“Maybe they will,” suggested Blake.
“Never! Not after we put on the loud pedal about the rattling of chains that we heard, and the groans and sighs, invisible hands on the back of your neck and all the stock-ghost stuff!” exclaimed Phil. “Bur-r-r-r! I can hear ’em scream now.”
“Well, let’s get busy and talk afterward,” suggested Jack. “I don’t believe anything will happen. Old Hanson imagined it all. There may be a stray tramp or so sleeping in here once in a while, or perhaps some of the Gypsy men.”
“Then it wouldn’t be safe for the girls to come,” said Blake.
“Don’t worry—they won’t come within a mile of the place!” exclaimed Phil. “But what are we going to do all night?”
“Play checkers and dominoes, taking turns at it,” came from Jack. “I brought both games along. Then we’ll divide the watches, and each one stand his share. That, with eating and talking, will make morning come fast enough.”
Now, that they were fully committed to the matter, the boys felt that it was not such a foolish piece of business after all.
“Old Hanson will be glad to know there isn’t a ghost here,” said Jack. “He’ll want to come back here in the winter I guess. We’ll lay the haunt for him if there is one.”
Night was coming on, so the boys lighted one of the two lanterns they had brought. They had taken up their quarters in what had evidently been one of the living rooms of the old structure in its Colonial days, for there was a big stone fireplace in the apartment.
“We’ll make believe we belong to the Camp Fire Girls, and have a blaze there,” said Phil, as he brought in some wood. “There, I’m a Wood Gatherer,” he added with a laugh, “you can be a Fire Starter, Blake and Jack will be Chief Cook and Bottle-washer.”