The moon already had risen and in its clear light the old apple trees and the poplars that lined the driveway appeared like aged sentinels, twisted and gnarled. Indeed, some of the objects assumed fantastic forms and as the boys advanced, a silence not unlike that which had rested upon them in their former visits now fell over the party.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” spoke up Fred in a loud whisper; “I’m going with George around to the kitchen this trip.”
“I haven’t invited you,” replied George promptly.
“It doesn’t make any difference whether you have or not, I’m going just the same,” said Fred.
“Then I shall have to put up with it,” responded George in mock resignation. “All I can say to the rest of you is that whatever you do don’t run. Let’s find out what this thing means this time. Do you agree?”
“Yes, we agree,” replied his friends.
“Good,” responded George. “Now don’t forget.”
The boys at once separated, George and Fred moving around to the rear of the house while John and Grant approached the front door, which already was a familiar sight.
Without waiting for their companions to enter they at once pushed open the door, which creaked on its rusty hinges, producing sounds not unlike the cry of a child in distress.
Inside the room there again was the sound of many rushing wings. Indeed, for a moment, to the boys, who were startled in spite of their determination to be calm, the room seemed to be filled with flying creatures. Weird sounds also were heard and low spoken cries that were not unlike the creaking of the hinges of the old door.