The Mystery of the Moaning Cave Read online

  THE MYSTERY

  OF

  THE MOANING CAVE

  Robert Arthur

  A Message from Alfred Hitchcock

  It is a pleasure to welcome you on the set of the latest mystery starring those three lads who call themselves The Three Investigators. In the event that you have not become acquainted with them in their previous appearances, allow me to introduce Jupiter Jones, Pete Crenshaw, and Bob Andrews, all of Rocky Beach, California, not far from the fabled city of Hollywood.

  Some time ago the three formed the detective firm of The Three Investigators to solve any mysteries that came their way. Head of the firm is Jupiter Jones, who is known for his logical mind, his cool head, and his stubborn refusal to let any riddle get the better of him.

  The Second Investigator is Pete Crenshaw, whose athletic skill serves the firm well in times of danger. The third and most studious member of the trio is Bob Andrews, who attends to research and record keeping. The firm makes its headquarters in a mobile home trailer hidden away in The Jones Salvage Yard, run by Jupiter’s aunt and uncle.

  “We Investigate Anything” is the boys’ motto, and this time they prove it by journeying to a ranch in the California mountains to look into a cave that moans, a legendary bandit who refuses to stay dead, and some very strange happenings in a deserted valley. What they find will keep you biting your fingernails on the edge of your chair if you are the nervous type, so beware!

  And now, enough of a preview. The case is about to unfold. Lights! Camera! Action!

  ALFRED HITCHCOCK

  The Valley Moans

  “Aaoooahhhhhh—ooooooooooooo—ooooo—oo! ”

  The eerie moan rolled out across the valley in the twilight.

  “That’s it,” Pete Crenshaw whispered. “It’s started again.”

  Pete, Jupiter Jones and Bob Andrews were crouched on a high ridge in a remote corner of the Crooked-Y Ranch, just a few hundred feet from the Pacific Ocean.

  The moan came again, long, drawn-out and chilling. “Aaaaaaaaaaahhhh— ooooooooooo

  — oooo! ”

  A shiver ran up Pete’s spine. “I don’t blame the ranch hands for not wanting to come here anymore,” he said to his companions.

  “Maybe it comes from the lighthouse we saw on the way,” Bob suggested in a low tone.

  “Maybe it’s some kind of echo from the foghorn.”

  Jupiter shook his head. “No, Bob, I don’t think it’s the lighthouse. The sound is not that of a foghorn signal. Besides, there isn’t any fog this evening.”

  “Then what––” Bob began, but Jupiter was no longer crouched beside him. The stocky First Investigator was trotting off to the right along the ridge. Pete and Bob leaped up and followed. The sun was almost gone now in the crevasse between the coast mountains, and a hazy purple light hung over the valley.

  Jupiter stopped after some fifty yards. The moan came again. He listened carefully, his hand cupped behind his ear.

  Pete stared, puzzled. “What are we doing, Jupe?”

  Jupiter didn’t answer. Instead he turned and walked almost a hundred yards in the opposite direction.

  “Are we just going to walk all over this ridge, Jupe?” Bob asked, as puzzled as Pete by Jupiter’s strange actions.

  Before Jupiter could reply, another eerie moan floated through the valley.

  “Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh— ooooooooo— oooo! ”

  Jupiter turned to them. “No, Bob, we’ve completed the experiment.”

  “What experiment?” Pete blurted out. “We haven’t been doing anything but walk!”

  “We have listened to the moan from three different points on this ridge,” Jupiter explained. “In my mind I drew imaginary lines from where I listened to where the moans appeared to originate. Where the three lines crossed is the exact source of the sound.”

  Bob suddenly understood. “Sure, Pete,” he said. “It’s called triangulation. Engineers use it all the time.”

  “Precisely,” Jupiter said. “Of course, the way I did it was very rough, but it will serve our purpose.”

  “What purpose, Jupe?” asked Pete. “I mean, what did we find out?”

  “We have found that the exact source of the sound is that cave in the mountain – El Diablo’s Cave,” Jupiter announced.

  “Gee, Jupe,” Pete exclaimed, “we knew that already. Mr. and Mrs. Dalton told us.”

