There was a drowsy hum of bees in the air. A crow flapped overhead, cawing discordantly. The brook, muddy and swollen by the rains, purled along on their left.
"Watch the wire," said Bascom. The Argus' captain was in the lead. He pointed out a rusted strand of barb wire half hidden by weeds. Ahead of them was an opening in the woods.
It might have been a pasture at one time, but it was overgrown with ironweed and sassafras shoots.
Matt said, "Isn't that a house? There." He pointed. "Straight down the valley. See? In among that clump of trees."
"Yes," Lynn said breathlessly. "We couldn't have seen any lights last night because of the foliage."
"Don't get too hopeful," said Matt.
They trooped eagerly across the pasture and climbed another rusted fence. When they were still fifty yards distant, it became apparent that the house was deserted.
It was a big frame farm house, Matt saw. The front door hung askew. Several panes of glass were gone from the windows, and the yard was overgrown with weeds.
Lynn's mouth drooped with disappointment. Then she squared her shoulders. "Maybe it's just vacant," she suggested hopefully.
Captain Bascom frowned.