“Ye’ll nae lose the house, Flora,” Rory grumbled, “nor need fairy tales o’ treasures to keep it.”
“The new journal’s no fairy tale, Mr. McNab,” Jupiter said.
“Call me Rory, boy, and I’ll admit the journal’s real if Flora says so,” Rory said grudgingly. “But it no proves the treasure’s more than the nonsense of fools.”
“But the letter, Rory!” young Cluny cried.
“Letter?” Jupiter repeated.
Rory ignored the leader of the trio. His eyes narrowed. “We’d best have a read o’ that journal. Hand it to me.”
Cluny took the journal from his mother, and gave it to Rory. The two of them sat on a long bench in front of the smouldering fire and began to read the journal. Mrs. Gunn nodded thoughtfully.
“Yes,” she said, “if there was a second journal, it would have been in that chest. My husband told me that his grandfather, Angus’s son, found the original journal in the chest. Grandfather Gunn always believed there was a treasure, and that the clue to it was in old Angus’s journal. But his son — my husband’s father — said that the journal told nothing, and the treasure was just a legend.”
“Why was Angus’s son so sure, Mrs. Gunn?” Bob asked.
“Well, there’s a letter, you see? Great-grandfather Angus —” She stopped and smiled. “Perhaps I should begin at the beginning, boys. How much do you know about old Angus?”
They told her what they had found out about the wreck of the Argyll Queen and the murder of Angus Gunn back in 1872.
“You’ve read the manuscript the Historical Society is preparing? Then you know most of the story. I told the Society as much as I could — everything that I’d learned from my husband,” Mrs. Gunn said. “After the wreck, and his wanderings round California, old Angus found this valley. It reminded him of his old home in the Highlands of Scotland — especially because of the pond and its island. In Scotland, Gunn Lodge is on the shores of a long inlet of the sea — Phantom Loch. There’s an island in the loch connected to the shore by a series of great boulders, called the Phantom’s Steps — very like the little island in our pond.”
Jupiter exclaimed, “So old Angus built this house exactly like Gunn Lodge in Scotland! That’s why it looks so odd for California.”
“That’s right, Jupiter,” Mrs. Gunn acknowledged. “The real Gunn Lodge was originally built in 1352. It was called Gunn Castle then, because it was no more than a fortified tower. You needed a stronghold to protect yourself in those days.
“Over the years,” Mrs. Gunn went on, “the original tower-house was added on to and remodelled to make the house you see here. The lodge still has details that remind you of a castle, though it couldn’t be defended easily any more.
The old tower came in handy after the Gunns took to the sea in the seventeenth century. Their wives used to stand on it watching for the ships to return up the loch.”
“Same idea as a New England widow’s walk,” commented Bob.
Pete burst out, “But what about the letter, ma’am?”
“After Angus found the valley and the pond that looked so much like home, he built the house. It took him almost two years. Then he sent for his wife and son. But when they got here from Scotland months later, old Angus was dead and so were his murderers. His wife, Laura, found a letter addressed to her and hidden in an old bed-warmer.”
“Something almost no one would use except his wife!” Jupiter said with satisfaction.
“His son thought that, too, when all the rumours of treasure started,” Mrs. Gunn said. “He was sure the letter was intended to disclose the treasure, and it seemed to refer to old Angus’s journal. But Grandfather Gunn never did find a clue in Angus’s journal or anywhere else.”
“Can we see the letter, ma’am?” Pete urged.
“Of course, boys. It’s in my bedroom in a scrapbook.”
Jupiter asked, “You don’t keep it with old Angus’s other things?”
“No, I never did,” said Mrs. Gunn.
She left the living-room and returned in a moment with a scrapbook. The boys crowded round to read the old, yellowed letter:
Rory grabbed the card and glared at it. He looked at the boys suspiciously. Jupiter ignored him.
“We would like to offer our services,” he said solemnly.
“We sure would!” Pete added.
Cluny urged, “Let them try, Mum! And I’ll help!”
“Well.” Mrs. Gunn smiled. “I see no harm in it, and if there were a treasure we could certainly use it, boys.”
“Hurray!” Bob, Pete, and Cluny cried together.
Mrs. Gunn laughed. “Then what about some lunch? Treasure hunters need their strength.”
Rory threw down the card. “It’s some trick, Flora!”
