[1] See “The Go Ahead Boys on Smugglers’ Island.”
Meanwhile Fred had decided that he would make some investigations of his own. His apparent lack of courage had reacted now and he was determined to do something which would enable him to redeem himself in the eyes of his companions.
Accordingly when his friends decided early in the afternoon that they would take the automobile and go to the country club for a game of tennis he excused himself on the plea that there were some other and very important matters to which he must attend.
It was a matter of self-denial for Fred to decline to join his companions in a visit to the country club. This place throughout the summer afternoons was one that was marked in the region. Crowds of young people assembled there and the tennis courts and golf links were occupied by people who were finding their vacation days passing all too rapidly in the beautiful region.
To the protests of his friends Fred refused to listen. Even the fact that his absence might prevent a game of tennis from being played did not appeal to him. He quietly and steadfastly adhered to his purpose.
Soon after luncheon he saw his friends depart, although the last words he heard were their calls for him to reconsider and join them.
Previous to their departure George called Fred into the library and in a low voice said to him, “Take my advice, lad, and don’t try it.”
“Don’t try what?” Fred inquired.
“You know what I mean.”
“I haven’t the least idea.”
“Well, then I tell you again that my advice to you is not to do it.”
“But I don’t know what you mean.”
“If you’ll think it over for two or three hours I’m sure you’ll find out,” declared George and he withdrew from the room.
George’s warning was still fresh in Fred’s mind when the boys no longer could be seen. He was still mystified by the strange warning. He was positive that he had not spoken to any of his friends concerning the project in his mind and therefore it was impossible that George could have heard any word of his plans.
Assured that his companions had departed, Fred soon afterward set forth on his solitary expedition. He had, however, not entered the road before he saw the automobile returning.
“What’s wrong?” he called as the car stopped in front of the long, winding driveway that led to the farmhouse, which was located back on the hillside.
“I went off without my tennis racquet,” explained George. “You have decided to come with us, haven’t you, Fred?
“No, I’m not going,” replied Fred.
“But you’re going somewhere,” said George. “What are you doing down here in the road if you’re not? I thought you had some very important matters which you had to attend to this afternoon?”
“I have,” and Fred refused to listen to the renewed pleadings of his friend, although he did not start on his way to the old Meeker House until once more the automobile had passed out of sight. He was suspicious as he walked on that George’s return for the racquet had been a pretense on his part. He was somewhat suspicious now that George believed he was about to go back to the old house, although what had given him that impression it was impossible for him to say.
On his journey Fred had taken with him the collie dog which belonged to George. The animal was unusually beautiful and its owner was exceedingly proud of it, as it had won a prize whenever he had exhibited it.
Delighted to be permitted to accompany Fred the intelligent animal expressed his pleasure in his own noisy and active manner.
It was not until Fred at last had arrived at the road in front of the old house that the collie displayed any uneasiness. When Fred turned in at the open gateway the dog, looking up into his face whined, and then apparently convinced that protests on his part were unavailing, turned and ran from the place.
Startled by the unexpected action Fred returned to the road and watched the dog as it fled swiftly homeward. A feeling of uneasiness crept over him despite his attempt to laugh. It was impossible for spooks to be found, he assured himself, on such a day. The afternoon sun, warm, and yet not unduly warm, was flooding the beautiful region with its beams. The fertile land, the attractive houses, even the woods back upon the hillside all seemed to be sharing in the absolute quiet that prevailed. Not a sound was to be heard save the noisy flights of the winged grasshoppers or the occasional unmusical sound which proclaimed the presence of locusts.
Determined to ignore the momentary impression which the unwillingness of the dog to accompany him into the old house had aroused, Fred once more turned toward the rear of the old building. A fallen grape-arbor on his right and the tangled mass of vines that grew along the ground showed how long it had been since the place had received any attention. There was an air of neglect and decay manifest wherever he looked. The passing boys had thrown stones or snowballs at the windows until only a few panes were left. The chimneys had crumbled in part, so that not one was standing in its original form. The grass was high and tangled and the shrubs in the yard were rank and overgrown. The place which manifestly at one time had been the abode of people who had given it every care and affection had now been forgotten.
