Phil looked with interest at the old gray house that could be seen more clearly now that they were approaching it. When they were still some distance from the lane, however, Frank brought his motorcycle to a stop and signaled to the others to do likewise. “What’s the idea?” Chet asked. “We’d better sneak up on the place quietly. If we go any farther they’ll hear the motorcycles—that is, if there is any one at the place. We’ll leave them here under the trees and go ahead on foot.” The motorcycles were accordingly hidden in a clump of bushes beside the road and the six boys went on toward the lane. “We’ll separate here,” Frank decided. “Three of us will take one side of the lane and the rest will take the other side. Keep to the bushes as much as possible and when we get near the house lay low for a while and watch the place. When I whistle we can come out from under cover and go on up to the house.” “That’s a good plan,” approved Tony. “Joe and Biff and I, we’ll go on the left side of the road.” “Good. Chet and Phil and I will take the other side. Remember to keep out of sight of the house as much as possible.” The boys entered the lane, then separated according to the agreement they had made. One group plunged into the weeds and undergrowth at the edge of the lane on one side while the others pushed into the bushes at the opposite side. In a few minutes each group was lost to view and only an occasional snapping and crackling of branches indicated their presence in the heavy undergrowth that flanked the lane. Frank advanced cautiously. The brushwood was much deeper than he had anticipated and they made slow progress, for he was desirous of creeping up on the house with as little noise as possible. The undergrowth was thick and hampered their movements. They made their way forward, step by step, keeping well in from the lane, and after about ten minutes Frank raised his hand as a warning to the others. Through the dense thickets he had caught a glimpse of the house. They went on cautiously until they reached the edge of the bushes and there they crouched behind the screen of leaves, peeping out at the gloomy old stone building in the clearing. But at the first glance, an expression of surprise crossed Frank’s face. The Polucca house was evidently occupied! The weeds that had overgrown the yard on their last visit had been completely cleared away, the grass had been cut and the tumble-down fence had been repaired. The gate, which had been hanging by one hinge, had been fixed and the grass along the pathway had been trimmed. A similar change had overtaken the house. There was glass in all the windows and the boards had been removed. The front door had been repaired and the steps had been mended. Smoke was rising from the kitchen chimney. “There must be some one living here,” whispered Chet. Frank was puzzled.