"Gee whiz!" barked Lanky, his eyes opening unusually wide. "See the ugly things dangling there from every rafter, will you?"
"Is that the way bats sleep, hanging by their toes with their heads downward?" exclaimed Paul, intensely interested. "What strange things you often see when you haven't got a gun. I'll know now what they mean when they say a fellow has 'bats in his belfry'!"
"Let's have a peep-in at that old hotel," Lanky Wallace suggested. "That may have sheltered more millionaires—in their mind's eye—than ever any up-to-the-latest in New York City could claim."
"Second the motion," quickly added Paul.
"Lead me to it," Frank laughed, "for I was just going to put it up to both of you."
"Come on then," cried Lanky.
Led by the tall boy, the three of them were speedily inside the abandoned building, possibly once the pride of Gold Fork; but with now not a shadow of its former grandeur remaining in its skeleton walls, and the shaky stairs leading to unseen upper regions.
"Huh! a peach of a place this would be for us to camp out in," Lanky remarked, as they started to look things over.
"Wow! I hope you don't try it," Paul cried out. "I'm dead certain it's just swarming with rats!"