lieve a dog is man's best friend, as faithful as life
itself."

"Well, here we are," remarked Frank, with a ring of satisfaction in
his voice.

"It's a high fence, sure enough," said Bluff, "with barbed wire strung
across where the creek comes out under it, so even a fox would find it
hard to get through. How shall we manage it, Frank?"

"First of all, we'll move along the fence. There may happen to be a
board loose where we can slip through. That would be better than
trying the gate, to be turned down flat-footed."

They had not gone fifty feet before Bluff discovered the loose board
they sought. It required only a small amount of agility to pass
through the opening, after which they walked along through the woods
on the other side of the high fence.

Presently they came in sight of a long, low house, which was half
hidden amidst dense foliage, and looked, as Bluff called it, "spooky."

Straight up to the door of this building the two boys strode, and
Frank without hesitation rapped loudly with his knuckles.

CHAPTER VII

THE CHAINED DOOR

It seemed to the two boys that Frank's knock sounded weirdly through
the house, though it did not bring any immediate result. Accordingly,
he again brought his knuckles against the door panel, this time with
even greater force than before.

"That fetched them, Frank," muttered Bluff. "I can hear somebody
shuffling along the hall and heading this way."

Presently they heard a bolt withdrawn, a rather ponderous affair it
seemed; and somehow this struck Frank as rather queer. Why should any
one living so far away from town, and off the beaten track of travel,
take such pains to secure his door?

"Gee whiz! I shouldn't think they'd ever be bothered with hoboes or
sneak thieves away up in this part of the country," whispered Bluff,
who always had a mind of his own and was hard to repress.

The door was slowly and cautiously opened. Frank saw that it was still
held by a stout chain, so that no one outside could enter against the
will of the inmates. It made him think of one of the old feudal
castles he had lately been reading about in Sir Walter Scott's
romances, where they had draw-bridges, moats, and a port-cullis to
protect them against assault.

A face was seen in the narrow opening. It was an old face, wrinkled,
so that at first Frank imagined it might belong to Aaron himself. Then
he discovered his mistake, for the white hair belonged to a woman,
evidently