“It’s a spooky old sort of a place all right,” remarked Blake.

“It sure is,” agreed Phil.

“And it’s going to be uncommon uncomfortable before morning,” declared Jack.

“Want to back out?” asked Phil, pausing in the act of arranging some bags which they had brought to stretch out on.

“Back out? Not on your life!” cried Jack. “We’d never hear the last of it if the girls found it out.”

“They needn’t know,” suggested Blake. “Not that I’m anxious to quit, but I thought perhaps——”

“Say, if those girls were smart enough to find Bear Pond and the Gypsy camp they’d find out about us coming here and then backing out,” declared Jack. “No, we’ve got to stick now, whether we want to or not. Let’s make the best of it.”

The boys had brought their things into the old mill, the reputed mystery of which they intended to solve. Though what that mystery was, beyond Old Hanson having declared he had listened to strange noises of late, was more than the boys could tell. The face Natalie thought she saw did not particularly interest them, for, on talking it over, they had decided that it might have been a pigeon, or a bat, flying about in the old loft of the mill. And the creature might have passed close to the broken window as Natalie looked up.

“But it will be something to say we’ve done,” remarked Jack, arranging the supply of victuals they had brought, and setting down the lantern. “We’ll dare the girls to spend a night here—after we get through.”

“Maybe they will,” suggested Blake.

“Never! Not after we put on the loud pedal about the rattling of chains that we heard, and the groans and sighs, invisible hands on the back of your neck and all the stock-ghost stuff!” exclaimed Phil. “Bur-r-r-r! I can hear ’em scream now.”

“Well, let’s get busy and talk afterward,” suggested Jack. “I don’t believe anything will happen. Old Hanson imagined it all. There may be a stray tramp or so sleeping in here once in a while, or perhaps some of the Gypsy men.”

“Then it wouldn’t be safe for the girls to come,” said Blake.

“Don’t worry—they won’t come within a mile of the place!” exclaimed Phil. “But what are we going to do all night?”

“Play checkers and dominoes, taking turns at it,” came from Jack. “I brought both games along. Then we’ll divide the watches, and each one stand his share. That, with eating and talking, will make morning come fast enough.”

Now, that they were fully committed to the matter, the boys felt that it was not such a foolish piece of business after all.

“Old Hanson will be glad to know there isn’t a ghost here,” said Jack. “He’ll want to come back here in the winter I guess. We’ll lay the haunt for him if there is one.”

Night was coming on, so the boys lighted one of the two lanterns they had brought. They had taken up their quarters in what had evidently been one of the living rooms of the old structure in its Colonial days, for there was a big stone fireplace in the apartment.

“We’ll make believe we belong to the Camp Fire Girls, and have a blaze there,” said Phil, as he brought in some wood. “There, I’m a Wood Gatherer,” he added with a laugh, “you can be a Fire Starter, Blake and Jack will be Chief Cook and Bottle-washer.”

“Do you think it’s safe to start a fire in that crazy old chimney?” asked Jack, as Blake piled the wood up on two bricks to make a draft under it. Then he set a match to the fagots.

“Oh, I guess it’s safe enough,” was the answer. “I remember Old Hanson had a fire here years ago.”

“Yes, but if a spark sets fire to the old shebang it’ll go like tinder,” declared Jack.

“That’ll be the last of the ghost, at all events,” was Blake’s reply. “Now stop being fussy, and let’s enjoy ourselves. Where are the rest of the sandwiches?”

“If we eat ’em all up now there won’t be any for ............