A “Deserted” House
“Well, how do you like that?” Dan muttered as the Cubs gathered in a
group near the newly constructed house.
“Who was he, Brad?” Midge asked the Den Chief. “Not the contractor?”
“No, I never saw this fellow before—although his voice sounded sort of
familiar.”
“Maybe he’s one of the workmen,” Red said uneasily. “After all, we are on
private property.”
“I had permission to come here for those discs,” Brad insisted.
“Furthermore, I don’t believe that fellow was a workman. He didn’t talk
like one.”
“Or look like it either,” added Chips. Of all the Cubs, he was the only
one who had obtained a clear view of the man.
“You didn’t know him, did you?” Dan inquired.
Chips shook his head. “Never set eyes on him before. You know what I
think? He’s a tramp!”
“Say, he did look like one!” Babe cried, although he had been too far
back to catch more than a glimpse of the shadowy figure.
“And I bet a cookie he has no business being in this house!” Chips went
on excitedly. “The nerve of him ordering us away! Why, he may have broken
in and be living there!”
“Without the contractor or the owner knowing anything about it,” agreed
Dan soberly. “Say, we ought to tell Mr. Hatfield about this.”
At that moment, the Cub leader joined the group. He had been too far away
to see the stranger or to hear any of the conversation. However, from the
excited comment of the boys, he knew something was amiss.
“What goes on?” he asked, hurrying up.
Brad told him what had happened.
“I’m certain the man isn’t a workman,” he added. “We think he must be a
tramp who broke into the house and is camping there.”
Mr. Hatfield noted a nearby sign which bore the name and telephone number
of the contractor who had built the dwellings.
“I’ll telephone him as soon as we get back to Webster City,” he
announced. “These houses are supposed to be boarded up. We have no
authority to order anyone away, so we’ll just clear out.”
The Cubs knew that their leader’s advice was sound. However, they
disliked to be driven away from the premises.
“Gather up your discs, fellows, and let’s move,” Brad told the Cubs.
“It’s getting late anyhow.”
In the act of tying his plunder into a knapsack made from his sweater,
Dan glanced toward the basement window of the new house.
“Look, Brad!” he commanded. “That guy’s standing there watching us!”
“I don’t like it,” the older boy muttered. “Mr. Hatfield’s right. This is
no place for us.”
“We ought to be a match for him.”
“That’s not the point,” Brad argued. “For all we may know, he might be a
criminal—armed. He looks like a tough customer.”
“Face is sort of familiar too,” Dan said thoughtfully. “Where have I seen
him before?”
“Nowhere that I recall.”
“I’ve seen him some place,” Dan insisted, “or at least he’s someone that
reminds me of—I got it!”
“You’ve got what?” Brad demanded.
“I know where we saw that fellow!”
“We?”
“Sure! Don’t you recall that night of the rain storm—on our way to the
church?”
“The stranger who asked us what was going on there!”
“That’s the guy!”
Brad glanced quickly toward the window. The man however, had stepped back
beyond view.
“He reminds me a little of that fellow, Dan,” the Den Chief said
thoughtfully. “All the same, I wouldn’t say it’s the same person.”
“Well, they look alike,” Dan insisted. “I didn’t care much for the
fellow’s appearance when we met him in the rain.”
“Coming boys?” called Mr. Hatfield.
Dismissing the stranger from their minds, Brad and Dan hastened to catch
up with the other Cubs.
As they hiked toward the main road, Mr. Hatfield mentioned again that he
would call the contractor as soon as he arrived at home.
“I want to tell him that we picked up the roofing discs,” he said. “I’m
sure it’s all right, but we’ll double check. Then I’ll tell him about
that tramp in the house.”
“He could do considerable damage,” Red remarked. “Why, he might even
start a fire that would destroy the house.”
“Say! We haven’t forgotten about exploring the haunted house, have we?”
Chips suddenly demanded.
From the main road a weed-choked, narrow lane led toward the unpainted
house which stood on a curving rise of land. Shutters hung at rakish
angles and the place had every appearance of being deserted.
“Do we have time?” Mr. Hatfield asked, looking at his watch.
“Oh, it won’t take more than a minute!” Chips insisted.
“Sometimes your minutes are pretty long, Chips,” the Cub leader laughed.
The other boys also were eager to inspect the old house, so finally Mr.
Hatfield consented.
“This would be a spooky place at night,” Midge declared as they started
up the lane. “I’d hate to live so near the marsh. Imagine building new
houses out here.”
“Land is cheap in this area,” Mr. Hatfield explained. “Then, Webster City
is growing to the south. In a few years, this section may be built up
solidly.”
The land near the old house was ragged with frosted stubble growth. Some
distance away ran a tiny creek, screened by reeds and rushes.
“Must be good hunting and fishing around here,” Brad remarked.
Walking over broken, uneven ground the Cubs approached the dilapidated
house. Its windows, streaked with dirt from the recent rain, seem to
stare at them.
“Wonder how long this place has been deserted?” Dan speculated.
“Not long, that’s certain,” replied Mr. Hatfield, glancing about the
untidy yard. “In fact, I wonder—”
“Oh, look at the old fashioned iron kettle!” Chips broke in without
giving the Cub leader an opportunity to complete his remark. “And the old
well that turns on a crank.”
“It’s not the well that turns on a crank, bright boy!” Red laughed.
“Well, you know what I mean,” Chips growled. “That’s how the bucket is
lifted. Let’s have a drink.”
“Better not,” advised Mr. Hatfield. “This water may be safe enough, but
we have no way of being sure.”
The Cubs raised and lowered the well bucket several times, but did not
drink. Dan went over to look at the big iron kettle which in days past
evidently had been used for the boiling of apple sauce or maple sirup.
To his surprise, he noted that the ashes beneath the blackened container
were faintly warm.
“Say, maybe this place isn’t deserted after all!” he exclaimed in alarm.
“Someone’s been using this kettle recently.”
Babe Bunning, unmindful of Dan’s discovery, had pulled a box to a
position beneath the kitchen window.
Flattening his nose against the pane, he peered inside.
“And someone’s been using this house!” the boy entoned. “In fact, she’s
right here NOW!”