"What shall we do?" was the question of Warren and Ralph answered—
"I am going forward. I mean to search this plantation from end to end, if I am trespassing twenty times over."
So on the three went, and again and again did they pause while Ralph uttered his wild call, but no answer was heard.
They pushed on, their hearts full of excitement, until they emerged from the trees with almost startling suddenness. The plantation was nothing like so thick as they had thought—it was a mere belt of wood, surrounding a neglected lawn; and in the centre of this, encircled by a wall, stood the very last thing they would have expected to find there—a house.
A house; but so dreary, desolate looking. All the windows stared blank and empty, and were encrusted with dirt and grime. Not a trace of smoke curled up from the chimney-stack, not a sound of life was heard. It seemed empty, desolate, drear; and the masses of creeper, hanging down and swinging in the breath of the storm, only intensified the desolate picture it made.
The three lads, standing there with every nerve thrilled by a strange, inexplicable excitement, surveyed the place, and looked at each other in questioning silence, until Warren said softly—
"Well, I am blest! Who would have thought of finding a house here?"
"Where are you going, Ralph?" cried Charlton, for Ralph was moving forward; and he replied firmly—
"To that house. I mean to see if any one lives here."