Tim was at the dark window, peering out. “They just knocked here. I can’t see them, but they just tapped on the glass while I was reading. Almost scared——There!”
“They are at the back door,” Mac whooped, seizing his flashlight. “Come on, we’re the committee of welcome.”
“We’ll surely welcome them,” Tim agreed, as they made their way along the hall to the kitchen. Mac quickly turned the key in that door and drew back the knob. The door opened, but no one was there. The boys looked around the porch and flashed the light into every corner, but without success.
“I was sure that knocking came from the back door,” Tim exclaimed, when they failed to find anyone.
“So was I. Maybe they are trying to put something over on us.”
“Maybe,” admitted Tim, doubtfully. “But I should think they would have had enough of being out in the cold. Well, they aren’t here. We had better go in. Your flashlight is getting weak.”
“It’s about shot.” Mac locked the door, and they walked slowly down the hall toward the living room. It had just occurred to them that they were in what was known as a haunted lodge, and various thoughts were crowding into their minds. In the living room they looked uncertainly at each other.
“I doubt if the boys would play any such foolish stunts,” Tim remarked.
“I doubt it, too. Of course, it’s a good opportunity to have a little fun with——”
“Listen!” Tim cried, holding up his hand.