oon of the fourth day
of the journey that John stopped whistling "Yankee Doodle" to inquire of
his companion who was taking his turn riding on the box:

"Ree, do you know much about this Eagle tavern where we are to stop
to-night? I just happened to remember a story that was told in war time,
that the house was haunted."

"Haunted by Redcoat spies, I guess," Ree answered. "The whole kit of them
there at that time were the worst kind of Tories at heart, I have heard
folks say, and Captain Bowen said something about it, too, you remember?
But I guess they are all right now--got on the right side of the fence
after the war was over."

"I don't mind Indians or wild animals--fact is, I'm just hankering to
kill a bear, but I don't want anything to do with spooks or witches or
anything of that sort," returned John. "I'll keep my eyes wide open for
ghosts and robbers if we stay at the Eagle, at any rate."

"There is probably more reason to be afraid of bed-bugs," laughed Ree. "I
don't believe the Eagle is so very bad a place or Captain Bowen would not
have marked it as a stopping place. There was a man robbed and murdered
there, it is true; but that was years ago, and needn't worry us."

So with talk of their journey and the progress they hoped to make in view
of the necessity of reaching the wilderness before winter set in
severely, the lads whiled away the time. It was nearly sundown when,
passing through a woods which skirted both sides of the road, they found
the Eagle tavern in view.

"See any spooks about?" asked Ree with a smile.

"No," said John quite seriously, "but I did see a mighty wicked looking
man peeking out of the window of the barn across the road from the tavern
there, just now. He seemed to be wanting to find out who we were and what
sort of an outfit we had, without being seen by us. Without joking, Ree,
I tell you I don't like it!"

CHAPTER IV.

The Man Under the Bed.

The Eagle tavern was a long, low structure and stood close beside the
highway, on the opposite side of which was the weather-beaten log and
frame barn to which John had referred. Near the tavern was a well and an
old-fashioned sweep towering above it. At the roadside there was a
moss-covered log trough at which horses were watered. An air of
loneliness, such as is noticed about old, deserted houses, whose
door-yards have grown up to rank weeds and briars, hung over the tavern,
and the deep shadows cast by the setting sun