“I read once about a man who fell down a canyon and was never seen again,” contributed Artie, helpfully.
“There isn’t any canyon for Fred to fall down,” declared Jess, with some scorn. “I think we ought to go over and get Mr. Williamson, though; perhaps he could find Fred.”
“But if we go outdoors, that ghost—or whatever it is—will grab us,” said Margy, fearfully.
It was what they were all thinking, and no one wanted to be the first to volunteer to go over to the Larue house and summon aid.
Ward looked at Artie. They did not think of themselves as brave, but it really required the strongest kind of courage for them to make the suggestion that Ward presently offered.
“We’ll go out and look all over the garden, Artie and I,” he said. “There’s no use in scaring Mrs. Williamson; we may find Fred and then everything will be all right.”
“I can come, too, and hold a lantern for you,” offered Polly, bravely. “I’d like to do it.”
“You needn’t come. Girls shouldn’t—shouldn’t—expose themselves to danger,” said Ward, feeling remarkably like a policeman—or as he thought a policeman must feel. “But I’d like a lantern. Where is there one, Margy?”
“Down cellar,” said Margy, rolling her eyes.
“I’m afraid to go down cellar,” announced Jess, flatly. “Goodness only knows what’s down there. It’s as dark as pitch.”