And yet, was it really forgotten? Fred vividly recalled the experience of the preceding evening as he advanced toward the kitchen door. The door still was hanging upon its hinges and was only partly closed. Doubtless it had been left ajar by George in his exit the night before.
Fred stepped cautiously inside the building. The silence that followed for a time was unbroken. The very stillness itself produced its effect upon the boy and when he stopped and looked intently all about him, his heart was beating rapidly, although he assured himself there was no cause for fear.
Suddenly from the front room came a sound that was unusual and somewhat startling in the prevailing stillness. It was a sound not unlike that produced by a noisy rattler in the hands of a small boy. The noise, however, was forgotten, when, to Fred’s intense amazement, which included perhaps an element of alarm, he was startled by the sound of footsteps on the stairway.
Once more he assured himself that it was broad daylight. Again he recalled the statement which he had heard many a time that in such houses there was nothing to be feared except after the shades of night had fallen. He could plainly see the rays of the afternoon sun as they entered through the open window and fell across the floor of the room in which he was standing.
But the footsteps could not be denied. The sound became plainer. For an instant Fred glanced timidly toward the door and was strongly tempted to run from the place.
Before he started, however, the footsteps ceased, the old door at the foot of the stairway creaked upon its hinges and a moment later Fred saw standing before him a man, whose appearance proclaimed him to be a tramp.
The surprise was mutual, and for a moment the man and the boy stared blankly at each other. Fred suspected that the stranger doubtless had been sleeping in the upper room. Indeed the boy laughed in his relief as he was confident now that he had discovered the source of the strange sounds that had been heard the preceding evening.
“Hello, young man,” called the tramp in a low, guttural voice. “Did you come in here to wake me up? I told me valet not to call me until five o’clock.”
“No, I didn’t come in here to wake you up,” said Fred quietly.
“Maybe you come from the hospital?”
“No,” said Fred simply.
“I’m expecting somebody from the hospital.”
“What’s the matter? Are you sick?”
“Yes, I be. Leastwise, I’ve got some symptoms I don’t like.”
“Tell me what the trouble is,” suggested Fred good-naturedly. “Perhaps I can help you.”
“From the best I can find out I think I am threatened with hydrostatic internal spontaneous combustion.”
“It’s more likely your conscience,” laughed Fred.
“No, it isn’t my conscience. I can stick a pin in that and not flinch. No, it’s something else that’s the matter with me. I feel as if I were burning up inside.”
“You’re not going to get anything out of me,” laughed Fred, “to put out the fire.”
“That’s a pity,” said the tramp, who now seated himself quietly on the foot of the stairs. “That’s a pity. All I need is a nickel to stop that roaring flame. I’m suffering from another trouble too,” added the tramp.
“What’s that?”
“Overweariness of the flesh. I’ve had that for considerable time. It’s a great source of suffering. Still, I don’t know that either of those is quite as bad as something else.”
“What, have you got more troubles still?”
“Yes, I have.”
“What are they?”
“Well, the chief one is that I’m an orphan. There isn’t any home waiting for little Willie.” The man shook his head in mock pathos and Fred laughed heartily. “I have consulted specialists,” began the tramp once more, “but I don’t find any one to relieve me. The last man I went to said he thought the best thing he could prescribe would be for me to go out in the country where I could breathe fresh air and not have to endure hard labor.”
“What were you doing, breaking stone?” laughed Fred.
For a moment the tramp glared upon the lad, but a moment later he said good-naturedly, “If I thought you knew what that meant I would give you something to make you remember this visit a long time. No, my great trouble is that I’m too ardent an American. I insist upon seeing my own country. I have been going to and fro, wandering up and down the land—”
“You’re not the only one,” broke in Fred. “It seems to me I’ve heard about another individual who is going about like a roaring lion.”
“Why don’t you come in and sit down,” suggested the tramp, apparently ignoring Fred’s last suggestion. “Ever been in this old house before?”
“Once.”
“When was that?”
“Last night.”
“How long did you stay?”
“I don’t remember. We left in such a hurry,” said Fred somewhat ruefully.
“Oh, you found the spooks, did you?”
“We heard some strange noises. The strangest of all was that some one called my name.”
“Oh, that’s not strange,” declared the tramp lightly. “I’ve been in this house hundreds of times. I have heard my name called and never flinched once. Sometimes the constable calls it and sometimes somebody else, but it doesn’t make any difference; I never answer. If you’d like to look through the old house I’ll show you around.”
