There was an old alarm clock, rusty with age and disuse, a mirror, several gaudy articles of jewelry that looked as if they might have been found in ten-cent prize packages, a telephone receiver, a broken fishing rod that stood lamely against the wall as though ashamed of its own decrepit state, a sawdust doll, an empty tin can that evidently had once contained bait, a talcum powder box full of scented violet talc—Billie smelled it—and—but it would take too long to name all the strange things that Billie and Teddy found there in the corner of the funny little cave. “Teddy,” murmured Billie as the boy’s match burnt out and he struck another one, “what do you think these things are for? Who do you suppose owns them?” “How should I know?” asked Teddy, getting to his feet and looking eagerly about the place, illumined fitfully by the flare of the match. “Somebody comes here often, that’s a sure thing. And judging by those things,” he waved toward the conglomeration of junk in the corner, “he must be pretty simple.” “Oh, Teddy!” breathed Billie, moving closer to him. “Suppose he should come and find us here?” Teddy looked down at her with a grin. “Why worry?” he asked. “Haven’t you got your Uncle Ted?” He had scarcely spoken when there came a terrifying sound. It was a snarl of rage, half-animal, half-human. The half-burned match dropped from Teddy’s fingers. They were in the dark. CHAPTER XI—THE SIMPLETON Billie did not cry out. She was either too frightened or too brave. But the next minute Teddy’s arm had reached out and caught her to him reassuringly. “It’s all right,” he whispered in her ear. “Just hold tight and keep still. I’ll do the talking.” Cautiously he drew her to the back of the cave, and there they turned and waited for whatever was to happen. They did not have to wait long. Some one or something was coming into the cave. There was a growling and muttering in the tunnel-like entrance and the sounds increased as the intruder came slowly nearer. Then there came a stumbling sound, followed by a coarse oath that made Billie clap her hands to her ears. “It’s a man, anyway,” Teddy whispered, adding maliciously: “Stubbed his toe on that old pitcher, I guess. Glad of it.” “Oh, Teddy, hush,” whispered Billie frantically. “He’ll hear you.” Evidently the intruder had heard them. He stopped short as though listening. Billie and Teddy could distinctly hear his heavy breathing while they held their own. Then a hoarse, strident voice challenged them. “Who are ye?” it cried, menacingly. “Whoever y’are ye’ve got to git out. I’ll teach ye to go breakin’ into my cave and meddlin’ with my things. Come out o’thet, will ye?” For answer, Teddy lighted a match, holding it high above his head while he studied the intruder. The latter, evidently startled by the sudden light, staggered back a little and flung his hand before his eyes.