“This would be a spooky place at night,” Midge declared as they started up the lane. “I’d hate to live so near the marsh. Imagine building new houses out here.”
“Land is cheap in this area,” Mr. Hatfield explained. “Then, Webster City is growing to the south. In a few years, this section may be built up solidly.”
The land near the old house was ragged with frosted stubble growth. Some distance away ran a tiny creek, screened by reeds and rushes.
“Must be good hunting and fishing around here,” Brad remarked.
Walking over broken, uneven ground the Cubs approached the dilapidated house. Its windows, streaked with dirt from the recent rain, seem to stare at them.
“Wonder how long this place has been deserted?” Dan speculated.
“Not long, that’s certain,” replied Mr. Hatfield, glancing about the untidy yard. “In fact, I wonder—”
“Oh, look at the old fashioned iron kettle!” Chips broke in without giving the Cub leader an opportunity to complete his remark. “And the old well that turns on a crank.”
“It’s not the well that turns on a crank, bright boy!” Red laughed.
“Well, you know what I mean,” Chips growled. “That’s how the bucket is lifted. Let’s have a drink.”