“That’s just what I should like to do,” exclaimed Fred eagerly.
The knowledge that he was not to make the investigation entirely alone doubtless strengthened the courage of the boy. All his friends were aware that he was not cowardly and yet somehow his strange experience of the preceding evening in the old Meeker House had deeply affected him. Convinced as he was that there was an explanation to be found for every mysterious happening, nevertheless he was somewhat nervous at the thought of being alone in the neglected building.
“I have spent some time in here,” said the tramp, “as I told you. It is a queer old house. For example, right here in this room,” he added as he led the way into the front room, “there is a concealed closet. I don’t think any one would ever find it unless he was told of it.”
As he spoke the strange man turned a button, which was apparently a part of the molding of the stairway.
In response to his quick and energetic pull a door was opened and as Fred peered within he saw there was a small room perhaps six or seven feet square. It was directly under the stairway and when he looked into the adjoining room he saw that it extended within that room also.
“What was that for?” he said as he turned to his companion.
“I don’t know,” replied the tramp. “I suspect, though, that that is where they used to put the boys when they were naughty.”
The tone of the man’s voice, the language which he used; indeed the very bearing of the stranger, increased Fred’s curiosity concerning him. Was this man no more than he appeared to be? Was he really a tramp, as he said he was? His clothing was old and worn, the care of his person had been neglected and at first glance any observer might think that he was an ordinary vagabond. Perhaps he was, Fred thought, and yet somehow he was convinced that there were other things to be explained in connection with the stranger.
“Come up stairs,” said the tramp, leading the way up the stairway.
Fred followed obediently and soon found himself in the hallway from which opened several rooms. Some of these were large, though all were low. For a moment, as he stopped to look about him, it seemed to Fred that he almost saw the sights that the house had witnessed one hundred years before this time. What stories of life and death, of suffering and joy these old rooms might have told had they been endowed with the power of speech.
Somehow, although Fred was unable to account for his feeling, it seemed that unseen witnesses were about him and that the presence of himself and the tramp in these rooms was very like an intrusion. He did not speak concerning his feelings, however, and after a hasty inspection the two returned to the room below.
“What’s that?” demanded Fred suddenly as from the chimney there came sounds like those which he had heard the preceding evening.
“I cannot see,” replied the tramp, his eyes twinkling as he spoke.
“I cannot see, either,” said Fred, “but I can hear. Don’t you know what that noise is?” As he spoke the strange sound was repeated. It was a broken note, sharp and yet long-drawn out. It was clearly heard, too, and yet Fred was convinced now that it was no ghostly voice from which the chatter came. But what was it? His companion did not explain to him and he himself had no conception of the source of the strange sound.
They proceeded through the various rooms on the first floor, but nothing was discovered that in any way explained the mysterious events which Fred had come to investigate.
Conversation had almost ceased, the tramp seldom speaking except to call to Fred to follow him, and Fred only occasionally asking such questions as occurred to him.
“The cellar is the strangest part of all,” said the tramp. “You don’t want to leave until you have seen that part of the old house.”
“All right,” declared Fred lightly. “I came over to see what I could find, and if there’s anything in the cellar worth finding I want to see it.”
The stairs to the cellar were low and broad, but the wood in places had decayed and fallen away. As a consequence when the tramp descended upon the third step the rotten timbers in part gave way and he was compelled to leap to the ground below him. Fred too jumped, but the mishap did not cause any inconvenience, though neither of them spoke when both arose.
The light was dim, entering the place from two open windows which were just above the ground. In silence the investigators moved about the place until at last Fred said, “It seems to me like a dungeon down here. I don’t know what they could have kept here.”
“Probably they used to come down here with a candle. I have an idea that if you boys thought you saw and heard strange things here last night you were not unlike the boys of one hundred years ago who came down here after apples and potatoes.”
“That’s right,” laughed Fred, although his laughter was not hearty. “No man could crawl through either of those two windows. There isn’t much more than room enough to put your arm through either of them.”
“Wait a minute,” said the tramp abruptly. “I’ll be back here with a light. I want to show you something.”
“What is it?” demanded Fred.
