“He’s off somewhere,” Dan commented. “Oh, well, no use waiting. I’ll come back here tomorrow after church.”
The boys parted, Chub returning to the widow’s home at the outskirts of Webster City.
Dan sauntered on alone, enjoying the nice air and thinking about the events of the day. He liked Chub and intended to look out for him. All the same, it struck him as odd that the boy never revealed anything about himself. Why had Mr. Hatfield requested that no questions be asked? Did he have special information about Chub that he was keeping to himself?
“I’m getting as curious as an old tabby cat,” Dan chided himself. “Guess I’ll have all I can do to look after my own affairs.”
His way took him past the old church. Dan had no intention of stopping. Nevertheless, he did glance toward the belfry, visible through the half-naked trees.
“Queer about that tapping bell,” he mused. “I know I heard it. Since it couldn’t have been the wind, a bird must have flown against the clapper.”
The explanation satisfied Dan for the moment, and he smiled in relief. How naive Chub had been to suggest a ghost! Not that the old decaying church didn’t have an eerie appearance with its dead vines and look of utter desolation.
Bushes had overgrown nearly all of the church walls. The mass of crimson and yellow leaves against stone and brick made a pretty splash of color, Dan thought. But Old Terry really should whack down the brush a bit, even with winter coming on.
Dan’s thoughts were roving, when suddenly his attention focused upon a tall, mis-shapen evergreen at the west side of the old building. He halted to stare.
The little tree was moving jerkily, as if alive.