"Aw, you!" said Anderson Crow in deep scorn. The next instant a stalwart young fellow stood before the marshal, who was eyeing him keenly, even imperiously. The newcomer's good-looking, strong-featured face was lighted up by a smile of surpassing friendliness. "It's lonesome as thunder down here, isn't it? Glad to see you, gentlemen. What's up--a bicycle race?" "No, sir; we got a little business up here, that's all," responded Anderson Crow diplomatically. "What air you doin' here?" "Skating. My name is Wicker Bonner, and I'm visiting my uncle, Congressman Bonner, across the river. You know him, I dare say. I've been hanging around here for a week's hunting, and haven't had an ounce of luck in all that time. It's rotten! Aha, I see that you are an officer, sir--a detective, too. By George, can it be possible that you are searching for some one? If you are, let me in on it. I'm dying for excitement." The young man's face was eager and his voice rang true. Besides, he was a tall, athletic chap, with brawny arms and a broad back. Altogether, he would make a splendid recruit, thought Anderson Crow. He was dressed in rough corduroy knickerbockers, the thick coat buttoned up close to his muffled neck. A woollen cap came down over his ears and a pair of skates dangled from his arm. "Yes, sir; I'm a detective, and we are up here doin' a little investigatin'. You are from Chicago, I see." "What makes you think so?" "Can't fool me. I c'n always tell. You said, 'I've _bean_ hangin',' instead of 'I've _ben_ hangin'.' See? They say _bean_ in Chicago. Ha! ha! You didn't think I could deduce that, did you?" "I'll confess that I didn't," said Mr. Bonner with a dry smile. "I'm from Boston, however." "Sure," interposed Isaac Porter; "that's where the beans come from, Anderson." "Well, that's neither here nor there," said Mr. Crow, hastily changing the subject. "We're wastin' time." "Stayin' here, you mean?" asked Ed Higgins, quite ready to start. Involuntarily the eyes of the posse turned toward the house among the willows. The stranger saw the concerted glance and made inquiry. Whereupon Mr. Crow, assisted by seven men and five small boys, told Mr. Wicker Bonner, late of Harvard, what had brought them from Tinkletown to the haunted house, and what they had seen upon their arrival. Young Bonner's face glowed with the joy of excitement. "Great!" he cried, fastening his happy eyes upon the hated thing among the trees. "Let's search the place. By George, this is glorious!" "Not on your life!" said Ed Higgins. "You can't get me inside that house. Like as not a feller'd never come out alive." "Well, better men than we have died," said Mr. Bonner tranquilly. "Come on; I'll go in first. It's all tommy-rot about the place being haunted. In any event, ghosts don't monkey around at this time of day. It's hardly dusk." "But, gosh dern it," exploded Anderson Crow, "we seen it!" "I seen it first," said Isaac Porter proudly.