Saturday night found the youthful population of Truesdell on tiptoe with expectation. Everyone who had attended the first “haunted” dance was eager to learn what new thrill lay in store for them, and those who had not been present on the opening night were doubly anxious to make up for their unfortunate omission by taking an especially active part in this second festivity. A considerable number of older people joined the crowd, ostensibly as chaperones for their daughters, but actually with a secret desire to learn what it was all about. The boys were early on the scene, including Dave Wilbur, who had recovered sufficiently to do his part although his voice sounded not much unlike the drawling croak of a bullfrog.
“Whew!” gasped Tommy Beals, as he stood just inside the front door of the Coleson house and ran his handkerchief around inside his wilted collar. “I’ve taken in ninety-five admissions and answered a couple of hundred questions about ghosts, and the crowd is still coming!”
“I’m hoping we have enough eats and drinks for this mob,” remarked Wat Sanford, who, in Sam’s absence, was preparing the refreshments. “If Fatty wilts just taking tickets and answering questions, I pity him when he starts passing out ice cream.”
“I wish we had fixed up a few good ghost stunts for tonight,” said Charlie Rogers, as he stood beside Ned watching the couples pour in at the front door. “This crowd is all keyed up for a wild time and I’d hate to see ’em disappointed—as they will be if nothing happens.”
“What’s worrying me is the fear that too much may happen,” replied Ned, anxiously.
“Meaning what?” queried Rogers.
“Well,” resumed Ned, “you and Fatty got a pretty good-sized scare the night you were out here, and Dick and I saw enough to keep us wondering ever since.”
“Yes, I was scared all right,” admitted Rogers, “—just the two of us here alone, you know—but with all this gang here you don’t think that—” and Rogers paused for want of just the right words to express his doubt.
“I don’t know what to think,” was the sober reply. “The whole thing seems impossible—and yet it has happened. One thing I’m sure of: there isn’t going to be room much longer on these premises for us and for whoever or whatever else is trying to occupy them. As you say, Red, this crowd has been led to expect some weird stuff and yet it might easily be thrown into a panic, which would mean the end of things for us. You and Fatty and Dick and I have seen enough to make us certain that something more than child’s play is going on around here. What it is or what it will lead to, I can’t even guess, but I’ll admit I’m worried.”
“Me, too,” grumbled Dick Somers, who had joined the other two in time to hear Ned’s words. “Why, hang it! somebody might take a crazy notion to blow up the whole shebang—same as Eli Coleson blew up his old farm house when he wanted to build this one.”