“Why, there’s a well here in one corner. I don’t know whether it was made in case the Meekers were attacked by the Indians and they wanted to be sure of having what water they needed, or whether the house was built over the old well, which they perhaps filled in and since then it has fallen away.”
“Never mind,” called Fred. “I’ll go upstairs with you. I don’t care anything about the old well.”
“But I want to show it to you,” declared the tramp. “You wait here and I’ll be back in a minute.”
Hastily the strange man retraced his way to the room above, but no sooner had he gained the place he was seeking than the massive door was dropped into place and left Fred in almost complete darkness.
The first feeling of the boy was that some accident had befallen his recent companion. He listened intently, but he did not hear any sound that indicated any trouble in the room above.
Following this feeling of fear came the sensation of intense loneliness. Although the room was only dimly lighted, by this time Fred’s eyes had become somewhat accustomed to the semi-darkness and he was able to see all about him. A pile of boards in one corner of the cellar were the only objects he distinguished.
At first Fred had no feeling of fear. He expected the door to be opened at once and he waited confidently for a hail from the man who had just left him. However, when several minutes elapsed and he heard no call nor was any attempt made to open the door, a feeling of alarm swept over him. Again he glanced hastily about the cellar and keenly watched the light of the setting sun as its beams were cast through the little windows.
Convinced that night was near at hand and somewhat alarmed now at his predicament, Fred rushed to the heavy door and did his utmost to lift it. Whether or not the door was fastened he did not know, but his efforts were unavailing. The massive door was unmoved and when a few minutes had elapsed Fred was convinced that he was helpless to lift it.
Astonished by what he had already learned, he remained standing at the foot of the stairway and in his loudest tones called to the man who had recently left him. “Open the door! Open the door!” he shouted. “I can’t get out. The door is fast.”
His tones increased in loudness as he discovered that no attention was paid his hail.
Repeatedly the anxious lad pounded upon the cellar-door and repeated his calls. The silence that rested over the old house was unbroken. Apparently no one was within hailing distance. What had become of the tramp was not clear, but apparently he had departed from the old Meeker House.
Almost desperate now, Fred dragged the boards from the corner in which he had discovered them and piling them up on the floor beneath the little window that opened upon the road he soon was able to look out upon the scene. No one was within sight. To call for help now would be useless, if the tramp really had departed from the house.
He carefully examined the windows to see if it would be possible for him to lift the sash and thus make an opening that would be large enough to enable him to crawl through. He was unable, however, to accomplish his task and soon concluded that his sole reliance now was to wait until some one passed in the road and call to him for help.
Not many minutes had passed before a farm-wagon, drawn by two horses, was seen approaching. The farmer who was driving the team was apparently unaware of any call upon him, for his rattling wagon soon passed on and in spite of Fred’s loudest calls for help he did not stop.
“I don’t believe I am making enough noise,” Fred sturdily declared to himself. “The next one that passes I’ll make him hear me whether he wants to or not.”
A brief time afterward he discovered a boy driving a cow not far away on the road. He was approaching the corner on which the old Meeker House stood and in a brief time would be within hailing distance.
Convinced that his call before had not been heard because he had not used tones sufficiently loud, Fred increased his efforts. He shouted in tones that were unnatural, they were so high keyed. He then whistled and gave his school yell as being likely to be heeded when his own call might be unheard.
Nor were his efforts in vain. Fred saw the boy when he approached the corner stop abruptly and give one startled look toward the old house. A moment later Fred saw a picture which he never was able to forget. The cow, with tail elevated, was running swiftly from the place, while close behind her followed the boy, who at frequent intervals stopped and looked behind him at the old Meeker House. It was evident to Fred what thoughts were in the mind of the lad, for his frequent glances, as well as his manner, betrayed his terror. Evidently he had heard stories of the old place that had not induced him to enter the building when such strange and unearthly sounds issued from the cellar.
A moment later the horn of an automobile was heard and soon afterward a car turned the corner. Fred was nearly hopeless by this time, but in desperation once more he did his utmost to make his voice heard. The automobile, however, passed on and apparently his calls for aid were unheard.
Darkness would be settling over the land within a few minutes. Fred thought of his friends, who doubtless by this time had returned from the country-club and were puzzled to account for the absence of their friend.
