by Ross Kay
E-text prepared by Roger Frank, Juliet Sutherland, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE MYSTERIOUS OLD HOUSE
by
ROSS KAY
Author of "The Search for the Spy," "The Air Scout," "Dodging theNorth Sea Mines," "With Joffre on the Battle Line," "The Go AheadBoys on Smugglers' Island," "The Go Ahead Boys and the TreasureCave," etc., etc.
Copyright, 1916,byBarse & Hopkins
PREFACE
In almost every rural community in the older parts of our country thereis a house which some of the country folk have believed to be "haunted."As a rule this house is old and perhaps has fallen into partial decay.The children passing on the country road move to the opposite side whenthey draw near the building. Stories are current of scenes which havebeen witnessed and sounds heard in the vacant dwelling. Perhaps even theolder people have not altogether outgrown their feeling of timidity whenthey are near it. How baseless all such stories are and how easily mostof the unusual sights and sounds can be accounted for is of courseclearly understood. In this story I have tried to interest my youngreaders in the attempts of four normal, go-ahead boys to solve themysteries connected with a venerable house near the home of one of them,which was shunned by many of the simple country people. I haveendeavored to avoid all sensationalism and yet to interest the boys andgirls in a stirring story of the experiences of my heroes. I am notwithout hope that the final solution of the mystery of the old MeekerHouse may help my young readers a little more courageously to face otherproblems, perhaps equally mysterious or perplexing, which may bepresented to them in other forms. At all events I sincerely hope thatthe spirit and determination of the Go Ahead Boys will remain in theirminds after the story itself shall have long been forgotten.
--Ross Kay
CONTENTS . CHAPTER I--THE OLD MEEKER HOUSE . CHAPTER II--COWBOYS AND SKINNERS . CHAPTER III--INTO THE HAUNTED HOUSE . CHAPTER IV--FLIGHT . CHAPTER V--A SURPRISE . CHAPTER VI--A PRISONER . CHAPTER VII--AN ESCAPE . CHAPTER VIII--THE LOST CAR . CHAPTER IX--ANOTHER FLIGHT . CHAPTER X--THE CAPTURE IN THE PASS . CHAPTER XI--THE SEARCH FOR THE MISSING CAR . CHAPTER XII--A HASTY DEPARTURE . CHAPTER XIII--WORD CONCERNING THE LOST CAR . CHAPTER XIV--DISAPPOINTED . CHAPTER XV--A FAMOUS SPOT . CHAPTER XVI--ANOTHER LOSS . CHAPTER XVII--LEFT BEHIND . CHAPTER XVIII--THE ARRIVAL . CHAPTER XIX--AN INVITATION . CHAPTER XX--THE FATHER OF HIS COUNTRY . CHAPTER XXI--AN EXPLANATION IN PART . CHAPTER XXII--A DARE . CHAPTER XXIII--LED BY A MAN . CHAPTER XXIV--THE END OF THE HOUSE . CHAPTER XXV--A TALK WITH THE TRAMP . CHAPTER XXVI--CONCLUSION
THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE MYSTERIOUS OLD HOUSE
CHAPTER I--THE OLD MEEKER HOUSE
"Do you see that house?"
"You mean that low, old house on the corner of the road?"
"Yes."
"What of it?"
"Well, that's one of the oldest houses in this part of the country."
"It looks the part. How old is it?"
"It's at least one hundred and seventy-five years old."
"It's old enough to look better, then. Is that one of the houses thatWashington slept in?"
"I guess so."
"It must be, from the stories you have told me since I have been here.How old was Washington, anyway, when he died?"
"He was in his sixty-eighth year."
"I think there's some mistake about that."
"No, sir. Those are the correct figures. He was born in 1732 and he diedin 1799."
"I'm not going to dispute you, George. I'll take your word for it, butit always seemed to me that Washington's age must have been a good dealgreater than the histories say it was."
"Why?"
"Because he slept in so many houses. I have figured it up and if he hadspent about a quarter of an hour in every one of the houses that you sayhe slept in, it will figure out that he was a good deal more thansixty-seven years old. Indeed, I have begun to think that Methuselah wasan infant-in-arms compared with George Washington, if ten per cent ofthe stories you have been telling us are true. By the way, how old wasMethuselah, anyway?"
"'And all the days of Methuselah were nine hundred and sixty and nineyears and he died.'"
"Well, poor old man, I should have thought he would have been ready todie. Just think of it, having to live in this world almost a thousandyears! I wonder how his hearing was and if he could see straight. I havealways thought that no matter how long I might live I should want peopleto feel when I came to die that I had a little more of a record thanborn in 1899 and died some time in the future."
"That's the best thing some men ever did."
"What?"
"Why, to die. They'd give up their places to others who could fill thembetter."
"What's all that got to do with that old house?"
"Nothing. I didn't start to talk about Methuselah."
"That's all right, but what about this house?"
"It's haunted."
A hearty laugh went up from the three boys who were the companions ofGeorge Sanders in his automobile.
The conversation which has been recorded had been carried on by GeorgeSanders and his friend Fred Button. These two boys, together with JohnClemens and Grant Jones, were close friends and schoolmates. Althoughthey were nearly of the same age they were markedly different in theirappearance. Fred, who was the pygmy of the party, was a little,round-faced, bright-eyed fellow, who was able to say quick and keenthings and who was the inspiration of most of the pranks of which theband was guilty.
John Clemens was perhaps Fred's closest friend. He was six feet threeinches tall, but he did not weigh very much more than the shorter Fred,who made up in breadth what he lacked in length.
Grant Jones, the most quiet and thoughtful member of the party, seldomentered into the wordy contests, although he took special delight in thepranks of his comrades.
George Washington Sanders was the owner of the automobile in which thefour boys were riding.