  Jupiter shook his head. “Good investigators do not accept what other people report without checking it themselves. Witnesses are often unreliable, as Mr. Hitchcock has told us many times.”

  Jupiter referred to the motion picture director, Alfred Hitchcock, who been a good friend of The Three Investigators ever since they had embarked on their adventures by trying to locate a haunted house for him to use in a film.

  “I guess you’re right,” Pete said. “Mr. Hitchcock did show us how little witnesses really see.”

  “Or hear,” Jupiter added, “But now I have no doubt that the moaning does come from El Diablo’s Cave. All we have to do is find out what is moaning, and––”

  The stocky boy did not finish his sentence, for the moan rolled out once more –– weird and chilling in the deep twilight of the shadowy valley. “Aaaaaahhhhhh— ooooooooooooo—

  oooooo— oo! ”

  Even Jupiter shivered this time, as long shadows began to creep across the valley.

  Pete swallowed hard. “Gosh, Jupe, Mr. Dalton and the sheriff have searched the cave three times already. They didn’t find anything.”

  “Maybe it’s some kind of animal,” Bob volunteered.

  “It doesn’t sound like any animal I ever heard,” replied Jupiter, “and, anyway, the sheriff and Mr. Dalton would have found traces of any normal animal. They’re expert hunters and trackers.”

  “Any normal animal?” Pete repeated uneasily.

  “Maybe it’s some animal no one knows is here,” Jupiter said. “Or maybe,” and the First Investigator’s eyes sparkled, “it’s El Diablo himself!”

  “Oh, no you don’t!” Pete cried. “We don’t believe in ghosts – do we?”

  Jupiter grinned. “Who said anything about ghosts?”

  “But El Diablo’s been dead almost a hundred years,” Bob objected, “If you don’t mean a ghost, Jupe what do you mean?”

  Jupiter did not get a chance to answer, for at that moment the sky beyond the valley was suddenly lit up by bright red flashes. The boys’ eyes widened as explosions seemed to shake the whole valley.

  “What is it, Jupe?” asked Bob.

  Jupiter shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  The flashes stopped and the echo of the explosions faded away. The three boys looked at each other. Then Bob snapped his fingers.

  “I know, it’s the Navy! Remember when we were coming up on the truck, Jupe, we saw all those Navy ships on practice manoeuvres? I’ll bet they’re having target practice out in the Channel Islands.”

  Pete laughed with relief. “Sure, they do that a couple of times a year. I read about it in the newspapers. They fire at some uninhabited island out there.”

  Jupiter nodded. “It was even in the papers yesterday. Night firing practice. Come on, I want to get back to the ranch and find out more about this valley.”

  Bob and Pete needed no urging for the valley had grown completely dark now. The three boys walked to their bikes, which were parked on the dirt road behind them.

  Suddenly, from across the valley, they heard a loud rumbling sound, followed by a long wail.

  The Old One

  THE wail died away across Moaning Valley.

  “That wasn’t the moan from the cave!” cried Pete.

  “No,” Jupiter agreed. “That was a man!” br />
  “In trouble,” added Bob. “Come on, fellows!”

  The sound had come from the base of the mountain that stood between the valley and the ocean—Devil Mountain, so called because of its jagged twin peaks shaped like horns.

  The boys raced across the valley to the foot of Devil Mountain, where a pile of newly fallen rocks lay strewn across the slope. Dust still filled the air.

  “Help!” a voice called feebly.

  Pete knelt down beside the grey-haired man who lay there, his leg twisted at a strange angle beneath the rocks, his face contorted with pain. “Just lie quietly,” Pete told him.

  “We’ll get you out of here right away.”

  Pete stood up and looked at Jupiter. “I think his leg is broken. We’d better go for help quickly.”

  The man on the ground was dressed in the old work clothes of a ranch hand. He gritted his teeth as he spoke.

  “You boys go to The Crooked-Y ranch house. I work there. Tell Mr. Dalton to get some men out here.”

  The boys looked at each other in dismay. Another accident for one of Mr. Dalton’s men! More trouble in Moaning Valley!

