CHAPTER X A NOTE FROM A GHOST
The week that now followed was one of hard labor, and the long hours ofwork at the Coleson house were succeeded by earnest rehearsals of theorchestra. Such industry brought gratifying results and hardly had theyoung people of Truesdell settled to their accustomed routine after theusual Fourth of July celebration, when their interest was aroused bypromise of a new attraction. This was heralded by flaming posters,adorned with grinning death heads and bearing the followingannouncement:
DEMON DANCES at the HAUNTED COLESON HOUSE
THRILLS!! MYSTERY!!
PHUN with the PHANTOMS
Grand Opening Sat. July 7
Music by the Syncopating Six
Admission $1.00 a Couple
Refreshments.
Tommy Beals’ “idea” went over big—as his companions assured him in sohearty a manner that he grew quite pink with pleasure.
“It really wasn’t my idea at all,” he protested modestly. “Ned said itfirst. I only worked it up a bit and made the posters.”
“Yes, and in a way that none of the rest of us have got either the witor the skill to do!” declared Ned, loyally. “Now the next thing will beto get up some stunts in the ghost line. Nothing horrible, but justenough to keep the crowd guessing.”
“That ought to be easy,” said Charlie Rogers. “All we need is a littlephosphorescent paint—the kind that glows at night—kind of pale andghastly, and maybe a couple of iron chains to clank at the right time.”
As July seventh drew near, the “haunted” house was the scene of feverishactivity. The well scraped oak floor was given its final coating of waxand polished to a perilous smoothness. Flags and bunting, which hadrecently decked the town band-stand, now concealed the rough unfinishedtimbers and broken portions of walls and ceilings. A piano was installedon the stair-landing and one hundred chairs of the folding type used atpublic gatherings were arranged along the walls of the two dance rooms.A rectangle of solid flooring covered the opening to the cellar andremoved any danger of injury to the dancers from a fall into the blackpit below. With the heavy part of the work completed, the boys haddeclared a half-holiday and were gathered in the Wilbur garage for afinal conference.
“We’re just fifty-six dollars in the hole,” announced Chairman Blakeafter a careful revision of the figures handed him by Treasurer Beals.“If this first dance is the success it ought to be, we can square up oneverything and have something ahead for payment on the lease.”
“I guess we needn’t worry about that,” said Wat Sanford. “From the talkthat’s going round we’ll have over a hundred paid admissions, easy.”
“The crowd down at the Pavilion is beginning to take notice,” chuckledDick Somers. “Bony Jones held me up today and wanted to know who isbacking us. I made him swear to keep the secret and then told him thatHenry Ford is helping us. And that’s the truth,” continued Dick,indicating the flivver by a jerk of his thumb, “Henry is furnishing thetransportation.”
“There’s something I ought to tell you fellows,” began Tommy Beals, whenthe laugh at Dick’s joke had subsided. “I don’t suppose it reallyamounts to anything, but all the same it’s a bit strange.” Here Tommypaused and drew from his pocket a paper which he unfolded and passed toNed Blake. “It’s a letter that came to Sam,” continued Beals, “and I’llsay it just about scared the daylights out of that coon. Read it, Ned.”
Ned glanced over the typewritten sheet and read aloud as follows:
“Sam G. Washington,
“I hear that you have hired my house and intend to run dances there. Now listen, you black son of Satan! If you do this, or if you _allow_ it to be done, I’ll haunt you to your dying day.
“Eli Coleson.”
Ned paused and glanced round the circle of faces upon which was depictedsurprise, doubt and uncertainty. For a moment nobody spoke. It was TommyBeals who broke the silence.
“Sam got the letter this morning and was waiting to show it to me when Igot home. I tried to laugh him out of his fright by telling him it was ajoke that somebody is playing on him.”
“Of course it’s a joke!” exclaimed Charlie Rogers, impetuously. “Nobodybut a superstitious darky would pay any attention to such stuff!”
“But suppose he should get scared and funk the whole thing and cancelhis lease? What hold have we got on him to make him stick?” demandedDave Wilbur.
“Not much, I’ll admit,” replied Ned, gloomily. “This letter was mailedon the train and shows only the railroad post-office mark. Evidentlywhoever wrote it intends to keep under cover. I wonder how many peopleknow that the lease stands in Sam’s name?”
“Oh, probably a hundred, by this time!” declared Dick Somers,disgustedly. “I suppose Sam felt so important that he bragged of thething all over town!”
But in this, Dick did the honest negro an injustice, for in spite ofswelling pride which threatened him with suffocation, Sam had kept hissecret faithfully. To his simple mind it thus appeared that the ghost ofEli Coleson must know his inmost thoughts and secret acts, and this ideahad, as Tommy Beals expressed it, almost scared the daylights out ofhim.
“If we had the seventy-five dollars to plank down right now as advancepayment in full for the lease, Sam might find it hard to cancel it,”suggested Jim Tapley.
“We’ll have the cash after the dance Saturday night,” declared Dick.“We’ll have to find some way to keep Sam away from the town hall tillMonday—even if we have to kidnap him!”
“Suppose some of us have a talk with Sam and try to convince him that heis being made the butt of a joke,” suggested Ned.
“Well, it’s worth a try,” agreed Beals. “I’ll go with you right now,”and the two emissaries left the garage in a hurry.
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