Mr. Merrimac kept the boys waiting. Repeatedly, Brad jabbed his finger on the doorbell.
“He’s in there,” Dan insisted. “I can hear him moving around.”
“Like as not he’s seen us from a window and is hiding out,” Brad returned in disgust. “Merrimac is playing hard to get.”
Annoyed because the elderly gentleman refused to come to the door, he punched the doorbell two or three times in rapid succession and then gave up.
“Makes me sick,” he complained. “Mr. Merrimac at least ought to see us. That’s only common courtesy.”
In leaving the premises, the boys walked around toward the rear of the house.
“Why, the kitchen window is wide open!” Dan observed in surprise.
Mr. Merrimac, they both knew, was no fresh air fiend. Furthermore, the weather was far too cold for one comfortably to keep a window wide open.
“That’s funny!” Brad said, stopping short. “S-a-y!”
As the two Cubs stared in utter amazement, a pair of legs protruded from the window.