The youngster was tired out now, and wanted “home and mother,” so Tom spoke a soothing word or two and they commenced to retrace their footsteps. He noted now that the storm was soon to break, and Jackie was too tired to hurry, so he gathered the little fellow into his strong arms, and made fast time for home.
By the time they had reached the apple tree it was quite dark. Large drops of rain, the roar of thunder, and the glare of lightning told Tom that he was none too soon. He ran through the unkempt garden, and was quickly at the door. A sinister looking place it was even in daylight, and now revealed by an occasional lightning flash, the house seemed but a wreck of former stateliness. Not a light was visible within, and to Tom's loud and hurried rappings on the door, there was no response.
A flash of lightning however, showed Tom that the door was unlatched, and with the rain now descending in torrents, he hesitated no longer, but stepped within. There was a rush of wind, a rattle of shutters, a deafening peal of thunder as if close at hand, and with a crash the great door suddenly closed.
It did not take Tom long to determine that he and his little charge were alone in a deserted mansion.
“Is this your home, Jackie?” inquired Tom.
The little fellow whom Tom had placed upon the floor was thoroughly terrified, and could only grasp his answer.
“It is the haunted house, let me go home.”
“Nonsense, Jackie, don't be afraid, but where is your home?”
Meantime Tom had turned about and was searching for the handle of the great door. There was none. It had been broken off, and this means of egress was unavailable.
“Let's see if we can find a window,” suggested Tom, but Jackie clung closer to his rescuer and began to cry wildly.