“I feel like a pirate,” whispered Nancy, giggling.
Suddenly Ben, who was ahead of the others, stopped and put his fingers to his lips. He beckoned to them to follow him around to the side of the house.
“I heard something inside the house,” he said, in a low voice. “Wait here, girls, with Charlie while I take a look.”
He crept cautiously around to the front and presently they heard him open the door and walk boldly in.
“I’m going, too,” said Charlie, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, and the girls followed him single-file into a low-studded, dusty room, unfurnished except for one rickety chair, but behind that stood—Billie Campbell! And facing Billie in the dim light just inside the door stood Ben, surprise written as plainly upon his face as bravery, defiance, and apprehension were mingled upon hers.
The girls were too amazed to speak at first.
“Billie Campbell!” cried Nancy, at last. “Did two men frighten you and run away with your automobile?”
Billie nodded. Somehow it was very difficult to keep back her tears now that help had come; but she never had been a cry-baby even as a child and now she choked down her sobs with all her strength, for in the gathering dusk she had recognized the faces of her three childhood friends who had refused to remember her that day at school.
“Oh, but I’m glad to see you!” she exclaimed. “After the men went off I noticed that the front door was open and I came in a minute to see if it really looked as though it were lived in now-a-days as the man said. But it just looks deserted, and it’s dreadfully dusty except here in the corner and from here to the door,—just as though something had been dragged across the floor.”
The young girl had been talking excitedly, but now she stopped abruptly and with a friendly look and a gesture of intense relief she stretched her arms over her head, as though with the relaxation of her muscles she could also free herself from the sudden shock and dread that had bound her.