THE BOYS ARE PUZZLED
“It’s a spooky old sort of a place all right,” remarked Blake.
“It sure is,” agreed Phil.
“And it’s going to be uncommon uncomfortable before morning,” declared
Jack.
“Want to back out?” asked Phil, pausing in the act of arranging some
bags which they had brought to stretch out on.
“Back out? Not on your life!” cried Jack. “We’d never hear the last of
it if the girls found it out.”
“They needn’t know,” suggested Blake. “Not that I’m anxious to quit, but
I thought perhaps——”
“Say, if those girls were smart enough to find Bear Pond and the Gypsy
camp they’d find out about us coming here and then backing out,”
declared Jack. “No, we’ve got to stick now, whether we want to or not.
Let’s make the best of it.”
The boys had brought their things into the old mill, the reputed mystery
of which they intended to solve. Though what that mystery was, beyond
Old Hanson having declared he had listened to strange noises of late,
was more than the boys could tell. The face Natalie thought she saw did
not particularly interest them, for, on talking it over, they had
decided that it might have been a pigeon, or a bat, flying about in the
old loft of the mill. And the creature might have passed close to the
broken window as Natalie looked up.
“But it will be something to say we’ve done,” remarked Jack, arranging
the supply of victuals they had brought, and setting down the lantern.
“We’ll dare the girls to spend a night here—after we get through.”
“Maybe they will,” suggested Blake.
“Never! Not after we put on the loud pedal about the rattling of chains
that we heard, and the groans and sighs, invisible hands on the back of
your neck and all the stock-ghost stuff!” exclaimed Phil. “Bur-r-r-r! I
can hear ’em scream now.”
“Well, let’s get busy and talk afterward,” suggested Jack. “I don’t
believe anything will happen. Old Hanson imagined it all. There may be a
stray tramp or so sleeping in here once in a while, or perhaps some of
the Gypsy men.”
“Then it wouldn’t be safe for the girls to come,” said Blake.
“Don’t worry—they won’t come within a mile of the place!” exclaimed
Phil. “But what are we going to do all night?”
“Play checkers and dominoes, taking turns at it,” came from Jack. “I
brought both games along. Then we’ll divide the watches, and each one
stand his share. That, with eating and talking, will make morning come
fast enough.”
Now, that they were fully committed to the matter, the boys felt that it
was not such a foolish piece of business after all.
“Old Hanson will be glad to know there isn’t a ghost here,” said Jack.
“He’ll want to come back here in the winter I guess. We’ll lay the haunt
for him if there is one.”
Night was coming on, so the boys lighted one of the two lanterns they
had brought. They had taken up their quarters in what had evidently been
one of the living rooms of the old structure in its Colonial days, for
there was a big stone fireplace in the apartment.
“We’ll make believe we belong to the Camp Fire Girls, and have a blaze
there,” said Phil, as he brought in some wood. “There, I’m a Wood
Gatherer,” he added with a laugh, “you can be a Fire Starter, Blake and
Jack will be Chief Cook and Bottle-washer.”
“Do you think it’s safe to start a fire in that crazy old chimney?”
asked Jack, as Blake piled the wood up on two bricks to make a draft
under it. Then he set a match to the fagots.
“Oh, I guess it’s safe enough,” was the answer. “I remember Old Hanson
had a fire here years ago.”
“Yes, but if a spark sets fire to the old shebang it’ll go like tinder,”
declared Jack.
“That’ll be the last of the ghost, at all events,” was Blake’s reply.
“Now stop being fussy, and let’s enjoy ourselves. Where are the rest of
the sandwiches?”
“If we eat ’em all up now there won’t be any for the middle of the
night,” warned Phil.
“Who cares. You’ve got to eat when you’re hungry. Pass ’em over!”
The boys had dressed warmly, and in old clothes, so they did not mind
sitting around on the broken boxes that did duty for chairs. Another box
made a table for the checker-board and the dominoes, and they took turns
playing.
It was chilly and draughty in the old structure, but the fire made it
more cheerful than otherwise it would have been, and the boys really
began rather to enjoy their odd adventure.
“But if only the ghost would walk!” exclaimed Phil about nine o’clock.
“Hark! What’s that?” exclaimed Blake in a whisper.
“The wind rattling some of the old windows,” answered Jack. “Go on—it’s
your move.”
“I’m going to move to bed,” yawned Phil. “You fellows can wake me up
when it’s my turn to watch.”
“Go ahead,” assented Jack, for he and Blake had to finish the deciding
game of checkers, and it was at an interesting stage just then.
It was harder to awaken Phil than they thought, when the two decided to
stretch out on the old bags about twelve o’clock. Nothing had disturbed
them, and as Phil, stretching and yawning, got up he remarked:
“Say, this isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be. What will one of
you fellows take to stand watch for me?”
“Go on! Do your duty!” exclaimed Blake.
He and Jack made themselves as comfortable as they could on the floor,
with the bags for mattresses; and they got close to the fire, for the
night seemed to get colder. There was plenty of wood, however.
Probably Phil tried not to go to sleep—he said afterward that it
couldn’t have been more than a minute that he dozed off, but the fact
was that it was getting daylight when he awoke again.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes in surprise, and, for a moment, hardly able
to remember where he was. Then he saw Jack stretching and yawning, and
Blake turning over.
“Oh, what a hard bed!” complained Jack. Then something seemed to recall
a matter to him, and he cried out: “Why didn’t you call me Phil, to
stand my second trick; eh?”
“Because—er—I,” stammered Phil.
“Say, you slept the rest of the night through after we woke you that
time!” cried Blake.
“Well—er—I guess I did. But so did you fellows!”
“But, you didn’t call us,” objected Jack. “How could we? Say, we’re hot
ghost-hunters, we are!”
“I don’t believe there is any such animal,” declared Blake. “Come on,
let’s finish up the sandwiches and get back to camp. The girls may have
been looking for us, and be worried when they find we’re not home.”
Jack was looking about with a puzzled expression.
“Say, fellows,” he began, “didn’t we have two lanterns with us?”
“We sure did,” answered Phil.
“Well, there’s only one here now, and all those sandwiches are gone.”
“Rats!” exclaimed Blake.
“Well, they are, I’m not joking,” protested Jack.
“Oh, I used the word rats in its real meaning—not as slang,” explained
Blake. “I meant that rats had carried off the sandwiches.”
“Well, they didn’t carry off a lantern,” declared Phil. “That’s sure.
And my knife is gone. I left it on the checker-board.”
“And my match-box!” cried Blake. “The one——”
“Never mind her name—we know who gave it to you!” mocked Jack. “But,
fellows, this is queer.”
The three chums looked at each other. Then Blake said:
“The ghost was here while we all slept last night. Fellows, as
ghost-layers we’re miserable failures, but I know one thing.”
“What?” demanded Phil.
“That it’s a pretty healthy ghost who can eat sandwiches, and who wants
a lantern, matches and a knife. Let’s have a look around.”