CHAPTER XII WARNINGS
“Sam has quit on us!” announced Tommy Beals, as he joined Ned Blake andDick Somers at the latter’s house on Monday morning.
“You mean he’d like to quit,” laughed Ned. “I got down to the town hallbright and early this morning and paid that lease in full, right up tothe end of September. I met Sam as I was coming out and showed him thereceipt. He gave me one scared look and shambled off toward home withouta word. Has anything new happened, Fatty?”
“Well, it’s darned queer,” began Beals, taking off his cap and runninghis fingers through his stubby hair. “Sam came around to see meyesterday morning before I was out of bed. Usually he won’t move onSunday, except to go to church, but yesterday was different. He hungaround till I finished breakfast and then coaxed me out to the barn,where he told me about the wildest yarn I ever listened to.”
“Something he’d dreamed the night before, I suppose,” scoffed Dick.
“Maybe he dreamed some of it, and probably he drew pretty heavily on hisimagination for the details,” agreed Tommy, “but _something_ must havehappened Saturday night, and whatever it was, it scared him foolish!”
“Do you mean after he got home Saturday night?” inquired Ned. “Youremember we took him right to his gate that night.”
Beals nodded. “You know Sam lives alone in that shack of his and sleepsin a little room off the kitchen. He says that soon after he got intobed Saturday night he heard a queer noise. He sat up in bed to listenand there at the window he saw something that he insists was the face ofEli Coleson. Sam knew Eli well enough, and he swears he saw the old manwith his white beard—copper stains and all.”
“What happened then?” asked Dick.
“According to Sam’s story, old Eli came right through the wall andstruck at him with a pickax; but my own idea is, that if Sam thought hesaw something white at the window, he was down deep under the bed coversabout one second later. Anyhow, he’s so scared you couldn’t get him togo near the Coleson house again for a million dollars—and that’s_that_!”
“Let’s take a walk down to Sam’s shack. I’d like to see what the placelooks like by daylight,” suggested Ned.
“Good idea. Maybe we can find the place where old Eli went through theside of the house,” laughed Dick.
A short walk brought the three boys to Sam’s house, about which theyprowled, peering in at the closed windows and examining the littlegarden where the negro cultivated a few vegetables and flowers. Therewas no evidence of a forced entrance into the house, but in the softearth of a flower bed, just below the bedroom window, was the distinctimprint of a rubber-soled shoe.
“Does Sam ever wear that kind of shoe?” asked Ned as he pulled aside thefoliage for a better view of the footprint.
“I don’t believe he owns a pair of rubber-soled shoes, and anyhow, hisfoot is two or three sizes bigger than this print,” replied Beals.
“Somebody else has been here, that’s sure,” declared Dick. “They’retaking a lot of trouble to frighten a poor inoffensive darky half todeath!” he continued angrily. “A pretty cheap joke, I call it!”
“Maybe it’s not altogether a joke,” suggested Ned. “I mean there may besomething else than a joke behind all this. Nobody ever bothered Sambefore, but about as soon as it becomes known that he has a lease on theColeson house there comes that letter, then that light out at the houseand now this funny business here. All these happenings look like thework of the same hand. What’s the answer?”
“Somebody is trying to scare Sam into quitting his lease,” growled Dick.“It’s lucky for us that we blocked that game!”
“But who can it be, and why this sudden interest in the place just as weget started there?” complained Tommy Beals.
“Perhaps the answer might be found out at the Coleson house,” suggestedNed. “Are you two fellows game to go out there with me and scout arounda bit?”
“How can we get out there?” asked Dick. “Dave’s gone away somewhere withthe flivver and won’t be back till tonight.”
“Let’s take the Cleveland bus and get ’em to drop us at Cedar Hollow.It’s only a couple of miles through the woods from there,” urged Ned.
This plan was agreed upon, and shortly afterwards the three scouts werethreading the thick undergrowth between Cedar Hollow and the lake.
“Here’s luck!” cried Dick, as they emerged from a tangle of underbrushinto what had evidently once been a wood-road. “This old track seems tobe heading about in the right direction. Let’s follow it.”
“Somebody else has been doing the same thing,” observed Ned, pointing toseveral broken twigs and torn leaves on the thick bushes lining theroad. “There’s been a car, or maybe a light truck through here quiterecently,” he continued, after a closer examination of the ground.
