“That man,” Ronnie told himself again and again as he trudged back to their office, “that man I saw this morning running from the boarded-up house is the person who slept in there last night.” And “that man” had looked an awful lot like Mr. Caldwell, even seen from a distance and hidden somewhat by the early morning shadows.
Ronnie groaned. He sure did hate the thought of the teasing he’d get when his father inspected the building and found nothing there.
Bill was waiting for him when he reached their office building. “’Bout time you got here,” he said.
“I’ve been here,” Ronnie retorted. “I went over to take another peek into the boarded-up building. But I wished I hadn’t.”
“How come?”
Ronnie told him. Bill groaned too. “I told my pa about it, too, and he said he was going to call your pa on the telephone. Somebody’s made a monkey out of us for sure!”
“Well,weknow somebody slept there last night,” Ronnie announced stoutly. “Some mighty strange things are going on around here, let me tell you.” He decided to break downand tell Bill about the peculiar light he’d seen the evening before, and about the man who looked like Mr. Caldwell who had turned and run when the boy had shouted his name.
Bill gave a long, loud whistle of amazement. “Looks like we’ve gottwothings to do this summer—save the village and solve this mystery, too.”
But within a few minutes they had forgotten the mysterious prowler. Armed with the pruning sheers and sickle that Bill had brought with him, they started clearing the overhanging branches from both sides of the dirt lane. A half hour later, when they were within sight of the main road, Mr. Caldwell’s station wagon turned off the highway and came toward them.
He stopped alongside the boys and poked his head out the window. “Hop in and I’ll drive you back in—that is, if you’re finished.”
Ronnie nodded and the two climbed into the front seat. “You’ve done a fine job of clearing the roadway,” Mr. Caldwell said. “You are going ahead with your tourist business, I take it.”
“Yes,” Ronnie answered, “how did you know about it?”
“Your father told me.” Mr. Caldwell swung off the dirt road onto the cobblestones. “Now, the question is—which building shall I occupy? Your father said I could have my choice.”
“How about one of the workers’ cottages?” Bill suggested. “We’re using one of them for our office, but there’s a real good one with a fireplace at the other end of the row.”
“Sounds like just what I’m looking for,” Caldwell agreed.
Ronnie and Bill helped Mr. Caldwell unload his suitcasesand cardboard cartons from the rear of the station wagon and carry them into the cottage. Then they sat on the floor with their backs against a wall and watched him unpack.
Just about that time, Mr. Rorth drove up in his pickup truck. In the back he had a cot and mattress, blankets and sheets, a table and a few chairs, as well as some cooking utensils.
“These should make you comfortable,” he told Mr. Caldwell.
Ronnie walked back to the truck beside his father. “Now,” said Mr. Rorth, “let’s take a look at the evidence of this mysterious guest we’re supposed to be harboring in the old office building!”
Ronnie looked up sheepishly at his father. “It’s not there any more, Dad,” he said.
“Oh? So the ghost picked up his bedding and walked away, eh?”
“But itwasthere this morning, Dad. Honest it was. Bill saw it too. He’ll tell you.”
Mr. Rorth stared at his son a moment, then laughed and climbed into the truck. Ronnie’s face was scarlet as he turned back to join Bill.
For the remainder of the afternoon the boys worked at cleaning up the gristmill and the general store. Phil joined them about three o’clock, but as usual he wasn’t much help.
Twice during the afternoon they took a breather to see how Mr. Caldwell was coming with his unpacking. On their final visit, Ronnie exclaimed, “Gosh, Mr. Caldwell, you’ve got this place looking just like home!”
“And that’s what it’s going to be for a couple of weeks. Who knows, I might just decide to stay on indefinitely!”
“Oh, but you couldn’t do that—not unless you want to be under water,” Ronnie explained.
Mr. Caldwell looked at Ronnie questioningly, not knowing whether to take the boy’s remark seriously or as some kind of joke. “Are you fooling?” he asked.
“Oh no. In a year or two, when they build the dams on the St. Lawrence Seaway, this’ll all be under water. Gramps is furious, but Dad says he can’t do anything about it.”
“What a pity. What a great pity!” Mr. Caldwell exclaimed. “I’m certainly glad I decided to come here when I did.”
Mr. Caldwell’s alarm clock showed four-thirty. Bill suggested that they start work cleaning up the main building where the glass had been manufactured and packed. “We’ll never get started showing people around at the rate we’re going,” he told Ronnie and Phil.
Ronnie, of course, didn’t need any convincing. He would work all night if it would step up their opening date. Phil tagged along reluctantly.
