The Mystery Hunters at the Haunted Lodge

“Hey! Look here, fellows. A rifle shell!”
BY CAPWELL WYCKOFF
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY Akron, Ohio New York
Copyright, MCMXXXIV The Saalfield Publishing Company Printed in the United States of America
The High School at Cloverfield was quiet as the hands of the clock approached the three-o’clock hour. Then a gong pealed out and the building became a very beehive of sound. The thump of many feet and the hum of voices was heard. Healthy, wholesome young boys and girls poured out of the side doors and swarmed over the campus. Overcoats were pulled tighter as the nip of the keen Vermont air was encountered.
Two boys had come out together, and they paused to wait for two others. The boy with the clean-cut, manly face and the sparkling eyes was Barry Garrison, an outstanding boy in the Cloverfield High School. He had been the right halfback on the school team this year and had helped to lead it to a glorious record of no defeats and first place on the Conference list. He was an all-around athlete and stood well in his senior-year studies. Although Barry Garrison would have turned the idea aside with a good-natured laugh, he was the most popular boy in the high school.
His lifelong chum was Kent Marple. Kent’s father owned the local hotel, and the boy had enjoyed many advantages in life. He and Barry had been friends ever since they had been small boys. Young Marple was broader than Barry, with a heavy shock of black hair and a chin that was a trifle determined. He had played fullback on the football team during the past season.
These two boys did not seem to be in any hurry. Barry leaned against a maple tree and whistled softly, while Kent glanced from one side door of the school to the other.
“The twins must have been kept in,” Barry observed.
“Maybe they are clapping erasers for the teacher,” Kent grinned.
“If they are, they’ll clap ’em clean,” Barry laughed. “The Ford twins always finish what they start. Here they come now.”