Convinced that he was the only one except the tramp who knew where he was at that time, Fred resolutely prepared to endure the wait that must elapse before relief could be had. As he turned away from the window he was startled by sounds that came from the room directly above him. The boy, alarmed now and thoroughly distressed, stopped abruptly and waited for a repetition of the noise which had aroused him.
There was no question about the repetition of the strange sound in the upper room. To the excited boy there were evidences that people were walking over the board floors. Indeed, he was positive he could hear the slow, measured footfalls of some one who was walking back and forth in the room directly above him. A moment later he was equally convinced that the sound of the whistling creatures which had been heard when the four boys first visited the house was now repeated.
A moment later there came a rushing sound of many wings. For a moment Fred’s courage almost deserted him, his flesh seemed to creep. He stopped abruptly in the darkness and spoke aloud to himself, “This will never do. It is all foolishness. There isn’t any such thing as a spook anyway, so why should you be afraid of one?”
At that moment, however, the sound of the rushing wings was heard again and all Fred’s efforts to strengthen his heart proved unavailing. The flying creatures were in the cellar, there was no question about that now. Fred almost cried aloud as he heard the wings coming closer to the place he was standing.
A moment later the flying creatures seemed to be circling the cellar and in the midst of it all the sharp twitter which had so strangely impressed him the preceding evening was now heard again and within a few feet of him. Then, too, there was the sound of some one walking again in the room above him. Had Fred been in a less nervous condition he would have been aware that it was no ghostly walk which he heard, for the footfalls were heavy and plainly those of some one whose weight was not slight. Fred, however, was in no condition calmly to consider these things. The darkness was almost appalling now and surrounded as he was by unseen winged creatures his fears redoubled.
He looked again at the cellar windows, but escape through them was impossible. Almost in a frenzy the frightened boy decided that help must be found from some source. In his desperation he ran to the cellar door and pushed against it with all his strength. To his amazement the door readily yielded to his onslaught. He pushed up the heavy door and in a moment he was in the yard.
He was in the kitchen when the door once more fell back into its place. The loud report startled the unseen creatures and even after he had gained the ground outside the building he heard the strange twittering that seemed now to come from the chimney. The noise made by the wings of the flying creatures also was plainly heard. Whatever the explanation might be the whole place and experience seemed so uncanny to the nervous boy that he instantly fled toward the road not far away.
Even when he gained the highway his one supreme thought still was of flight. Instantly beginning to run he steadily increased the pace at which he was fleeing until his breathing became labored and perspiration was pouring down his face. Occasionally he glanced behind him in his mad flight and on one occasion as he did so his foot was caught in some obstruction and he was thrown heavily upon the ground.
Falling, however, was not uncommon in the experience of Fred. Indeed, his friends declared that he was like a rubber ball, he bounced up after every fall as if the contact with the ground had only afforded him additional power.
The road was dusty and as Fred’s flight continued his appearance became steadily worse. Fortunately, however, in the dim light not one of the few people who met him recognized him, or discovered his plight. The one great purpose in his mind was still to run. The greatest possible distance between himself and the old Meeker House must be made and in his determination this distance steadily and rapidly increased. Occasionally he glanced behind the trees, the dim outlines of which were plainly to be seen. Somehow there was a fear in his mind that some enemy might be loitering behind these shelters. Once when he ran past an old and deserted barn that stood near the roadway he was confident that he heard sounds of weird laughter issuing from the tumbling structure. Indeed, in whichever direction the boy looked, it seemed to him he discovered evidences of the very enemies whom he had left behind him in his flight.
Somehow at last Fred found himself in the long, shaded lane or driveway that led from the road up to the house of his friend. The trees were tall poplars and stood like sentinels guarding each side of the road. Even now Fred’s fears had not disappeared, although he saw the lights gleam from the windows of the old farmhouse before him.
So weary was he by his long flight and worn by his excitement that when at last he swiftly mounted the steps of the piazza his foot slipped and once more the unfortunate boy fell upon the floor.
Aroused by the sound his three friends instantly rushed from the room in which they were seated and a moment later discovered their friend in his predicament.
“What in the world is the matter with you?” demanded George as the three boys gazed in astonishment at Fred.
