our equestrian teacher back in Sunnybank Seminary be properly proud of us?"
Lovely Mary Moore, delicately fashioned, fair as her friend was dark, nodded beamingly, too out of breath for the moment to speak.
Jerry Newcomb in his picturesque cowboy garb, blue handkerchief knotted about his neck, looked admiringly at the smaller girl.
"I reckon you two'll want to ride in the rodeo. I never saw Easterners get saddle-broke on cow ponies as quick as you have." Then his gray eyes smiled at the other boy, tall, thin, pale, who was wiping dust from his shell-rimmed glasses. "Dick Farley, I reckon you've ridden before."
Dick flashed a radiant smile which made his rather plain face momentarily good-looking. "Some," he said, "when I was a kid on Granddad's farm just out of Boston."
Jerry, a little ahead, was leading them slowly across soft shimmering sand toward a narrow entrance in cliff-like rocks.
The cowboy turned in his saddle and there was a tender light in his eyes as he looked at the younger girl. "I'm sure glad something fetched you back, Mary, though I'm mighty sorry it was your dad's illness that did it."
They had reached the narrow entrance in the wall of rocks. It was a mysterious looking spot; a giant gateway leading, the girls knew not where. On the gleaming sand near the entrance lay a half-buried skeleton. It looked as though it might have been that of a man rather than a beast. The girls exchanged startled glances, but, as Jerry was riding unconcernedly through the gateway, they silently followed.
"What a dramatic sort of place!" Dora exclaimed in an awed voice as she gazed about her.
They were on a floor of sand that was circled about by low mountains, grim, gray, uninviting. Here and there in crevices a twisted dwarf tree clung, its roots exposed. There was a death-like silence in the place. Even the soft rush of wind over the desert outside could not be heard.
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