They had expected to see some evidences of farming, some indications of laborers in the fields beyond, but on arriving at the structure, a typical old farmhouse, everything wore a mournful and deserted air, as though all human activity and endeavor had long ago departed, leaving the building to crumble and decay.
“It seems that we’ve had all our pleasure for nothing,” grumbled Peur Jamais. “Nobody can be living in this old shack. But as a deserted house is anybody’s home, I’m going in.”
“I’ll share the danger with you,” laughed George.
The door stood invitingly ajar, and one vigorous push sent it creaking back on a pair of rusty hinges.
All the dreary and forlorn appearance which marked the exterior of the ancient farmhouse was to be met with in the interior. Dust lay thick on the floors, and a few pieces of broken-down furniture added their quota to the depressing atmosphere.
“This place is enough to give a fellow the creeps!” declared Bobby. “Just imagine how nice it would be strolling around here on a stormy midnight, with lightning the only illumination. Hello!—goodness gracious!”
A very unexpected interruption had caused Peur Jamais to utter the exclamation.
Quick footsteps had sounded. And, as both boys, a little startled, but more surprised, hastily glanced at an open doorway leading to another room, they saw a blue-bloused figure suddenly appear.
It was the peasant for whom they had been seeking.