ad fastened a narrow strip of
molding around the cabinet. About two feet of this molding had been torn
away, leaving the nails protruding from the cabinet and Tom noticed not
only that the unvarnished strip which the molding had covered was clean
and white, but that the exposed parts of the nails were still shiny.

"Huh," he thought, "whoever pulled that off must have been in a great
hurry not to hammer the nails in or even pull them out."

As he twisted the nails out, one by one, it occurred to him to wonder
why the heavy, clinging coat of damp dust which covered the rest of the
cabinet was absent from this white unsoiled strip and shiny nails. The
cabinet, he thought, must have been in the cellar for some time, whereas
the molding must have been wrenched from it very recently, for it does
not take long for a nail to become rusty in a damp cellar.

He struck another match and looked about near the chimney, intending, if
the strip of molding were there, to take it upstairs and nail it on
where it belonged, for one of the good things which the scout life had
taught Tom was that broken furniture and crooked nails sticking out
spell carelessness and slovenliness.

But the strip was not to be found. A less observant boy would not have
given two thoughts to the matter, but in his hasty thinking Tom reached
this conclusion, that some one had very lately pulled this strip of
molding off of the cabinet and had used it for a purpose, since it was
nowhere to be seen.

With Pete's tale fresh in his mind, he struck match after match and
peered about the cellar. Against the opposite wall he noticed a stick
with curved tongs on one end of it, manipulated by a thin metal bar
running to the other end. It was one of those handy implements used to
lift cans down from high shelves. It stood among other articles, a rake,
an old broom, but the deft little mechanical hand on the end of it was
bright and shiny, so this, too, had not been long in the damp cellar.

For a moment Tom paused and thought. It never occurred to him that
momentous consequences might hang upon his thinking. He was simply
curious and rather puzzled.

He picked up the can lifter and stood looking at it. Then with a sudden
thought he went back to the chimney, struck a match and, thrusting his
head into the sooty hole, looked up. Four or five feet above, well out
of arm's reach, something thin ran across from one side to the other of
the spacious chimney. The can li