omewhat beyond where the car had turned off when the boys first reached
that place.

To the right was the old tavern, and at one spot the car had stopped
where there were signs that a path had been crushed out in traveling
through the brush towards the tavern.

"Look here," said Phil. "What does this mean?"

The signs were plain that something or someone had been half dragged or
carried along towards the old Ghost Tavern.

"What had we better do?" exclaimed Dave. "Follow the car or take a look
into that old ramshackle building?"

"Gee! Why, Billy may have been carried there--hark!"

At this from Paul all listened intently. There were certainly queer
sounds to be heard somewhere ahead. Phil dashed boldly forward, calling:

"Dave, you go back and see which way that car went! Then come back to
Paul and me. Get a hustle on now!"

Paul, dashing on after Phil, heard Dave grunt a dubious acquiescence as
he turned back towards the road. They could trust Dave. He was often
doubtful, even dubious, but he had sharp eyes and good judgment in the
main.

A minute or so later Phil, followed closely by Jones, reached a more
open space, though overgrown with straggly weeds and grass.

"This must be the yard of the old inn," remarked Phil. "Look, Paul!"

He was pointing where the woods trail on entering the yard showed
distinct signs where some hard objects had been half dragged. It was as
if boot-heels had dented the soft places in a steady imprint.

Just then came sounds from inside the house that might have been grunts
or groans of pain. Without a halt Phil dashed over the porch, where
heavier weights had partially crushed the rotten flooring. Avoiding
these places, the two boys--Phil still in the lead--entered a short
hallway, where was a doorless opening that led into what once had
doubtless been the tavern office.

On the floor of the porch and hallway were fresh tracks, with the trail
of shoe or boot-heels dragging along. The office room looked dark
inside, though a couple of sashless windows let in some light which was,
however, little more than shadowy gloom from the overhanging branches of
the trees without. While they stared, listening, something stirred and
scraped the dusty floor in a far corner, where a short counter toppled
outward as if in danger of falling over.

"What's that?" echoed Phil. "Is it anybody?"

Muffled, jerky noises issued from the recess under the half tumbling
counter. With an exclamatio