Ted told Buck the arrangements and his companion was enthusiastic. “We’ll get a good insight on how to run a big camp,” he declared. “Of course, in some respects, it won’t be as much fun as camping alone, because when you are with one or two fellows you can do pretty much as you please, but we’ll try our hand at something new. I’m all for it.”
“I knew you would be, and I told Mr. Calvert so. What I’ll do is this: I’ll drive up there in the Rattletrap and look over the spot, to get a fair idea of the place. Then you and I will figure out just where we want the tents to go and how we’ll want things arranged.”
That night the two boys told the news at their respective homes and the plans for the rest of the summer were approved. Buck was the only son of his parents and they were very proud of their stalwart son. Between the two families there existed a warm friendship which was of years standing. And although Buck went to Ted’s house presumably to see Ted, it was no secret that he hoped on each visit to see Ted’s sister, Dorothy.
On the following Saturday both boys terminated their work at the mill yard and that afternoon Ted went to the old barn back of his house and took out his battered old car, which he capped with a fitting name when he termed it the Rattletrap. It was of an ancient vintage and rattled before each start and halt with singular energy and application. But it always went and it had more than once taken the two boys to school and other events, keeping to date a record for performance of which any car might well be proud.
In this old wreck of a car Ted left Ridgefield and headed out for the Black Horse Pike, one of the oldest roads in the State. He followed this for the forty miles which Mr. Calvert had told him of, and reached the small town of Montvery. Traversing this same road he passed through the village and came to a grass-grown old road that led away toward the encircling forest. Judging this to be the road in question, Ted followed it, and after passing about a half mile of fields, the road dipped into thick woods. As soon as he left the open grounds the gloom seemed to wall him in and the woods were cool.
A farmer was approaching and Ted brought the Rattletrap to a stop, hailing the man. “Am I anywhere near the camp of the Black Riders?”
“Keep going for another half mile,” was the answer. “Then you’ll get to the end of the road and you’ll have to hike down the path into the gully.” He rested his foot on the runningboard of the shaking car. “Don’t many people come up to see the camp any more,” he confided.
“How is that?” Ted asked.
“Oh, people get tired of lookin’ at nothing but an open space. If it was a building or something else it would be different. You going to take a look at it?”
“Yes,” Ted nodded. “A bunch of fellows are going to camp there in a week or so.”