The motorcycles were accordingly hidden in a clump of bushes beside the road and the six boys went on toward the lane.
“We’ll separate here,” Frank decided. “Three of us will take one side of the lane and the rest will take the other side. Keep to the bushes as much as possible and when we get near the house lay low for a while and watch the place. When I whistle we can come out from under cover and go on up to the house.”
“That’s a good plan,” approved Tony. “Joe and Biff and I, we’ll go on the left side of the road.”
“Good. Chet and Phil and I will take the other side. Remember to keep out of sight of the house as much as possible.”
The boys entered the lane, then separated according to the agreement they had made. One group plunged into the weeds and undergrowth at the edge of the lane on one side while the others pushed into the bushes at the opposite side. In a few minutes each group was lost to view and only an occasional snapping and crackling of branches indicated their presence in the heavy undergrowth that flanked the lane.
Frank advanced cautiously. The brushwood was much deeper than he had anticipated and they made slow progress, for he was desirous of creeping up on the house with as little noise as possible. The undergrowth was thick and hampered their movements. They made their way forward, step by step, keeping well in from the lane, and after about ten minutes Frank raised his hand as a warning to the others.
Through the dense thickets he had caught a glimpse of the house.
They went on cautiously until they reached the edge of the bushes and there they crouched behind the screen of leaves, peeping out at the gloomy old stone building in the clearing.
But at the first glance, an expression of surprise crossed Frank’s face.
The Polucca house was evidently occupied!