“Probably somebody has got a camp over on the lake-shore,” guessedBeals.
For half an hour the boys followed the grass-grown track, notingfrequent evidence of its use by some vehicle, but as the country grewmore open, these marks became fewer and finally ceased altogether whenthey reached the hard stony ground bordering the lake. The old roadended in what had once been a pasture, barely a hundred yards from theColeson house, and the boys halted at the edge of the clearing toreconnoitre.
“We can’t be sure whether the car that came through this old road keptstraight ahead to the house or swung into the traveled road outside thegate,” commented Dick, who was searching the hard-baked ground for apossible wheel mark.
“Unless the ground happened to be wet, a car or even a loaded truckwouldn’t leave a mark on this hardpan,” agreed Ned. “Let’s see if we canfind any tracks on that stretch of sand between the house and the lake.”
Approaching the rear of the building, the boys scanned every foot of thesandy area which ended at the water’s edge. Not a single clue of anykind rewarded their search.
“There’s the range pole that helped to locate the sunken end of the minewhen they were dredging it,” remarked Dick, and picking up a stone hethrew it accurately at a long stake which stood at the water’s edge.“You remember, Ned, how the big dredge used to get itself into line withthat stake and a white mark on the chimney of the house and then dig upthe copper ore in bucketfuls,” and Dick hit the stake squarely withanother stone.
“It’s funny how solid that stake is in the ground,” observed Ned as henoted the slight effect of Dick’s bombardment. “You’d think after lastwinter’s storms it would have loosened up or been knocked out entirely,”and Ned walked down for a closer look at the old range mark.
Dick and Tommy followed at a leisurely pace, which quickened at Ned’sexclamation of surprise. As they reached his side they saw the cause ofhis astonishment. The tall stake had been reset in the earth and itsface, as seen from the lake side, bore a recently applied coat of whitepaint. For a moment they stared in wonder; then, as if in obedience to acommon impulse, their eyes turned toward the house. Upon its broadchimney was a newly painted mark of gleaming white.
“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” cried Dick. “Now what does _this_ mean? Arethey going to start dredging again?”
“Suppose they do? It won’t bother us, will it?” demanded Beals.
“Maybe not, and yet I can’t help suspecting that whoever put up thesenew range marks may be back of the attempt to scare Sam away from thisplace,” said Ned, thoughtfully. “I can’t imagine what their reason canbe, but that’s up to us to discover—if we can. Come on; let’s have alook around at the front of the house.”
Everywhere between the gate and the building were tire tracks left fromthe autos that had parked there Saturday night, but it was quickly seenthat nothing could be gained by examination of these confusedimpressions. As they reached the porch, Ned, who was in advance, stoppedin his tracks and pointed to the front door. In the oak panel a nail hadbeen driven and from it fluttered a scrap of paper.
“FROM THE OAK PANEL FLUTTERED
A SCRAP OF PAPER”]
Mounting the steps, Ned tore the paper from its fastening and spread itwide. Upon it was scrawled these words:
“I don’t want company here.
“E. C.”
“Are you going inside, Ned?” asked Tommy in a tone that was not muchabove a whisper.
“Sure! Why not?” replied Ned, squaring his shoulders. “We’ve got a legalright to this place!” and drawing the key from his pocket, he unlockedthe ponderous door and flung it open.
Not a sound disturbed the cool darkness of the interior, and waitinguntil their eyes had become accustomed to the gloom, the boys enteredcautiously, peering about with uneasy glances. Everything appeared to beexactly as they had left it Saturday night. The black cats glaredunwinkingly with their white and yellow eyes, and the painted balloonskulls grinned in their corners. In spite of the fact that this ghostlyatmosphere was of their own making, the boys were glad to regain theouter sunlight and lock the door behind them.
“Whoever is up to these pranks has apparently confined himself tooutside stuff—thus far,” was Ned’s comment as he stared again at thecrumpled paper still in his hand.
“What do you make of it? Is it a warning or just an attempt to scareus?” asked Tommy Beals.
“Either—or both, I’d say,” interposed Dick. “Anyhow, it’s very evidentthat we’re being urged to vacate. The question is, are we going toquit?”
“Let’s get the boys together and talk it over,” replied Ned. “Right nowwe’d best be making tracks to catch the next bus at Cedar Hollow.”