"Here we are!" cried Bridge, "and spooks or no spookswe'll find a dry spot in that very aged ruin. There was a stovethere last fortnight and it's doubtless there yet. A good fireto dry our clothes and hot us up will fit us for a bullygood sleep, and I'll wager a silk hat that The 0skaloosaKid is a mighty sleepy kid, eh?"

The kid admitted the allegation and the two turnedin through the gateway, stepping over the fallen gateand moving through knee high weeds toward the for-bidding structure in the distance. A clump of trees sur-rounded the house, their shade adding to the almost ut-ter purpleness of the evening.

The two had reached the verandah when Bridge,turning, saw a brilliant light flaring through the eveningfar above the crest of the hill they had just topped in theirdescent into the ravine, or, to be more explicit, the smallvalley, where stood the crumbling home of Squibbs. Thepurr of a rapidly moving motor rose far above the rain, thelight rose, fell, swerved to the right and to the left.

"Someone must be in a hurry," commented Bridge.