As Bob and I quietly stepped into the creepy, dark living room of this deserted house, my heart started pounding wildly.  I felt like it was going to explode at any second.  But Bob didn't seem to be bothered by the strange surroundings.  He snooped around the room like a detective who knew what he was doing, checking every tiny crack and corner, as he searched for a clue to the location of the map. 

              I really didn't believe there was such a map because we had heard about this “so called map” from Buster Reilly, a big, dorky kid at school.  Buster was the kind of kid who always shot his mouth off, and most of the time put his foot in it.  But Bob thought this particular story had a lot of truth in it, even if Buster was telling it.  Then again, maybe Bob was just looking for a good reason to check out this spooky old house.

              Buster said the story goes back about two hundred years when the house was first built.  It was soon after the Revolutionary War had ended.  The owner of the house was kicked out of our new country because he was still loyal to the King of England.  Americans called people like him Tories.   During the war, Tories helped the King’s soldiers.  (These British soldiers were called Redcoats - soldiers who wore bright red uniforms.)  Well, the colonists did not like England or the Tories very much after the war, so they grabbed the owner, tarred and feathered him, and sent him on a ship back to England.  They didn't even allow him to take his furniture or personal items.  Actually, he was lucky that he was able to keep the shirt on his back, which was totally covered with sticky tar and feathers.  Anyway, the ship hit a terrible storm and sank before it reached England.

          Today, some people say the owner's ghost shows up at his house every once in a while.  Former owners who had lived in this house had seen some sort of glowing spirit.  And because of the story, they named the ghost "The Tory."  They also say the Tory comes back to his house looking for the map he left behind - a map to a secret treasure somewhere in this area.

                Even if there was a hidden map, I didn't believe Buster's story, and I sure didn't believe in ghosts, but I did believe that things always did go wrong when Bob was around.  I could feel it in my bones.

                Bob and I walked from room to room searching and checking out every little corner.  Soon the sun started to set and it was hard to see where we were walking.  Once again, I said that we should leave - this time because of the darkness - but Bob whipped out a giant flashlight that was hanging from his utility belt.  Bob had an answer to every problem, and that utility belt buckled around his waist had over one hundred different gadgets tied to it.  

                
     Our search brought us to a narrow stairway leading to a tiny room in the attic of the house.  The steps seemed to groan in pain as we slowly walked up the stairs on tiptoes.  After reaching the top of the stairs, we entered a room covered with sticky cobwebs.  The splintered door leading to the room creaked noisily as Bob pushed it.  Torn curtains kept most of the sunlight from the stuffy room.  Cracks in the plaster walls looked like huge open mouths ready to swallow us up.  The rickety, old furniture was broken and completely covered with dust. 

               As we carefully looked around, we heard a low, moaning sound.  We smiled and our eyes met, each of us thinking it was the other's stomach growling because it was close to suppertime, but when we heard the sound become louder, my smile quickly disappeared.  The strange noise seemed to come from a tiny closet at the far end of the room.  

                 Once again, I said we should leave this place, but, as usual, Bob wouldn't listen.  My teacher said that a natural sense of curiosity ran through Bob's veins.  A natural sense of fear was running through mine, and I wanted to get out of there, now! 

                 Bob opened the closet door slowly.  We couldn't see anything until he shined his light into the darkness, and there, standing right in front of us, was a tall, dark figure. The two of us couldn't move.  Who or what was this?  It looked like the figure of a man, but he wasn't dressed in modern, everyday clothing.  It looked more like a mannequin dressed in clothes from the 1700's.  Could this be the ghost of "The Tory?" 

                 Shocked and frozen stiff, we both stared at the tall figure.  There was no movement, and it seemed to be harmless.  Was this thing real, or someone's idea of a sick joke?  Its face was cold and pale.  Its faded clothes were torn, and its hair was tangled and twisted.  A tight fist held an old, dusty rolled paper.   

               Could this be the map we had been searching for?  Bob and I looked at each other.  I knew what he was thinking.  Bob's curiosity was getting the better of him.  I could, without a doubt, see that he wanted - almost needed - to see if the creature in front of us held the map.  We both knew that I wasn't about to touch it, so Bob reached out, and ever so gently, pulled on the paper hoping to remove it from the tight fist.

               As usual, he had no luck - it wouldn't budge.  Why should things start to go smoothly now?  I figured we had been lucky, so far, up to this point, but some "bad news" was out there somewhere waiting to strike.  I closed my eyes, wishing to be in another place - any other place - when I reopened them.   

Answer the following questions in complete sentences.

1.  From whom did the boys hear the story of the map?

2.  Why did Marty believe this story to be untrue?

3.  What did they call people in our country who were loyal to the King of England?

4.  During what war did this story take place?

5.  What was the name of the ghost who lived in the house?

6.  What did Bob carry around his waste that was the answer to every problem?

7.  What did the boys find in the attic?  Describe it.