  Pete had come to The Crooked-Y to spend a two-week vacation with Mr. and Mrs.

  Dalton, the new owners of the ranch. Jess Dalton, a famous rodeo rider who had worked with Mr. Crenshaw in several Western films, had decided to retire and buy a ranch with his life savings. The Daltons had barely started rebuilding the run-down ranch when the trouble began.

  Moaning Valley, which had earned its strange name from ancient Indian legends and some violent events of old Spanish days, had begun to moan again — after fifty years of silence. As if this was not enough to scare the hired ranch hands, the accidents had started.

  The first accident occurred while two of the ranch hands were riding through Moaning Valley at dusk one evening. They suddenly heard a strange moaning noise, and their horses bolted, throwing both men. One of the men broke his arm, and both returned to the ranch talking about how there was “something spooky in that valley”. Soon after, a herd of cattle stampeded for no apparent reason in the middle of the night. Then a ranch hand walking in the valley at dusk swore he had seen a giant shape emerge from El Diablo’s Cave at the base of Devil Mountain. Shortly after that, two hands disappeared without any explanation and, though the sheriff insisted that he had found them in nearby Santa Carla, many of the ranch hands had refused to believe him.

  Pete hadn’t been at the ranch very long before he realised that the Daltons were extremely worried. Searches of the cave had revealed no explanation, and the sheriff could not pursue ghosts or legends. Both he and Mr. Dalton were sure there was some simple explanation, but so far no one had been able to find it. So Pete had hurriedly sent for Bob and Jupiter, explaining that there was a possible mystery for the Three Investigators to solve. The two boys had no trouble getting permission to come to the ranch, and the Daltons were glad to have them.

  The Crooked-Y was located only ten miles from the modern holiday resort of Santa Carla, and less than a hundred miles north of Rocky Beach on the California coast. The countryside consisted of rugged mountains, deep valleys and canyons, with isolated coves along the Pacific coast. Bob’s parents and Jupiter’s aunt and uncle had thought it a fine idea for the boys to have a chance to see a real ranch and go riding, swimming and fishing.

  But the boys were not riding or fishing or swimming; they were investigating the mystery of Moaning Valley. And that was how they had discovered the man who lay there on the ground, his leg caught beneath the pile of fallen rocks.

  “It’s this jinxed valley, that’s what it is,” the man muttered in pain. “I never should have come here… . That moaning, that’s what did it.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Jupiter said seriously. “I think the shock of the naval firing loosened some stones and the slide resulted. The side of Devil Mountain is very dry and quite steep.”

  “It was that moaning!” the injured man insisted.

  “We’d better get some help, fellows,” Pete said. “We can’t get those rocks off him alone.”

  Just then a horse whinnied close by. The boys turned to see three men riding over the top of the valley towards them. One of the men led a riderless horse. The leading rider was Mr. Dalton himself.

  “What are you boys doing here?” Mr. Dalton demanded as he dismounted. He was a tall, wiry man in a bright red shirt, faded blue jeans, and tooled, high-heeled western boots.

  His tanned, leathery face was lined with worry.

  The boys explained how they had found the injured man.

  “How do you feel, Cardigo?” Mr. Dalton asked, as he knelt down beside the ranch hand.

  “I’ve got a broken leg,” mumbled the man, “and it’s this jinxed valley that did it. I’m getting out.”

  “I think the firing of the guns loosened some rocks and started the slide,” Jupiter explained.

  “Of course,” Mr. Dalton agreed. “That was it. Hold still now, Cardigo, and we’ll have you loose in a jiffy.”

  Moments later they had removed the rocks from the injured man, and the two ranch hands had gone for the truck. They backed up to the rock-fall and carefully lifted Cardigo into the back. The truck drove off for the hospital in Santa Carla, and the three boys returned to their bikes.

  It was completely dark by the time Bob, Pete and Jupiter rode up to the ranch house and parked their bikes. Altogether there were five ranch buildings: a bunkhouse for the hands, a large barn, a smaller barn, a cookhouse, and the main house. The main house was an old, two-storey, wood-beam and adobe structure surrounded by a deep, cool porch. The whole house was covered with the bright red flowers of trumpet vine, and the deep red blooms of bougainvillea. Fenced corrals surrounded the entire group of buildings.

