“Hello, there is George. Where are you, Grant?” called John, striving to speak boldly, though in spite of his efforts his voice trembled as he spoke.
Instead of a response from their companion a faint sound of an auto horn was heard in the old building. It was mournful beyond the power of either boy to describe. Instead of the sharp, short “honk,” it was prolonged and weird.
“This is too much for me,” said Fred sharply. “I have seen all I want to see. The other fellows aren’t here and I’m not going into this old house any further unless I can see my way.”
“What’s that? What’s that?” whispered John excitedly.
As he spoke the sound of some one running around the corner of the house was heard by both boys. In a moment John and Fred were outside the old building and as they became aware that the fugitives were George and Grant they lost no time in following them.
In the distance Uncle Sim could be seen climbing into the automobile. It was marvelous too what excellent time all four boys were making. Swiftly as George and Grant were running they were soon overtaken by their companions and together all four arrived at the place in the road where their automobile had been left.
At that moment there came a sound from the old Meeker House very like a wild burst of laughter. This was repeated and the terror of Uncle Sim became still more pronounced.
“There goes that auto horn again,” said George, as he grasped the wheel and looked behind to see if his friends were ready to start. “Uncle Sim,” called George just before he started, “I wish you would see if that back tire on the left is all right. We don’t want to start out on a flat tire.”
“Yas, suh. Yas, suh,” answered Uncle Sim quickly, as he obediently climbed out of the car and inspected the tire. “It’s all right, suh,” he repeated. “It’s all right.”
In his eagerness to be gone George at once started, unaware that the aged negro had not yet returned to his seat.