anything uncanny around the place we’ll be likely to find it out. Oh, you needn’t go if you don’t want to,” he added quickly upon George’s unspoken protest. “You and Uncle Sim will be excused, if you don’t want to go.”

“If you fellows go I’m not going to be left behind,” spoke up George promptly.

“Then it’s all fixed,” declared Fred gleefully. “We’ll go to the Meeker House to-night.”

CHAPTER III—INTO THE HAUNTED HOUSE

The Go Ahead boys were excited when they entered the house of their friend and that night when they gathered about the supper table their one theme of conversation was the proposed visit to the old Meeker House.

Occasionally throughout the conversation there was an expression on the face of George different from that of his companions. However, none of them was aware of the occasional smile, or of the keen look with which George occasionally glanced about the table. At other times the expression of his face was serious and his interest in the suggested visit apparently was as keen as that of any of his friends.

The boys decided to wait until darkness had fallen before they started on their expedition.

“It’s just eight o’clock,” said Grant, as they left the house and prepared to take their places in the automobile which was awaiting their coming.

“Eight o’clock and all’s not well, I’m afraid,” suggested Fred.

“Are you afraid?” demanded John with a laugh.

“No, I’m not afraid, but somehow when I think of this business,” replied Fred, “I find I have some shivers.”

“You had better not go, my lad,” said John solemnly. “This is no place for infants or those afflicted with chills.”

“I’m not chilly enough to stay home if all of you are going,” retorted Fred.

“It’s just the kind of a night we want,” spoke up George. “There isn’t any moon and it’s going to be dark.”

“Those clouds look as if it might rain,” suggested Grant.

“That will be all the better,” said George. “The darker the night the better the spooks behave. They say it’s almost impossible to find any there on a moonlight night.”

“I hope we’ll find some to-night,” laughed John, but his voice somehow seemed to belie his confidence.

At all events there was not much conversation in the automobile as it sped swiftly down the road.

George, who was driving, occasionally referred to the various stories he had heard of the deeds in the Meeker House, but his efforts did not meet with any marked response until he said, “I have heard that Claudius Smith sometimes shows up in the old house.”

“Who’s he?”

“He was a Cowboy. He lived more than one hundred and twenty-five years ago. You have got to speak of him as one who ‘was’ and not ‘is’.”

“What makes him come back to the old house?”

“It was one of his favorite places, I’m told.”

“What was he?”

“I told you he was a Cowboy. He got to acting so badly that at last all the farmers and their boys that could be spared from the army got together and chased him clear down on Long Island.”

“Did they get him?” inquired Fred.

“They did. They brought him back and took him to Goshen, where they hanged him in the old courtyard.”

“I shouldn’t think he would come back here to the Meeker House,” suggested Grant. “I should think his ghost would ‘hang’ around the court house up at Goshen.”

“I can’t tell you about that,” said George, “but it may be that he follows the road he used to travel. That may be the reason why part of the time he’s here at the old Meeker House.”

“He must have been a great boy,” suggested Fred.

“He certainly was, and he wasn’t the only one. I have heard my father tell about a man here in Jersey named Fagan. He was one