Both George and Grant laughed when John told them that he and Fred were going for a walk.
“You’ll walk in one direction,” called George, “but you’ll be running when you come back. I think I’ll take the car and in a half an hour I’ll come over after you. You’ll want to see some of your friends by that time and you will want to see them bad.”
“I don’t want to see them ‘bad,’” retorted John as he turned away. “They are ‘bad’ enough as it is. I want to see them badly.”
Together the two boys walked through the woods and across the lots and by a shorter route than the highway arrived within a half-hour in the yard of the house they were seeking.
“Come around to the kitchen,” said Fred. Almost unconsciously he had lowered his voice and although it was still daylight he was glancing nervously about him when he and John softly opened the rear door and stepped within the kitchen.
The boards of the floor were twisted and uneven. The floor was of pine and George had explained that his father had said that he believed the floor was as old as any part of the house. There were marks of the places where the women of another generation had scrubbed the floor. Doubtless it had been their pride to keep the pine boards clean, just as it is a source of pride to many of their sisters of a later day to be adorned with feathers of various gaudy colors.
Noiselessly the boys advanced and without a word having been spoken began to examine the floor where Fred had scattered the bran the preceding evening. No footprints were found, however, and it was speedily plain that if any one had entered the building since the boys had departed they had not done so by the kitchen door.
Convinced that they were alone in the house, the courage of both boys somewhat revived. Indeed there was something in the sunshine of the summer afternoon and in the not unmusical sounds of the winged grasshoppers in the adjacent orchard that was soothing to the excited boys.
They were about to pass out of the room when John abruptly stopped and whispered, “Look here, Fred. What’s that?” As he spoke he pointed to a small tube which plainly had been fastened recently to the wall. The tube was of tin, about an inch in diameter and extended almost to the ceiling. Through the wall a hole had been made and the boys peered eagerly at the wall in the adjacent room to see whether or not the tube was there also.
“That’s just how it is! That’s good, String!” exclaimed Fred excitedly. “That explains the sound of the voices we heard the other night.”