"Why not? We may find some valuable evidence that will put us on the track of Cora's auto. We may even find some hermit living in the house who can put us on the right road. Let's try the barn first, though, as it was from there the men came."

The girls would not go in, but Walter and Jack did, leaving Paul to stay with his sister and her friends.

"Just keep your eyes open, Paul," suggested Jack. "Those fellows may come back while Wally and I are inside."

"Trust me," observed Hazel's brother.

But Jack and Walter found little to repay them for their inspection of the barn. It was a dilapidated building, almost tumbling down in fact, and contained nothing save some wisps of hay and straw. In one corner, though, was a pile of old feed bags, arranged as a rude bed.

"Tramps been sleeping here," observed Walter. "Maybe those two men."

"Maybe," agreed Jack.

But that was all they could gather, and they came out.

"Now for the house," suggested Walter.

"There's some sort of lane over there, leading to the cow shed," said Cora. "Suppose you look in that building."

"Might as well," agreed Jack. And it was in approaching the smaller farm building through the gra.s.s-grown lane that they made a discovery.

"There's been an auto in here!" cried Paul, as he saw some depressions in the ground. "An auto has been driven in here and out again. I can see two sets of wheel marks plainly."

"Did one tire have a vulcanized patch on?" Cora asked eagerly. "Mine had."

"The marks aren't plain enough to decide that," said Paul. "If there were dust or dirt here I could tell, but gra.s.s and weeds don't take a good enough impression. The auto was put in the shed, evidently."

That proved to be a good guess, for the marks of the big-tired wheels went up to the shed, which was roomy enough for a car.

"Yes, one's been in here!" cried Jack, as he swung open the door. "See the tire marks on the boards."

"Was it mine?" asked Cora, eagerly. But again the impression left was too faint to show the vulcanized patch.

"Maybe some autoists, caught out in a storm, put in here," suggested Walter. "We mustn't build up too hopeful a theory on a slender basis of fact."

Traces of the automobile wheels were lost a short distance down the lane, and none appeared in the road which ran in front of the house-near which the highway did not seem to be much traveled.

"And now for the house itself," said Jack. "Come on, boys!"

"And girls, too!" exclaimed Cora. "We're not going to be left outside."

They entered the old farmhouse, calling aloud to ascertain if in some distant room there might not be an occupant. But their voices were answered only by echoes, with which their footsteps mingled.

The house was typical of many another deserted farm residence, of which there are many throughout New England.

Windows were void of gla.s.s, doors hung uncertainly on one hinge, moldy wall-paper drooped down from the ceiling like unlovely Spanish moss, and in many of the rooms the dampness and rain had loosened the plaster which had fallen.

There were some old boxes, a broken chair or two, and a moldy horsehair settee that, in bygone days, must have graced the closed-up parlor, opened only for marriages or deaths. Or, perchance, on its glossy and slippery surface, lovers had sat long ago.

"Ugh!" exclaimed Cora, with a little shudder. "Come on out. It gives me the creeps in here."

"Yes, I guess there's nothing to gain by staying," Jack remarked.

"n.o.body home, and there's no use wasting time."

"I wish we were home," said Belle.

"And I. At least, back in camp," added her sister.

As they went from the house they saw out in the road a man driving a horse attached to a farm wagon.

"Oh, there's something human at last!" cried Cora. "Wait, please, we want to ask you something!" she called impulsively.

But the man had already stopped of his own accord, and a look of surprise came over his face as he saw the party of young folks come out of the abandoned house.

"Can you tell us the way to Mountain View?" asked Jack.

"Yes, I'm going that way myself," the man answered. "At least within a mile of it. Want to ride?"

"Oh, do we!" exclaimed Bess with such a sigh of relief that the others laughed.

"Pile in," invited the farmer. "You aren't thinking of buying the old Mellish place; are you?"

"Is that what this is called?" asked Walter.

"Yes. Zeb Mellish used to own it, but he went crazy and hung himself and n.o.body's lived here since; 'ceptin' maybe tramps."

"Yes, we saw two run away from the barn as we came up," stated Jack.

"Humph!" commented the farmer. "I'll have to speak to the constable about 'em. Too many of us have been losin' chickens lately. I suspected it was tramps. Which way'd they go?"

The boys told; also narrating the details of their little picnic and of their becoming lost.

"Well, that ain't surprisin', considerin' how th' cow paths in the woods twist to and fro," commented the farmer, who gave his name as Anthony Wale. "So you're from one of the bungalows in the Mountain View property; eh?"

"Yes, Camp Surprise," said Cora.

The man seemed to start, and looked sharply at Cora.

"Camp Surprise; eh!" he exclaimed.

"Know anything about it?" asked Walter. "We have been expecting to be surprised, but haven't been, so far."

"I know they tell queer stories about it," said Mr. Ware, "but that's all I do know. Maybe the surprise party hasn't started yet."

"Well, if it's bound to happen, I wish it would get over and done with,"

said Cora. "It's awfully good of you to give us a lift this way."

"Glad to do it," said Mr. Ware. "There's room on the seat with me for two of you gals-at least the thinnest ones-not meanin' anything against you," and he looked at Bess, half smiling.