“I’ll tell you what I think,” ventured Billy as they were making for outdoors once more.  “Like as not that same family of owls has been responsible for a lot of that silly talk about this place being haunted.  People imagine all sorts of things, you know, when they don’t understand queer sounds.”

“Yes,” retorted Alec, with a chuckle, “that’s so, they do, Billy; and I’ve known them to pull their heads under blankets.  It’s all very well for you to talk so bravely when the sun’s shining overhead; but everybody knows how different things look and seem at midnight.  We’ll forgive you this time, Billy, because the rest of us, all but Hugh perhaps, were in something of the same boat, I’m afraid.”

The photographic work went on apace, and as Alec had in times past proven his abilities in this line, he was apparently justified in believing that success was going to crown his present efforts.

“I tell you Aunt Susan will be tickled half to death when she gets prints of these pictures,” he remarked again and again as he worked, never missing a single object that he considered would lend additional enchantment to the views.  “I ought to consider myself mighty lucky to be presented with such a dandy camera as this.  I’ve made sure to fetch my daylight developing tank along with me, because if any of the exposures turn out to be poor ones I’ll have another chance to duplicate the same tomorrow morning, even if it is Sunday.”

“So far,” observed Monkey Stallings, with a chuckle of satisfaction, “there isn’t any sign of those two hoboes turning up here again—–­which pleases me a heap, let me tell you.”

“Oh! no danger of them coming back again,” Billy assured him.  “They got the scare of their lives when you tooted that goose-call.  Long before now that brace of tramps has struck the railroad ties, and are making tracks for other regions where they don’t have old castles haunted by spooks.”

The last picture was finally taken.  Alec seemed satisfied with what he had done.

“I’ve got two rolls of film left,” he explained, “which I’m going to hold for an emergency.  You never know what may happen when you’re taking pictures.  Something is apt to come along that you would give a heap to get, and if you’re out of films you feel like kicking yourself.”

“You’ve got a long head on your shoulders, Alec,” commented Arthur.  “I guess you must believe in the old saying that ’an ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure.’”

“Also,” added Billy drily, “that in times of plenty it’s wise to lay in a stock against the dry spell that’s coming.  I’ve been there myself, and ought to know what it means to go hungry just because you’ve been careless.  That’s one reason I always try to put in a spoonful of coffee for every fellow, and then add one for the pot.”

That was always the way with Billy; he seemed to view almost every subject as inevitably connected with the one absorbing idea of supply and demand.  By this time these good chums of his knew his weakness so well that they generally let such allusions pass unnoticed.