“N-n-o-t-h-in’. N-n-o-t-h-in’,” gasped Fred.
“You look as if there was nothing doing,” said Grant, repressing a smile as the plight of Fred became manifest in the light. “Actually you look as if you belonged in a lunatic asylum.”
“I guess I do,” responded Fred.
“Well, what’s the matter?” demanded John. “You haven’t told us where you have been nor what you have been doing.”
“I can’t. I can’t now,” said Fred. “Give me a chance to rest up.”
“You need a bath more than you need a rest,” declared George laughingly, as he became convinced that nothing serious had happened to his friend. “Come upstairs and I’ll see that you get what you deserve.”
“It’s lucky everybody doesn’t get what he deserves. If he did—”
“Never mind that,” directed George. “Come on upstairs and take your bath and get a change of clothes and you’ll feel in your right mind once more.”
Acting promptly upon the suggestion Fred withdrew from his friends for a time and a half-hour later, when he returned to the piazza, he was not able entirely to conceal his feeling of chagrin. It was true that he had had some strange experiences, but it was difficult now to believe that they were all real. Certainly his companions were very much in evidence and as they seated themselves, George said promptly, “Now my lad, tell us what happened to you.”
“Well, I don’t mind telling you,” said Fred, “that I went over to the old Meeker House.”
“That’s just what I thought,” laughed George, “and you stayed there until it was so dark that you heard those strange noises again, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir, I did that, and a good deal more.”
“What else? Tell us about it. Why don’t you talk?” demanded John impatiently.
“It isn’t anything I want to talk much about,” said Fred positively in a low voice. “I tell you there’s something strange about that house. I went over there late this afternoon and found a tramp.”
“Where?” broke in George. “In the house?”
“Yes, it was in the house and he at once offered to become my guide, counselor and friend.”
“What do you mean?” inquired Grant.
“Just what I say,” said Fred. “He showed me through the old building. Finally he took me into the cellar and left me there, though he took pains not to close the old cellar-door. For a while I didn’t mind it, but when I found I couldn’t get out of the place, for the windows were too small for me to crawl through, and I couldn’t lift the big door, I didn’t know just what to do.”
“Well, what did you do?” demanded John.
“Why, I called, shouted and whistled through the window, but I couldn’t get anybody to pay any attention to me. Yes, there was one who heard me,” he added. “He was a small boy driving a cow and when he heard the calls from the old Meeker House he lost no time in withdrawing from that part of the country. Even the cow he was driving seemed to feel just as he did, for her tail went up and her head down and she joined in the race in that graceful, polite way that cows have when they run.”
“It’s plain you saw something besides the spooks then,” said George, laughing heartily. “Look yonder,” he added quickly, pointing as he spoke toward the end of the piazza.
In the dim light Uncle Sim was seen standing there, his eye-balls shining and his intense interest in the conversation of the boys manifest in the expression of his face.
“Yas, suh. Yas, suh,” he said when the boys first became aware of his presence, “I don’ tol’ yo’ not to go near dat ol’ Meeker House.”
“Don’t you ever go there?” asked Fred.
“Me go dar? No, suh. No, suh. It would take fo’ yoke ob oxen to make me go inside dat ol’ house in de daytime and in de night I reckon Caleb’s Army couldn’t drive me in dar’.”
“What became of your tramp friend?” inquired George when the boys arose to enter the room.
“That’s what I should like to know,” said Fred somewhat ruefully.
“Well, come on in, we’ll all feel better after dinner,” said George cheerfully, as he led the way into the dining room.
The strange experience which had befallen Fred was the chief topic of conversation. Even their interest, however, was broken when a half-hour had passed and word was brought that Uncle Sim was desirous of speaking at once to Mr. George.
Excusing himself George withdrew from the dining room and a few minutes later when he returned he said, “What do you think has happened, fellows?”
“We don’t know. How should we know?” retorted John. “If you’ve got something to say why don’t you say it?”
“That’s just what I am going to do,” said George, but he had scarcely begun his statement before his three friends leaped from their seats at the table and quickly followed him as he led the way out of the house.
“What’s the trouble? What’s the trouble?” demanded George excitedly when the boys had run out through the kitchen door.
“Uncle Sim says that my car is gone,” replied George.
“Gone? Gone where?” demanded Grant.