  Men were gathered in small grounds around the cookhouse, obviously talking about the accident. Their voices were low, but their faces showed fear and anger.

  The boys were about to go into the main house when a voice came out of the night—a deep, harsh voice.

  “What have you boys been up to?”

  On the porch something moved and the boys made out the small, wiry form and sharp, weather-lined face of Luke Hardin, the ranch foreman.

  “Big place, this ranch,” Hardin said. “Get lost mighty easy.”

  “We’re used to open country and mountains, Mr. Hardin,” Jupiter replied. “You don’t have to worry about us.”

  The foreman took a step towards them. “I heard what you’ve been up to. Moanin’

  Valley, that’s what. That place ain’t fit for youngsters, hear? You stay away from there!”

  Before the boys could protest, the door of the ranch house opened and a small, peppery woman with grey hair and a deeply tanned face bustled out.

  “Nonsense, Luke!” Mrs. Dalton snapped. “The boys aren’t children. They seem to have a heap more sense than you do.”

  “Moanin’ Valley ain’t a good place,” Hardin said stubbornly.

  “A grown man like you,” Mrs. Dalton exclaimed. “Afraid of a cave!”

  “I ain’t afraid,” Hardin said slowly. “But I ain’t afraid to face facts, neither. I lived around here all my life. Even when I was a boy I heard about Moanin’ Valley. I never believed the stories then, but now I ain’t so sure.”

  “Fiddlesticks! It’s just old superstition and you know it!” Mrs. Dalton said. Though she spoke bravely, Mrs. Dalton couldn’t quite hide the fact that she, too, was worried.

  “What do you think causes the moaning, Mr. Hardin?” Jupiter asked the foreman.

  The foreman squinted gravely at Jupiter. “Don’t know, boy. No one else does, either.

  We’ve looked, but no one’s found anything. Nothin’ we could see, that is.”

  The foreman’s eyes seemed to glow in the dark. “Indians always did say that no one could see The Old One!”

  Chapter 3

  El Diablo’s Escape

  “LUKE!” Mrs. Dalton cried.

  But the
foreman stood his ground. “I ain’t saying I believe the stories. But a man’s got to look straight at things. That cave’s started moanin’ again, but so far nobody’s found nothin’ to explain it. If it ain’t The Old One, what do you reckon it is?”

  With that, Luke Hardin walked down off the porch towards the bunkhouse. Mrs.

  Dalton stared after him with a worried expression.

  “I’m afraid this is affecting all of us,” Mrs. Dalton said. “Luke’s as brave a man as I ever saw. I never heard him talk that way before.”

  “I wonder why he decided to talk to us about The Old One?” Jupiter asked thoughtfully.

  Mrs. Dalton suddenly smiled. “I expect Luke’s just tired. We’ve all been worried and working too hard. Now, what do you boys say to some milk and cookies?”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Pete answered quickly for all of them.

  Soon the boys were eating cookies in the comfortable living-room of the old ranch house. Colourful Indian rugs covered the floor under the rustic hand-hewn furniture, and a large stone fireplace almost filled one wall. The mounted heads of deer, bear, and mountain lions hung on the walls.

  “Just what is The Old One, Mrs. Dalton?” Jupiter asked, helping himself to another cookie.

  “An old Indian legend, Jupiter, nothing more. When the Spaniards first came here a very long time ago the local Indians said that a black and shiny monster called The Old One lived in a pool deep inside the cave in Devil Mountain.”

  Pete blinked. “But if no one could see The Old One, how did they know it was black and shiny?”

  Mrs. Dalton laughed. “There, you see? Of course it doesn’t make sense. I suppose they believed that someone had once seen the thing and told others about it, and that’s how the story was handed down.”

  “What did the Spaniards think?” Bob asked.

  “Well, that was a long time ago,” Mrs. Dalton said, “and they were pretty superstitious, too. They said they didn’t believe it but they never went near the valley if they could help it.

  Only the very bravest, like El Diablo himself, went into the cave.”