CHAPTER 9 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!”