The Boy Scouts with the Motion Picture Players | Page 9

while to carry it along with him on
this expedition, though not saying anything about it to the others, thus
far.
"I'm bound to find out what makes that noise, as sure as anything can

be," was what the boy was telling himself resolutely, even while he
crept out from among the folds of the warm blanket endeared to him by
reason of many associations of the past, of which so much has been
written in previous volumes.
That was just like Hugh Hardin. A good many boys would possibly
have concluded that going wandering about a great imitation castle like
Randall's Folly, after midnight, trying to discover the origin of strange
sounds, was no business of theirs, and would have cuddled down closer,
even drawing their blanket over their heads in order that they might not
hear a repetition of the noise.
Hugh was built on a different order. He knew full well that sleep with
him was entirely out of the question so long as that chilling whimpering
and rustling continued at regular intervals.
Now Hugh was only a boy, it must be remembered, and many a strong
man would have declined committing himself in the way the scout
master intended doing.
He had listened to all the talk about ghosts carried on by the other
fellows, with more or less interest and amusement, for Hugh refused to
believe in spook manifestations. At the same time he admitted that his
heart was fluttering at a much more rapid gait than customary when he
started toward one of the doors of the room, using the little electric
torch to light his way.
If any one could have read the thoughts that were surging through the
boy's excited mind, they would perhaps have been found to range about
in this manner:
"Ghosts, eh? Well, I've always said there never existed any, and
perhaps I'll have a chance right now to prove it, one way or the other. A
queer kind of a hobgoblin that must be to keep whimpering like a baby,
and then fluttering to beat the band. But what in the wide world can it
all mean? That's what I reckon on finding out, given half a chance."
He had reached the door by that time. Billy had seen to it that the bolt

was shot into its socket before he lay down. More than that, he had
even gone to the trouble to fill the keyhole full of crumpled paper,
remembering that jibe on the part of one of his chums to the effect that
spirits can "ooze like smoke" through even such small apertures.
Hugh had been wise enough to pick up a handy club before starting
forth upon his mission of investigation. He did not anticipate finding a
chance to make use of it, but when a man insures his house against fire
he really does not expect it to be burned down. Hugh wanted to be on
the safe side, that was all.
Just at that point the boy, was influenced to turn around and cast the
light of his torch upon the forms of his four comrades swathed in their
coverings. Not one of them moved, even in the slightest degree, so that,
if Hugh was half contemplating inviting company, he found no
encouragement there.
Gritting his teeth, the boy calmly drew back the bolt, softly opened the
massive door, slipped boldly through the aperture, and then as deftly
closed the door behind him.
Standing there in the great hall he listened intently, meanwhile keeping
his light turning this way and that in order to see if anything moved.
Perhaps, in the days when Judge Randall lived in his romantic castle,
this massive hall had been decorated after the usual custom of feudal
times. Hugh could easily imagine shining suits of armor standing
grimly in, the corners, like sentries on guard. He had detected marks on
the walls betraying the fact that at some time they had borne all manner
of relics of long-past age of chivalry, so that the illusion might be
complete. But now they stood there bare and cold, and a chilly draught
came down from the empty regions above that made the boy shiver.
Then he heard the strange sounds again. They were clearer now than
before.
"One thing certain," muttered Hugh, between his set teeth, "whatever
makes that noise it comes from up above. And the thing for me to do is
to climb the stairs; so here goes."

If he felt any hesitation he did not show it as he made his way to the
foot of the broad stairway and commenced mounting, step after step.
Always the sounds seemed to grow a little clearer, and this fact told
Hugh his scout instinct must be truly leading him directly toward