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 any more,” 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 fog-horn 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!”