The day was one of the most beautiful of early summer. In Northern NewJersey, not far from the border of New York State, George's father hadan extensive farm. To this place from their early childhood the fourfriends had been accustomed to come from the great city and the manygood times they had enjoyed there seemed to increase in number andquality with every succeeding summer.
Not all their summers had been passed on the farm, however. There hadbeen frequent trips, which the boys had taken to different parts oftheir own land and others. A few years before this time they had beenaccompanied by the father or uncle of one of the boys, who had acted asguardian and guide. On these various trips they had not only had manyenjoyable times, but also many stirring experiences. Some of theseadventures have already been told in other stories of this series.
Among themselves the boys frequently referred to the quartet as the GoAhead boys. They had selected this name as one that was most expressiveof their purposes. They had found it in the famous motto of DavyCrockett, who, years ago, was himself familiarly known as "Go Ahead"Crockett.
On the day when this story opens they were on their way to George'sfarm. They had approached within a mile of their destination when theirhost had called their attention to the low building which commonly wasreferred to as the Meeker House. It was an unpretentious structure,containing a story and a half, with a lean-to or addition, that lookedmuch as if it had been built as an afterthought, or as a postscript isadded to a letter.
The sides of the building were weather-beaten and it was manifest thatit had been long since any one had dwelt in the house.
"It seems to me,
George," spoke up Fred, "that you're finding newhistorical places around the farm every summer. Let me see, what was itlast summer?"
"You are doing better, Fred," laughed George. "You remember now thatthere was a last summer. I have sometimes been afraid you wouldn'tremember even that much, but for your sake I'll tell you that lastsummer I told you the story of the young fellow who was captured inRamapo Pass. He was Washington's messenger, you will remember, althoughhe did not know it at the time."
"I do recall now," said Fred pompously, "some information you were kindenough to dole out to us. It seems to me that you told me that thisyoung fellow was sent purposely by Washington down through the RamapoValley so that he would be captured by the British and taken to NewYork. If I'm correct he had a letter sewed inside the lining of his coatand this letter contained instructions for General Heath, who was atMorristown, to join him, that is Washington and not the boy, in takingNew York."
"That's right. It all comes back to me, too," joined in Grant. "Thisfellow was taken to New York and he felt pretty mad at Washington. Hecould have found his way across the country all right, he thought, andwould have given the message to General Heath without any trouble, butWashington insisted upon his going through to Ramapo Valley and ofcourse he was caught. Poor chap, he didn't know that that was the verything Washington was planning to do. He wanted him caught so that hisletter would be found and Clinton wouldn't dare leave New York."
"What did Clinton want to leave New York for?" broke in John. "I can'tunderstand why anybody would want to leave little, old New York. That'sthe best town on the globe."
"He wanted to take his army south to help Cornwallis, who was bottled upon the Yorktown peninsula. That was the trick that Washington played onhim. He kept Clinton here, and when at last Clinton got his eyes opened,he found out that Washington's army was already down across the Delawareand headed for Chesapeake Bay."
"Did he arrive in time?" inquired Fred innocently.
"For further and detailed information I refer you to any primary historyof the United States," said Grant laughingly. "That's one of the thingsno American boy ought to have to learn. He ought to know it before hebegins."
"What about this house back here?" said Fred. "You seem to point it outas if you thought there was something peculiar about it."
"I told you that it's haunted."
Again the boys laughed heartily as Grant said, "Anybody would think tohear you talk, George, that you belonged back in the days when theyhanged witches."
"You mean burned," spoke up Fred promptly.
"No, I don't mean 'burned' the witches, I mean 'hanged,'" retortedGrant. "There are some ignorant people who sometimes talk about thepeople of the Salem Colony burning witches, but they didn't burnthem--they hanged them."
"Pardon me," said Fred demurely. "I stand corrected."
"But there really is something queer about this house," said George. "Iknow, for I've been there."
The boys all looked back at the little building, which now was farbehind them. The quiet that rested upon it seemed like that of acemetery. It plainly belonged to another generation.
"What do you mean by its being haunted!" demanded Fred, at last breakingin upon the silence.
"I'm telling you what the common report is," said George, somewhattestily. "Everybody says it is haunted."
"But you said you yourself knew it was."
"No, I didn't. I said there was something peculiar about it."
"Go on with your story, George," called John. "Don't keep us in thisburning suspense. What was it?"
"Why, I went over there one day," explained George, somewhatreluctantly. "It was just at sunset and a terrible thunder shower hadcome up and I ran to the old Meeker House to get in out of the rain."
"When did you learn to do that?" broke in Fred.
"I didn't have to learn," declared George. "At all events I got insidethe house and waited for the storm to pass. But it didn't pass. When itstruck the hills over yonder it was turned back by colder currents ofair, so I got the storm coming and going. The first thing I knew the oldplace was dark and then--"
"And then what?" demanded Grant.
"And then,--things began to happen."
"What happened?" inquired Grant. "Don't keep us in this terriblesuspense."
"Well, there wasn't a breath of air stirring," explained George, "butthe window shutters began to slam a half a dozen times and I heardgroans that seemed to come up from the cellar and I was almost sure thatonce I heard something or somebody call my name."
"That's a good one," laughed John, who in spite of his flippant mannerwas strongly moved by the story of his friend. "You're always expectingsomebody to call you by name whether they know you or not."
"Oh, but they know _of_ him," suggested Fred. "I know _of_ a good manypeople that I don't know by sight; for example, there's the President."
"Keep still, fellows," ordered Grant, "and let George tell his story. Hewas as far as the slamming of the shutters and the groans that came fromthe cellar and the call which some of the evil spirits made on him byname. Go on, George," he added, turning to his friend, "tell us whathappened next."
