lake, once, and after looking all around he stepped down to that rotten old wharf and threw something into the water."
"Gee whiz!" Paul Jones burst forth, "was it the same man we saw before?"
"Yes, the one with the golf cap," MacLester said. "When he went inside he went upstairs and closed that window that has been open. He acted as if he was getting ready to go away."
CHAPTER III
THE SEARCH IN THE OLD HOUSE
Paul's adventure in the old house somehow seemed to give importance to his opinions on all matters pertaining to that subject. So when he suggested that the act of throwing something into the water by the tenant of the abandoned building was for the purpose of destroying evidence, all the boys agreed that quite likely such was the truth.
What evidence this person, be he Grandall or not, wished to destroy and why, was the subject of vast discussion. Since the coming of Slider among them, particularly, the Auto Boys found the mystery of the stolen twenty thousand dollars to possess for them a strong personal interest. They talked over and over again, and with the greatest relish, everything that had come within their notice in and around the bleak old structure down there on the Point.
Finally–it was during the Sunday evening supper of cold hard-boiled eggs, bread and butter, bananas, graham crackers and coffee–that finally, and at last, Phil Way proposed that a really serious visit be made to the clubhouse the following morning. Of any person encountered–Mr. Murky excepted, of course–permission to use the vise and other equipment in the automobile shed would be asked. This would be a reasonable pretext for going to the clubhouse grounds. And being on those premises, everyone should look carefully about for some clue to the stolen money's hiding place.
It was not easy for Captain Phil to suggest this plan. He was not sure it was quite square and honorable–"on the level"–as some would say,–but he called it a stratagem in a worthy cause and so felt better over it. But really, since the cause was that of helping Chip Slider, as against such villains as Murky and Grandall, no one could blame Phil, or blame any of the lads that they welcomed his proposal heartily.
The day had been hot and close. Contrary to the usual condition, also, the air grew little if any cooler as night came on. A dive from the projecting log into the lake to cool off was in order then, as the boys prepared for bed.
"Just goes to show what a nuisance clothes are, anyway," observed Paul Jones, as he dried himself. He was rejoicing exceedingly that he had only to jump into his nightshirt to be clothed to all necessary extent, following his swim. "Heap fine idea if we had clothes for day time as simple as for night time!" he added.
"Yes sir, it's just such fellows as you, Jones, that would sooner or later drift right back to the stone age if there weren't more energetic ones to drag you along forward, making you wear clothes and things–keeping you civilized," was MacLester's answer. A good-natured grin accompanied his remarks.
"Well, I s'pose it takes clothes to give some folks an appearance of being civilized," was Paul's warm rejoinder, yet with utmost good-nature. "But for my part–well, I'll go on wearing 'em, David, for your sake."
"And it would make your appearance more civilized still if you made more civil use of your tongue," MacLester retorted.
Then Jones had recourse to his usual, "Tush, tush, Davy! You've tired yourself all out. You'll feel better tomorrow."
This sort of language, in a fatherly tone that from Paul's slender size, in contrast with Dave's large frame, was really grotesque, always provoked a mild laugh. Usually, too, it closed the wordy clashes in which the two boys frequently engaged.
MacLester made no further response. He was ready for bed now, Billy had already crept in and Phil and Chip Slider were following him.
"Last is best of all the game," chirped Jones in his own blithe, self-complacent way as he saw that he was bringing up the rear, as often he had done before. But in another moment he likewise was in bed. The boys were feeling now the late hours of the night before. Undoubtedly they all would "feel better tomorrow."
The probability that the amiable Mr. Murky would discover Chip Slider's presence in the woods had been discussed before, but the talk was renewed at breakfast Monday morning. Chip was quite sure the old fellow did not suspect that he was near. He had been very careful to keep out of Murky's sight and was more anxious than ever to do so now, being quite sure there would be serious trouble for himself and his new friends as well, were he discovered.
It was so apparent that Slider stood in great dread of the tramp that Phil had no hesitancy in suggesting that he might better remain at the camp while the others visited the old house. Chip agreed readily. He said he could be of no use elsewhere, and his presence with the Auto Boys would but inflame Murky as much against them as himself if they chanced to meet him.
With the exception of the upstairs window being closed, the clubhouse and its surroundings looked exactly the same as on their former visits to the Point, the Auto Boys found. The air of loneliness, melancholy and excessive quiet impressed them all just as it had done before. The sound of their own footsteps appeared to ring in a hollow and unnatural way. Their voices, though low and subdued, seemed loud and harsh in their ears in the foreboding calm of this haunted atmosphere.
"I don't see why it should always feel so here–as if a fellow was just going to be scared to death," remarked Billy in an undertone.
"If you figure it out, though, it's all in your mind," replied Phil thoughtfully. "Trouble is, to make yourself believe it."
But notwithstanding his reasoning, sound enough, undoubtedly, despite the awful tragedy the Point was so soon to witness–Captain Phil carried his philosophy rather gingerly, as it were, when he stepped up on the porch to knock. In other words, he stepped very lightly. Still his rapping was right sharp and it should have brought a response had there been anyone within hearing, willing to make answer.
Peering in at the windows, the boys could see nothing in any way different than when they had been at the house the first time.
"I tell you whoever was here has gone," said MacLester for the fourth or fifth time, and he tried the door. It was locked. The door at the rear,–that is, the one opening upon the high porch facing the lake, was likewise tightly secured.
"Now then," said Phil, resolutely, "we're face to face with the question that has been in my mind all night. What are we going to do next? And I'll tell you what we are going to do. We have no right to go into the house–no right at all, one way you look at it. But that isn't the answer. We are helping Chip Slider with his search for money that was stolen and hidden, and that ought to be found and returned to its owners. Then it's necessary that we go in this clubhouse and we're going in."
"Paul knows the way up through the cellar! Let him get in at the window he got out of and so go up the cellar stairs and open the door for us. There's a key inside, likely," proposed Billy.
"Say! how'd you like to take a run and jump off the dock?" answered young Mr. Jones with more fervor than elegance. "No, sir! We can find some other window open!"
And Paul was right. A surprise awaited the boys when they reached the west side of the house. (The path from front to rear passed on the east of the building.) The brush and a couple of tall trees grew very close to the walls at the westerly side. Phil was foremost as the friends ventured in that direction.
"Look!" he cried suddenly. "A window open, and more than that, it's smashed to smithereens!"
Quite true it was. The fragments of glass littered the parched and stunted grass. The sash of the window was raised to its fullest height. A freshly broken branch of a low bush, close by, was evidence that the mischief had been done but recently.
The boys could only guess by whom and for what purpose the window had been shattered. The thought came to them that Murky might have been doing some investigating inside. Possibly he was in the house at this very minute. The idea was not a pleasant one to contemplate.
"Gee whiz! I'd fade away– I'd shrink up to a pale shadow and perish–actually perish, if ever that fellow got hold of me!" said young Mr.