“But my name is Ted Strong.”

“Aw, come off.”

“All right, if you don’t believe me, ask me any questions you like to prove it.”

“Where do you come from?”

“Moon Valley, South Dakota.”

“That’s right.  What’s the names of some of Ted Strong’s fellers?”

Ted named them all, the boy giving a nod after every name.

“Now, what’s the name of your horse?  The one you ride most?”

“Sultan.  You seem to know something about me.”

“You bet.  Well, maybe you’re all right, but what are you doing here?  I always thought you stayed out West—­away out West.”

“Usually I do.”

“Then what are you doing in the haunted house?”

“Is this a haunted house?”

“You bet.  There was a feller killed there once, and nobody will live in it no more.”

“Honest, now, what is your name?”

“My name’s—­ Say, are you sure enough Ted Strong?”

“Certainly I am.”

The boy came closer, looking at Ted fixedly.

“Gee, I wouldn’t go inter that house fer a hundred million dollars.”

“I’ve been here all night, and it didn’t scare me any.”

“That settles it.  I reckon you must be Ted Strong.  He’s the only feller I ever heard of that wouldn’t be scared to stay in a haunted house.  How did you get there?”

Without hesitation, Ted told the boy how he had been held up by a man in an automobile, and knocked out by ammonia fumes, and then locked up in the house.  But he said nothing about the murdered man in the next room.

“Now I’ve told you all about myself, it’s only fair that you should tell me about yourself.”

“Oh, I ain’t nothin’.  I’m just ‘Scrub.’”

“Haven’t you got any other name?”

“Nary one that I know of that’s fastened to me all the time.”

“How’s that?”

“When I’m living with old man Jones, I’m Scrub Jones, and when I’m with Mr. Foster, I’m Scrub Foster, and that way.  I don’t belong to nobody, an’ I just live around doing chores for my keep.  Just now I ain’t got no place to stop, and I’m sleeping in hay-stacks and living on apples and turnips and potatoes, when I make a fire and bake ’em, and once in a while I trap a rabbit.  But, gee, what a good time you must have!”

“How would you like to go with me out to Moon Valley?”

“Aw, quit your kiddin’.”

“I mean it I’d just like to take you out there and give you a good time for once in your life.”

“Would you?  By golly, you can.”

“Then I’ll tell you what to do.  Go around to the front door and come in, and back to this room, and unlock the door and let me out, and we’ll go together.”

“Gee, I wouldn’t go into that house for four thousand barrels of hoarhound candy.  Say, are you a prisoner?”

“I am, and if you don’t come in and let me out I can’t take you with me to Moon Valley.”