CHAPTER XXVIII

AT THE OLD HOUSE

The Rover boys and their chums approached the old house with a good deal

of interest. Dick led the way, setting a pace that made it hard for the

others to keep up.

"Don't hurry so, Dick," remonstrated Fred. "The house isn't going to run

away."

"Dick wants to make sure if that Merrick is around," responded Songbird.

"And I can't blame him."

The old Sobber homestead was surrounded by a grove of trees equally

aged. One of the trees had blown down, taking a corner of the roof with

it. Through this opening the birds flitted.

"I don't believe a soul is around," observed Tom, as they halted in

front of the building.

"Nothing like ringing the bell!" cried Sam, and mounting the dilapidated

piazza he raised the ancient knocker of the door and used it vigorously.

Then came a crash and the youngest Rover felt the piazza bottom give

way.

"Look out, a post is coming down!" cried Dick, warningly, and Sam had

just time enough to leap away when the corner post of the piazza fell,

allowing the roof above to sag several inches.

"Looks to me as if the whole building was on the verge of collapse," was

Songbird's comment.

"Yes, and I don't know whether I want to go in or not," added Larry.

"It certainly does look shaky," admitted Dick. "I don't think anybody

would risk staying in it long."

Leaving the front, they walked around the old house and gazed through

several of the broken-out windows. Inside all was dirt and cobwebs, with

a few pieces of broken-down furniture scattered about. As he looked in

one window Tom saw a big rat scurry across the floor.

"I guess rats are the only tenants," he said dryly. "And they don't pay

rent."

"With a few birds on the top floor, front," added Sam. "Well, do we go

in or not?"

"I am going in," declared Dick, and pushed open the old kitchen door. It

was damp and mouldy in the apartment, for the rain had soaked loose much

of the plaster and caused it to fall.

The big open fireplace looked grimy and forbidding with its iron bars

and chains. An iron kettle stood on the chimney-piece, a crack across

the bottom.

"Somebody has had a fire here not so very long ago!" said Dick, and

picked up a bit of half-burnt newspaper. He turned it over. "Here is a

date. This newspaper is only four days old!"

"Then whoever made a fire here visited this house within the past four

days," said Larry in a tragic whisper.

"Whoop! just listen to what a detective Larry is becoming!" cried Tom.

"Regular Bowery Bob, the Newsboy Sleuth!"

"Perhaps it was only some curiosity seeker who came here," suggested

Fred.

With caution, for the floors were very rotten, the cadets moved from one

room of the old house to another.

"Anything in there?" asked Tom of Sam, as the latter peered into a room

that was extra dark.

"I can't make out," was the answer, and Sam took a step forward. Then of

a sudden there was a strange whirring, and something hit the youngest

Rover boy on the ear, causing him to fall back in fright.

"Stop that!" he cried.

"What was it?" queried Tom, while the others came running to the spot.

"Something hit me on the ear!"

"Anybody in there?"

"There must be."

"Come out of that, whoever you are!" yelled Fred, while Dick pointed his

shotgun at the door.

There was no answer, but a second later came the whirring again, and

then a big bat flew into the light, just grazing Tom's face.

"A bat!"

"Let it go!" said Songbird, and then the bat flew out of a window and

disappeared.

"Oh!" murmured Sam, and breathed a sigh of relief. "I--I thought

somebody struck at me!"

"I've got one of those electric pocket lights along," said Tom. "Let me

use that."

He turned on the little electric lamp, and by its rays they inspected

the apartment. It was a bedroom, and in one corner was an old bedstead

and on it a musty straw mattress. In another corner was a closet

containing several shelves.

"Here is an old inkwell," said Dick, and brought it forth. "And here are

the remains of a box of writing paper and envelopes."

"Any letters?" asked Fred.

They looked around, but at first could find no writings of any kind. But

behind one of the shelves, in a crack, they discovered several sheets of

paper and took these to the light to read.

"They are parts of letters from Mr. Sobber to his wife," said Dick.

"They must have been written by Tad's father."

"He speaks here of Merrick," added Tom, who was scanning a blurred page.

"Merrick is Mrs. Sobber's brother beyond a doubt."

"From these letters I should say Mr. Sobber had been off on a sea trip,"

continued the eldest Rover boy. "And it looks to me as if he had been an

honest man, for he tells his wife that he hopes Merrick will give up his

gambling habits."

From the bedroom the boys entered what had been the parlor of the house.

This was almost bare. To one side of the parlor was an entry-way, and

here was a stairs leading to the second story and another leading to the

cellar.

"Well, shall we go up or down?" queried Dick.

"Let us see what the cellar looks like first," answered Sam. "Perhaps

we'll find a pot of gold there."

"Or a few skeletons," put in Tom.

"Ugh! don't say skeletons," cried Songbird, with a shiver. "I've got the

creeps already!"

"Look out that you don't break your neck on the stairs," warned Larry,

and then Dick led the way down, holding the light before him.

If it was damp above it was far more so below, and the boys shivered in

spite of themselves. The cellar had only a mud bottom and this was

covered with slime and mold. There was little there to interest them

outside of an old chest which, when they pried it open, proved to be

empty.

"Listen!" cried Tom, suddenly, and held up his hand.

"What did you hear?" demanded several of the others.

"I thought I heard somebody walking around upstairs. There it is again!"

All gave attention, and heard the unmistakable sounds of footsteps on

the stairs leading to the second story.

"Who is up there?" called out Dick, and turned to leave the cellar,

followed by his brothers and chums.

"Stay where you are!" came back in a harsh voice. "Don't any of you dare

to come out of that cellar!"

"It is Merrick!" burst out Tom.

Hardly had he spoken when they heard a door shut sharply and a bolt

dropped into place. Then the footsteps retreated.

"He has shut the door to the cellar!" cried Dick, flashing the light

upward. "We are locked in!"

"Hark! I heard more than one person running from the house," said Larry.

"That Pike must be with him."

"Or else Tad Sobber."

As quickly as he could, Dick ran up the old stairs and tried the door.

It was in fairly good condition and refused to budge.

"Smash it down!" called out Tom, and went to his brother's assistance.

"We must get out and collar those rascals," said Sam. "Can't you get the

door open?"

"We ought to be able to," answered Dick. "Here, catch the light and take

the gun."

In a few seconds Dick, Tom and Songbird were pressing on the door with

all their strength. All stood on the top step of the cellar stairs.

"Now then, all together!" cried Dick, and they shoved with might and

main. Then came a crack below them, and an instant later the cellar

stairs collapsed, carrying them with it. As they went down in a confused

heap the stairs struck the electric light and smashed it. It also

knocked the shotgun from Sam's hand.

Bang! went the firearm, with a report in the narrow confines of the

cellar that was deafening.

"I'm killed! I'm killed!" came from Larry, an instant later. "You've

shot my hand off!"