“Do you think it’s safe to start a fire in that crazy old chimney?” asked Jack, as Blake piled the wood up on two bricks to make a draft under it. Then he set a match to the fagots.
“Oh, I guess it’s safe enough,” was the answer. “I remember Old Hanson had a fire here years ago.”
“Yes, but if a spark sets fire to the old shebang it’ll go like tinder,” declared Jack.
“That’ll be the last of the ghost, at all events,” was Blake’s reply. “Now stop being fussy, and let’s enjoy ourselves. Where are the rest of the sandwiches?”
“If we eat ’em all up now there won’t be any for the middle of the night,” warned Phil.
“Who cares. You’ve got to eat when you’re hungry. Pass ’em over!”
The boys had dressed warmly, and in old clothes, so they did not mind sitting around on the broken boxes that did duty for chairs. Another box made a table for the checker-board and the dominoes, and they took turns playing.
It was chilly and draughty in the old structure, but the fire made it more cheerful than otherwise it would have been, and the boys really began rather to enjoy their odd adventure.
“But if only the ghost would walk!” exclaimed Phil about nine o’clock.
“Hark! What’s that?” exclaimed Blake in a whisper.