“I don’t think so, Rory,” Mrs. Gunn said.
“Then I wash my hands of the whole affair,” Rory raged, and stamped out of the living-room.
Jupiter watched him go, and frowned.
* * *
The battered sign that read “Powder Gulch” pointed off the highway and along a narrow dirt road. The four boys cycled down the road and ten minutes later saw the ghost town below.
They stopped to study the town. Ruined old shacks were scattered along a dry creek bed, and dilapidated buildings with high false fronts lined the single street. One large building was labelled “Saloon”. Another had “General Store” clearly painted on it. A squat adobe building was marked “Jail”. There were also a blacksmith shop and livery stable. At the far end of the street, in the side of a mountain, stood the dark entrance to the gold mine that was the reason for the town in the old days.
“This town was abandoned about 1890 when the mine ran out,” Jupiter explained. “The creek was then dammed to make a reservoir.”
Pete groaned. “What can we expect to find here after a hundred years, Jupe?”
“I don’t know, Second,” Jupiter admitted. “But I’m certain Angus Gunn wanted Laura to look here. Maybe there was a newspaper once. Perhaps we can find some old issues around.”
“Maybe there’s even an old morgue,” said Bob, referring to the clipping files that newspapers maintain.
“I hope we don’t end up in a different kind morgue!” Pete said flatly.
“Come on,” Jupiter said.
They cycled on down to the edge of the old ghost town — and stopped! A locked gate faced them. The entire ghost town was circled by a high fence!
“It’s all fenced in!” Cluny cried. “And those signs painted on the buildings look new! You think someone’s living here again?”
“I… don’t know,” Jupiter said.
The boys waited a minute, straining to hear any signs of life in the town. But Powder Gulch remained ominously silent.
“I guess we’ll have to climb the fence, fellows,” Jupe said at last.
Dropping their bikes, the boys quietly started to climb. Moments later they stood on the other side looking up the dusty street.
“Pete, you and Bob look through the buildings on the left side of the street,” Jupiter decided nervously. “Cluny and I will take the jail and livery stable on the right, and go on to the mine. See if you can find anything about Angus Gunn and sluice timber.”
Bob and Pete nodded, and went first to the general store. They tiptoed inside and stopped, amazed. The store looked exactly as it must have a hundred years ago! The shelves were full of goods. Barrels of dried apples and flour, hardware, and leather harness crowded the low, dim room. Old-fashioned guns that shone like new hung on the walls. The long counter was clean and polished!
“Maybe someone is living here again!” Bob exclaimed softly.
“B-but… not someone from today,” Pete stammered. “Everything here looks like a hundred years ago. A store for… for ghosts!”
Bob gulped and nodded. “This is just the way the store must have been way back. As if… as if no one ever left! Even… Pete! On the counter! There’s an old ledger!”
Warily, the two boys went over to the counter. The old ledger lay open, showing names written next to orders for goods. Bob’s hands shook as he turned the pages to the entries for October 29, 1872. Pete read over his shoulder,
“Angus Gunn, Phantom Lake — 200 board-ft. sluice timber with supports; 2 barrels flour; 1 barrel beef; 4 cases dried beans.” Pete blinked. “Wow, he bought food for an army!”
“He had to feed the men he hired here,” Bob guessed. “There must have been a lot of them. Do you see anything else, Pete?” Pete shook his head. “Not in here.” They hurried out of the eerie general store. The saloon was next.
“Saloons were community centres back then,” Bob said. “A place to meet people and leave messages. Angus probably stopped for a drink here.”
The saloon was one large, dark room with a door at the rear that led to sleeping rooms. An ornate upright piano stood on the left, clean and shiny. Rows of bottles stood full behind the long, polished bar. At the rear a round table was covered with bottles and half-full glasses and scattered cards, as if a poker game were progress.
“It… it’s just like the store,” Pete said uneasily. “As if the miners are still here and just went out for a minute, and —”
Pete got no further. The loud noise of many voices suddenly filled the old saloon! The piano began to play a lively tune from the wild frontier past — but no one was at it! Glasses and bottles clinked. The sounds of drinking and shouting shook the room. There was a crash at the poker table in the rear — and a shadowy shape seemed to rise from it.
“Freeze, strangers!” a hollow voice said menacingly.
The dark, shadowy figure had a pistol in each ghostly hand!