“And see this, kids,” she exclaimed, running her finger over it. “No dust on the rounds. That shows it’s been used lately.”
“Aren’t we the smart ones? Abby, I love the way you never miss anything.” Kit leaned the ladder up against the wall and mounted it, with Sally close behind and the other girls at its base. “What if it shouldn’t be an owl—”
She stopped with her palm against the trapdoor. Raising it about an inch she flashed the light, and there was a great fluttering overhead.
“What did I tell you!” Sally cried excitedly. “Do it again, Kit. It can’t hurt you and the light blinds it.”
So the trapdoor was lifted again with the light of the flashlight turned on full, and Kit cautiously pulled herself up into the opening. It was tent-shaped and low, not more than four feet at its highest. But instead of being bare like the rest of the old house, there were certainly evidences that someone had been there. There was a tin can filled with fresh water, and a strip of rag carpet laid down on the floor. A box of fish hooks and neatly rolled lines lay on one side, and there was a small frying pan and a knife and fork. Rolled up in one corner was a pair of old overalls, and some books much the worse for wear lay beside them. Kit’s glance took in everything, and last of all, backed into a corner and blinking hard, was the ghost itself—a big white owl.
Sally pulled herself up too, and reached out after the books gently so as not to frighten the owl any more. With a couple in her hand, they lowered the door again, and joined the others.
“It’s an owl and a hermit’s nest,” Kit told them excitedly. “Open the books, Sally, is there any name inside?”
Sally read off the titles, “Treasure Island and David Copperfield! He’s got a nice collection, hasn’t he, whoever he is? There isn’t any name inside, though.”
“Well, there was certainly fresh water in that tin,” Kit said positively, “and that shows the haunted house is inhabited by something tangible, I mean something besides the owl. Let’s go to bed very calmly and sleep. I’m sure we’ve laid the ghost.”
Evidently they had, for the rest of the night was peaceful and safe except for the owl crying out lonesomely at intervals until about four o’clock, when the dawn came. Rolled in their blankets, the girls slept soundly until the sunlight threw broad golden beams into their quarters.