They managed to cart five or six loads of the larger debris from the building and dump it in the woods out of sight, and then Bill announced that it was probably time for him to get home. He had chores to do before supper, and so did Ronnie and Phil.
They walked back to the office together. Bill wanted to gather up his tools to take home. “I’ve got to besureto get these back,” he explained. “A couple of nights ago a saw and hammer and a couple of other tools disappeared from the barn, and Pa insists I took them and left them somewhere.”
“We haven’t been using any tools like that,” Ronnie said indignantly.
They walked down the cobbled road to where their paths separated. “You know,” Bill suggested, “we could work on the sign tonight and leave the cleaning up for the daytime. Think you could get away for a while after supper?”
“Sure,” said Ronnie. He turned to his brother. “Want to come too, Phil?”
Phil mumbled something about a television show.
When Ronnie got home, he pitched into his chores immediately. He chased the few remaining hens into the chicken house, filled their trough with water, and fastened the door shut. He stabled the horse and then watered and fed her. Then he went into the house to collect the garbage and trash to take to the dump for burning.
Returning from the dump, he caught sight of his father driving the tractor and pulling the mowers down the farm road from the fields. Ronnie cut through the triangle of alder bushes to meet him. “Say, Dad,” he asked, climbing up beside him, “could I go back down to the village after supper and work for a while with Bill? We’re going to make our sign to put out on the highway.”
“I don’t see why not. You pretty near ready to start your big business venture?”
“Just about, I guess.”
Mr. Rorth nodded his head in approval. “I was in town today and I happened to run into Steve Mercer. He’s president of the historical society. Told me that they’d written a letter to the Seaway saying their society’s violently opposed to any flooding of the village unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
Ronnie’s heart leaped. “Maybe that’ll help us get permission to build the dam across the top of the valley.”
“It might,” his father agreed. A smile tugged at his lips. “Think you can raise that kind of money?”
“No,” Ronnie said honestly. “But it’ll get the ball rolling, and that’s what counts, Grandpa says.”
“And of course he’s right,” Mr. Rorth agreed. “Heaven knows I want to see the village spared as much as you and Gramps. But I can’t let the whole farm go to pieces in the meantime. You’ve got to be practical about these things.”
When Ronnie reached the office at eight o’clock, Bill was waiting for him. Bill had brought a kerosene lantern and it was already burning when Ronnie entered the door. Outside, the late evening shadows were deepening among the trees, and the peepers were piping down in the marshes along the river.
“Pa gave me a piece of plywood for our sign,” Bill announced, “and I brought some paint and brushes.”
They sat down at their improvised desk and composed the words they would letter on the sign:
Original Buildings and Furnacesof One of America’s Renowned Glassworksfrom the Last CenturyIncluding a Haunted Building with a Strange HistoryComplete Tour: Adults—50¢Children—25¢
Original Buildings and Furnacesof One of America’s Renowned Glassworksfrom the Last CenturyIncluding a Haunted Building with a Strange HistoryComplete Tour: Adults—50¢Children—25¢
“That ought to get their curiosity roused up!” Bill exclaimed when they had finished. “Now let’s get it laid out on the plywood.”
The time passed quickly for the two. Outside, the night closed in among the old buildings and the silent trees.
“Now that looks right nice!” Bill said at last standing back to survey the sign. “Looks almost like a real sign painter made it. Tomorrow, first thing, we’ll get it up on the road.”
Ronnie glanced at his wrist watch. “I’d best be getting on home. Nothing much more we can do tonight anyway.”
They picked up their flashlights, and then Bill blew out the lantern. The two stepped out into the night. The beams from the flashlights cut a solid lane down the path as they made their way toward the cobblestone road. Bill was in the lead. Suddenly he stopped and pointed off into the trees. “Look!” he whispered.
It was the light again, the same light Ronnie had seen last night from his bedroom window. Now that it was closer, he could make out more of the detail.
At first glance it seemed like some strange, unearthly cloud resting motionless over the top of the building. But Ronnie was quick to discover that what he really saw was the light striking the undersurface of the thick canopy of foliage that overhung the roof, setting the leaves aglow.
Ronnie moved closer to his friend and whispered, “Sure looks spooky, doesn’t it? First off it does, anyway.”
“Yea,” Bill answered, “sure does. Somebody must be behind the building, pointing a flashlight up into the trees.”
Ronnie shook his head. “Whoever’s doing it isinsidethe building, poking around in the chimney. Otherwise you’d see the light in a circle.”
“Maybe you’re right. Let’s slip over and take a peek through the crack in the shutter.”
“I’m with you, boy!” Ronnie answered. “Let’s go!”