The sun was slanted down toward the west, indicating midafternoon of a bright summer’s day.
The path followed no straight line to its goal. So, after twisting and turning, dodging high weeds on both sides, holding some of them carefully back to prevent the swishing sounds which they might create, the seekers came close to the barn.
Before they realized where they were they broke out at the corner of a tumble-down structure with a loft, one which had been allowed to drift, with the years, into decay.
Lanky, in the lead, came to a halt, holding his hand up in quick signal.
Coming down through the weeds and tall grass of a lot between the farmhouse and this barn was the figure of a man, moving slowly, picking his way along the weed-grown path.
“Get back!” breathed Frank in a whisper, reaching for Lanky’s shoulder to draw him back. “Let’s see who it is and what he is doing.”
The five boys crouched in the rank growth, and, each trying to peer through the weeds, they waited for the man to come to the barn.
Seconds seemed like hours, but Frank, who, by going to the left side of the trail, had the point of vantage, soon saw the man get to the barnyard proper and move across toward the weather-beaten structure.
He signalled to the others that the man was in sight, and Lanky craned his head to get a good view. Frank’s attention was drawn from the man by the sharp intake of breath on the part of Lanky Wallace:
“That’s the man who was rowing that boat!” he exclaimed whisperingly to Frank.