“He doesn’t know and that’s what he wanted to find out from us.”
“Yas, suh. Yas, suh,” broke in the old colored man who now approached the place where the boys were standing. “Dat car sho’ am gone. I jes’ came to fin’ out if any ob yo’ young gen’lemen disremembered who might hab tuk de car.”
“Why, there hasn’t anybody taken it,” said John. “Have you looked in the garage, George?”
In spite of his perplexity George laughed slightly as he said, “I certainly have. You don’t think I would solemnly state to you that the car was gone if I had seen it in the garage, do you?”
The boys by this time had advanced to the open door of the garage and a hasty examination confirmed the statement of the old colored man that the automobile was not there.
“What do you suppose it means?” inquired Fred.
“It means somebody has taken it,” replied George.
“You mean stolen it?”
“That’s what I don’t know. I’m trying to explain to you fellows that the car isn’t here and if it isn’t here it must be somewhere else. Now, if it is somewhere else how did it get there and who took it there? Do you see? Can I make any impression on any of you?”
“Why don’t you say in plain English just what you mean?” retorted John. “Do you think your car has been stolen?”
“I know it’s gone and that’s all I know.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m going to take you fellows and Uncle Sim in the old car and find out what has happened to the new one, if I can.”
“That’s all right, we’ll be with you in a minute,” declared George.
Speedily the boys entered the house and securing their caps at once prepared to accompany George, who soon started down the lane toward the road beyond. There was no plan clearly defined in his mind nor had any one in the party any suggestions to make as to whom the thief might be or what had become of the missing automobile.
In response to George’s queries Uncle Sim related his own experiences. He had been coming in from the barn and noticed that the door of the garage was still open. As he had strict orders to see that this was closed every night, he turned aside to carry out the directions. To his surprise he found that the new automobile was not in its accustomed place. His first thought naturally was that the boys had taken it for another drive and yet at that very moment he heard the sound of their laughter issuing from the dining-room.
Puzzled by the fact he at once entered the house and soon made his presence and his errand known.
His statement, startling as it was, at first had not alarmed George, but as soon as he had made a hasty investigation he too was as troubled as his dusky friend. The car was gone and there was no accounting for its departure.
“Did any of you fellows hear the automobile when it went down the driveway?” George inquired of his friends as they sped along the dusty road.
“Not one of us,” said John, positively.
“That’s the trouble in having such a good car,” said George dryly. “You see it makes so little noise that it couldn’t be heard a few feet away.”
“I don’t think that was it,” spoke up Grant. “I think it’s because certain members of our party were making so much noise that an earthquake or thunder would have been drowned.”
“That’s all right, then,” said George dryly. “You wait until we find that car and then we’ll talk a little more about it.”
“What was the number of your car?” asked Fred.
“27155.”
“I think a man has got more nerve to steal an automobile than anything else. Of course he knows he will be taken,” declared Fred.
“Not always,” answered George. “Down on the sea shore there was a certain firm last summer that did a regular business in stolen automobiles. They painted them different colors and did a few little things that altered the appearance so that a man wouldn’t recognize his own car.”
“Is that so? Is that true?” demanded Grant.
“It certainly is. I know a man who lost a car down there. Those men work all through the towns and cities in the northern part of the state and run down to the seashore with the stolen cars in the night when nobody is around and the next day the cars wouldn’t be recognized by the very men who were looking for them.”
“Well, I hope we shan’t find your car down there,” said Fred warmly.
“I hope we shan’t,” replied George, “though the main thing I want just now is to find the car anyway. Some of the good times I promised you fellows this summer will go begging, I’m afraid, if we have lost our automobile.”
“We’ll find it, George,” said John, patting his friend on the shoulder.
Meanwhile Uncle Sim, who was still a member of the party, had taken no share in the conversation. At that moment, however, he uttered an exclamation of surprise and directed the attention of the Go Ahead boys to the old Meeker House which now was not far ahead of them.
“Yas, suh. Yas, suh,” said Uncle Sim, his voice trembling in his excitement. “I sho’ do see some lights in dat cellar ob de ol’ house. ‘Pears like dere’s always somethin’ wrong in de ole Meeker House.”
“How it is, Fred? Do you agree with Uncle Sim?” laughed George.
