The Mystery at Bob-White Cave

least, I hope he does.”
    The Bob-Whites drew their chairs close around Uncle Andrew.
    ‘It’s this way,” he said. “I’ve no objection at all to your exploring any of the caves around here, and there are many of them—all fascinating, I imagine.” Trixie drew a breath of relief and winked happily at Honey.
    “However—” Uncle Andrew paused and looked intently at Trixie—“I must make a definite rule that not one of you is to go into any cave at any time unless he’s with someone who knows all about this area’s caves.” Trixie’s face fell. “That takes away half the fun. A guide would just take us into sissy caves, like the one we were in today.”
    “It wasn’t so sissy,” her uncle reminded her.
    “Inside it was, Uncle Andrew. There wasn’t a sign of a crawlway or sinkhole or hidden stream or anything that even looked like a place where that editor said a ghost fish might be found. I want to go into some caves that haven’t been explored.”
    “I’ll not even object to that if you have a good guide with you. I think I know just the person, too—Slim Sanderson. He was born and raised around here, I believe. He helped Bill Hawkins build this lodge. He’s probably around eighteen—young enough to be as adventuresome as you’d like, Trixie, but he should know this whole country and know all the rules of safe cave exploring. As far as that goes, I have a book here somewhere that tells the rules set down by the National Speleological Society. It’s a small book with a red binding. See if you can find it over on the shelves, please, Trixie.”
    Trixie found the book and handed it to her uncle. “Listen, please,” he said. “These are the rules:
    “ ‘One: Never go into a cave alone. Go in threes. If one person is hurt, someone can then stay with that person while the other goes for help.
    “ ‘Two: Always leave word where you are going and when you expect to return. Leave a note outside the cave, telling the time you entered and when you plan to come out. Inside, leave a trail on the floor or on the cave wall, showing which way you have gone.
    “ ‘Three: Always carry three sources of light—a carbide lamp attached to your cap, a flashlight strapped to your belt, and matches and candle stubs wrapped in oilpaper.
    ‘Four: Never take chances. Extensive cave exploring should be done by experts, not amateurs.’ ”
    “It’s all sane advice,” Brian said. “Is there more?”
    “No. It goes on to warn spelunkers to be sure and get permission from the owner of the land before they explore a cave on the premises. No need to worry about that, though, because most of the land you expect to explore belongs to me. Oh, yes, there’s something about the kind of clothing to wear and the special gear you will need. I think you all have stout boots, blue jeans, and sweaters. You don’t have carbide lamps, though, so we’ll go to town tomorrow and buy them and see if we can find some helmets to protect your heads from rockfall. And you’ll need strong nylon ropes, too. I think the store in White Hole Springs will have the stuff. I’ll get word to Slim at the same time.”
    Oh, dear, that’ll waste a whole day!” Trixie said sadly. “Can’t we just hunt around here close to the lodge first?”
    “I’m sorry. No cave hunting anywhere without Slim, please. Especially after what happened today. Will that be all right with you?”
    “I guess so,” Trixie said reluctantly. Mart kicked her foot. “I mean... yes, of course, Uncle Andrew. But I just hope someone else doesn’t get in ahead of us and win the reward.”
     

A Trip into Town ● 4
     
    IT’S JUST LIKE the roller coaster in the amusement park at White Plains!” Trixie shouted as the Bob-Whites whooped and bounced while Shem and Japheth pulled them up the rocky incline. They were on their way to White Hole Springs to buy the equipment they would need to search for the ghost fish. Sometimes the road was little more than a path, and the wagon tilted precariously over limestone ledges that led to brush-covered hollows, how deep, no one knew.
    A summer haze filled the air. The warmth of the morning sun scarcely penetrated the trees and close underbrush. A screech owl’s mournful cry, loud and persistent, caught Trixie’s attention, and she stopped bouncing and playing to listen. “There’s the loudest stillness in these woods. No wonder you think there are ghosts around. It even smells like ghosts, Linnie.”
    “And