“Yea, but what kind of a book?” Phil persisted. Ronnie retreated toward the door, but Phil followed him.
“Oh, an old book I found in the padlocked building,” Ronnie admitted finally as he opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.
“Say,” he heard Phil exclaim as the door closed on his words. “Something’s going on around here—”
Ronnie splashed through the puddles in the driveway and entered the orchard. The rain drummed down on his rubber hood. Little rivers drained from his shoulders. He held the book tight as he plunged down the soggy bluff and entered the trees at the bottom.
Down in the valley he breathed deep of the pungent odor of pine, released by the long rain. Off to the right, partially hidden by the ground fog that had been trapped beneath the heavy foliage when the cooler rain touched the warm earth, Ronnie saw the old bakery building. Its broken, crumbled walls and sections of rotting roof seemed unusually deserted and lonely in the faint light.
Ronnie shivered suddenly and continued down the narrow path. Wet branches snapped back against his raincoat and sprayed water into his face. He stopped a moment to shift the ledger higher up under his arm.
And then suddenly there was a movement in the bushes at the side of the path. Before the boy could turn, someone seized him from behind and, grasping his arms, pinned them behind his back. Ronnie felt the ledger slipping from his hold. It started to fall beneath his raincoat.
He struggled to free himself, but his assailant was strong. He tried, too, to twist his head about so he could see who it was. But his raincape blocked his vision on both sides.
“All right, kid!” A man’s voice growled close to the boy’s ear. “Let’s have it!”
“H—have w—what?” Ronnie gasped.