Frank made up his mind, on witnessing the man's grim face, that whatever secret he had gripping his soul, it was connected with something that lay hidden down in the cellar of the abandoned inn. They could hear him moving around after that, but he no longer came within the radius of their vision; those cracks had served their purpose fairly well, but there was a limit to their range. Lanky fussed a bit, moving restlessly, discontented because he could no longer keep his eyes on the man. Frank almost feared his impetuous chum might feel inclined to creep over to the head of the stairs, in the hope of once more glimpsing Zeke and discovering what he was busy doing. To avoid the possibility of unpleasant consequences, Frank laid a restraining hand on Lanky's arm. Just then they again caught a fleeting glimpse of the man, who was heading toward the outer door. Evidently he had accomplished whatever mission it was that had brought him hurrying back, and was now making ready to gallop off. This caused the boys more or less satisfaction. While Zeke was below there must always be a chance of discovery. If he had such a deep interest in what happened to lie in the cellar, why should this concern not go farther and cause him to start up-stairs? But the suspense was about over, now that he had commenced to take his departure. Once again did the trio creep across the shaky floor to the window, so as to watch his going. "There he is," whispered Lanky, breaking what had been a long and agonizing silence for a boy who liked to hear himself talk as much as he did. "Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest. So long, Zeke! Your room is better'n your company!" "Hold on, Lanky," said Paul, very softly. "You're talking through your hat, I'm afraid. He's stopped right over there, turned his pony, and is sitting with one leg up over the pommel of his saddle, watching this same old house like a hawk. Do you think he suspects we're around?" "Not on your life, Paul! I don't know why he keeps on sitting there, and looking so mighty well satisfied with himself; but like as not it's got something to do with his coming back." "He's got a rifle across his knee," continued Paul, "and you'd think he was planning to throw a few bullets into this shack." "Oh, rats! Nothing like that is going to happen!" sneered Lanky, for the horseman was far enough away to prevent their low voices from reaching his ears. "He's just taking a last look at the rookery here, that's all. "What sort of a crackling sound was that just then?" demanded Paul suspiciously. "Didn't happen to catch anything. What did it sound like?" asked Lanky, carelessly enough and continuing to watch the sitting Zeke. "Just like you'd started your cooking fire, Lanky. And say, I smell smoke right now, I tell you!" "That settles the question of why he's hanging around so!" exclaimed Frank. "He's set fire to this old hotel, and wants to see it blaze up!"