“No, no, I’ll go with you,” replied Charlie so hurriedly that Bill burst out laughing.
“Come on, then, big boy.” Charlie’s mournful face made him feel ashamed of his mirth. “I don’t like this big lonely house any more than you do, but we’ll go down into the cellar just the same, although I haven’t the slightest doubt but that your father left this place hours ago.”
An inspection of the cellars and the two upper stories proved conclusively to Bill that except for themselves, there was nobody in the house. However, they found food and plenty of it in the storage rooms. A whole closet full of canned goods, eggs, bread and a couple of hams and four or five slabs of bacon.
“Well, old man, let’s have a shower,” suggested Bill, “and then I’ll rustle some breakfast.”
Charlie smiled and turned on a tap at the kitchen sink. A faint trickle came from the faucet. “You’ll get no shower, or bath while you’re in this house,” he announced. “The water comes from a well and there’s something wrong with the pump. Dad says the water supply is likely to give out any time.”
Bill made a grimace. “How do you take baths then?”
“When I was here before we went down to the cove—but never until after dark.”
“Gee whiz! A swim is just what I need. I tell you what, Charlie! We’ll have something to eat, take a more careful look for any message your father may have left and then we’ll romp down to that cove of yours.”
“Okay by me, Bill. Let’s get the grub. I could eat a horse!”
“When couldn’t you?” Bill snorted as they started after the food.