“Didn’t take much stock in it, did I?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“You bring that back and tell me about it again. I thought you were a fresh kid and a bit addled, but by Jove, you’ve got a head on your shoulders and it ain’t stuffed with excelsior above the ears, either.”
“I’ll do what you say,” said Johnny, “but first I’d like to run down another hunch if you don’t object.”
“No objections. Run down as many as you care to. Bring ’em all in. Mebby I can help you, and more’n likely you can help me.”
Johnny left the place with a jubilant heart. He had enough money now to buy Ben Zook a small ranch. He knew the very place, a half acre, ten miles from the city limits, a sloping bank with oak trees on it and a cabin at its edge, and a touch of green pasture land with a brook at the bottom. Wouldn’t Ben Zook revel in it? And wouldn’t his salvaged poultry thrive there?
He wanted to row right out and tell Ben about it at once. Had he been able to read the future he would most assuredly have done so, but since he could only see one step ahead, and had planned to revisit the marsh and have a look at that black shack at its edge, in the end he cashed the check for five hundred and deposited it in a savings account for safe keeping. After that he took a train for the marsh.
An hour later, with a feeling of dread that was not far from fear, and was closely connected with his startling and mysterious experiences on two other occasions, he found himself approaching the black shack.
Since this shack was built on the side of the marsh nearest to the lake, it was flanked by low, rolling sand-dunes. This made it easy for Johnny to approach the shack without being seen by anyone who might be inside.
After crawling to within fifty feet of it he lay down behind a low clump of willows, determined to watch the place for awhile. After an hour of patient watching, his patience deserted him. Gripping something firmly in his hand, he advanced boldly forward until he was within arm’s reach of the building.