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."