The Mystery at Bob-White Cave

said, and he and Brian put the man’s arms across their shoulders and half led, half carried him down to the boat.
    Bill Hawkins quickly checked the ropes trussing Slim, then joined the others. “I’ll go along, just in case,” he said. “That one’ll keep until I come back for him.”
    “What did that man mean about helping us?” Trixie asked Honey. “I don’t understand.”
    “I don’t know. Too many things are happening. I’m so bewildered I don’t know what to think.”
    “Me, too,” Trixie said. “It’s a real mystery.”
     
    It was a little harder to get the stranger up the winding path from the lake to the lodge.
    “That isn’t the path!” he kept protesting. “Now, if you’ll just let me find the way myself.... This is not the path!”
    Uncle Andrew, Bill Hawkins, and the boys persisted, however. They wanted Mrs. Moore to bandage the man’s head and give him a hot drink.
    “This path leads to my lodge,” Uncle Andrew said. “You can rest there. It’s at the top of this cliff. When you feel better, you may go on by yourself.”
    “I don’t know this path,” the man muttered. “I’m not sure I know you. But you’re mighty kind, stranger, mighty kind.” His voice weakened, and his body sagged. “I guess I could take a little help, boys.”
    He collapsed, and the boys carried him the rest of the way to the lodge, up the steps, and into the big living room, where they lowered him to the couch. “I’m sorry,” he said weakly. “I thought I could make it.... I’ve got to keep going... so close now... so close....”
    “Now,” Bill Hawkins said, “I’ll get Slim and dump him into the mule wagon. If you’ll lend me the mules, I’ll turn him over to Sam Owens.”
    Mrs. Moore and Linnie had been working in their own cabin, but when they heard the Bob-Whites’ voices, they hurried over to the lodge.
    Uncle Andrew met them at the door. “A man’s been hurt,” he told Mrs. Moore. “We need your help.”
    Mrs. Moore hurried anxiously to the couch and bent over the injured man. His eyes were closed. “Is he badly hurt?” she inquired. “How did it happen?” At her voice, the man’s blue eyes opened wide. “Annie!” he cried. “My Annie!”
    “God in Heaven!” Mrs. Moore cried, down on her knees, her face close to the stranger’s. “Is it Matthew? Back from the dead? Is it his ghost?” She ran her hand over the cloud of blond hair and whiskers. “Oh, Matthew, speak to me! What happened? Are you alive? Mr. Belden, where was he? Is he man or ghost?”
    “He’s alive, Mrs. Moore,” Uncle Andrew said gently, hardly able, himself, to speak.
    “Is it really your father?” Trixie asked, her voice filled with awe. “Linnie, can it be your very own father, alive?”
    “If Mama says so,” Linnie said, her voice trembling. “If she knows him, then it’s my daddy!” She dropped on her knees and put her arm across her father. “Oh, Daddy,” she cried, tears streaming, “we needed you so!”
    “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s brother-in-law’s aunt’s sister,” said Mart and broke the tension. “Jeepers creepers, do things ever happen to us! He’s been living in the old ghost cabin a short way from here. Why didn’t he let his family know?”
    “I think something happened, and he lost his memory,” Brian said thoughtfully. “It does happen. When his head was battered by Slim, his memory must have returned.”
    “I think you’re right,” Jim agreed. “Gee, I’m sure glad for Mrs. Moore and Linnie.”
    “And how!” Mart said. “I’ll bet the first thing he’ll want is a shave. That blond halo fooled a lot of people. He made a number-one ghost. And, say, he’s been up to some queer tricks... that bundle over his shoulder, those gunshots, all that wandering around he’s done, scaring people. Gosh, look at Jacob, licking his hand.”
    “Yes, that’s one of the things that seemed strange about the ghost,” Trixie said, “the way Jacob followed him and never barked at him.”
    “I always told you horses and dogs know a lot more than people think they do,” Honey said. “Isn’t it all just wonderful?”
    “He still has a few things to clear up,” Mart said skeptically.
     
    When Matthew Moore had rested and was stronger, he cleared up quite a few things.
    “I was hunting over near Wagon Trail, south of Springfield,” he said. “You know, Annie, that wild country where I liked best to go. One day I ran into a man—a bad man, a very bad