“I never saw any lights in it,” replied Fred glumly.
“No, but that’s what you wanted to see, I guess, more than anything else,” laughed Grant. “But there’s a light there now,” he added suddenly, “I saw it myself. It shines for a minute and then it is gone. There it is again!” he exclaimed a moment later. “You can see it shining through the cellar windows. What do you suppose it is?”
“Spooks,” said George solemnly. “They usually have a supper there once a year and I think to-night is the regular time for their meeting.”
“Do you want to stop?” demanded Fred quickly.
“I don’t mind,” replied George. There was no enthusiasm, however, manifest among the boys, although every one jokingly declared that he was not afraid. The excuse was commonly given that the necessity of hasty investigation into the loss of the automobile demanded action in other directions. Consequently no stop was made and although every boy was frequently glancing behind him at the old Meeker House no light was seen nor did any additional or unusual sounds come from that direction.
When the boys had gone beyond the corner their thoughts once more returned to the problem which was confronting them. The mystery of the lost car must be solved. Although there were many suggestions offered there was not one of the boys that had any clearly outlined plan as to what must be done in order to find the lost car or obtain information concerning those who had taken it.
“I have a suggestion,” broke in Grant at last.
“What’s that?” demanded Fred.
“Why, it’s your friend, the tramp. Probably he’s the man who has been hanging around the place for several days and when his opportunity came he took it.”
“Which do you mean, the opportunity, or the car?” laughed Fred.
“Both. His opportunity was to take the car.”
“That tramp,” declared Fred solemnly, “didn’t have strength enough about him to push the button to turn on the power.”
“That’s something you don’t know,” retorted his friend. “I think when you are through with it you’ll find that the car disappeared at the same time the tramp did. No one has seen him since,” added Grant, positively.
“And from all I can learn,” retorted Fred, “nobody saw him before except myself, so you haven’t run down your problem yet.”
When the boys arrived at the Corners, as the little nearby hamlet was called, they made many inquiries of the people they met, but no word concerning the missing car was heard. There were several suggestions from the country people that other cars had been lost within the past few weeks, but none of them was able to add to the information which the boys already possessed.
Disappointed by their failures, George at last said, “I think the best thing for us to do will be to go back home. I’ll call up my father on the ’phone and if he isn’t coming out pretty soon he will tell me what to do.”
In response to George’s suggestion the boys once more clambered into the car and in a brief time were noisily speeding over the road on their way back to their friend’s house.
“We’ve got two mysteries now,” suggested George.
“Three you mean,” spoke up Fred quickly.
“We’ve got the mystery of the lost car and the mystery of the old Meeker House. That makes two. I don’t see where your third comes in.”
“The third is our mysterious friend, the tramp, that I saw in the old Meeker House.”
“What’s the mystery about him?” laughed George. “I don’t find anything very mysterious about an unwashed tramp you found in the old house. Very likely he had crawled in there to sleep and you waked him up.”
“He was awake all right,” declared Fred promptly. “There isn’t any question about that. He wasn’t moving around as fast as I have seen some, but he didn’t take it all out in motions, either.”
“It seems to me,” laughed Grant, “that you find in that tramp whatever you want to find, Fred. First you say he’s one kind of man and then you tell us he’s another.”
“Wait until you see him,” said Fred sagely. “Maybe he’s in the old house now. It can’t be far ahead.”
“Not more than a quarter of a mile,” suggested Grant.
For some reason the boys became silent as the car speeded forward in the dim light. The eyes of every one were turned toward the old house which had perplexed them in so many ways.
As they came near the corner John said in a low voice, “There’s not only a ghost of a man in that house, but there’s the ghost of the automobile. Do you hear that horn?”
All the boys listened intently and to their consternation the faint sound of a horn was heard, issuing from the old house.
“What do you suppose that means?” demanded Fred in a whisper.
“I told you there was the ghost of an automobile in that house, didn’t I?” demanded John.
“Look yonder,” called Grant quickly. “There’s that light again in the cellar. Don’t you think we had better stop and find out what all this means?”
At that moment the faint sound of the horn was heard again from the house and for an instant lights flashed from every window.
These, however, quickly disappeared and although the boys waited several minutes, the sound was not repeated nor were the lights again seen.