Hotel for Dogs by Lois Duncan ch 13-2
Moving quietly, they crossed the lawn and stepped into the Gordons' side yard. The outlet was exactly where Bruce had thought it was. Tim plugged in the extension cord and attached the projector to the receiving end.
“I hope it's long enough,” Debbie whispered. “So do I,” Tim said. “I didn't realize the outlet would be quite so far from Jerry's window. We'll just have to see.” With Bruce carrying the projector, they continued along the wall of the house. The ground-level window of Jerry's room loomed ahead of him. When they reached it, they stopped.
“Are you sure this is his bedroom?” Andi asked doubtfully. “Does he really sleep in the basement?” “If you could see the room, you'd forget it was part of a basement,” Tim told her. “It's like a private rec room with a king-size bed in it.” Dropping to his knees, he pressed his face close to the window. “It's pitch black in there. He's sure to be sleeping. Are you ready with the projector?” “Ready,” Bruce said. Crouching beside Tim, he set the machine in place and felt in his pocket for the slide. For a moment he was afraid that he had not brought it with him. Then his fingers closed around it, and with a sigh of relief he inserted it into the carousel.
“Okay,” he said tensely. “We're ready. Let's hear it, Andi — the ghost of Red Rover! Loud enough to reach Jerry but not his parents.” Andi drew a deep breath. Then she opened her mouth and let out a howl. She started low, just as Preston had, and let the long, mournful wail rise in her throat, higher and higher. The result was so weird and chilling that Bruce felt shivers go up his spine even though he knew it was only his sister.
“Lean closer,” he whispered. “The window is open about halfway. Let him have it full blast. He's got to be an awfully heavy sleeper to sleep through that.” Crowding in between the two boys, Andi howled again, her mouth close to the opening in the window. From inside the room came a muffled, sleepy voice.
“What the heck — that crazy noise again —” “He's awake!” Debbie whispered excitedly. “Now, Bruce! Now!” Bruce pressed the button to turn on the projector. The beam of light shot through the window above Jerry's bed and fell upon the wall directly across from them. At first it was just a blur of light and color. In the reflected glow, they could see Jerry directly beneath the window, sitting up in bed.
“What's happening?” he demanded, the sleep gone from his voice. “What's that? Who — where —?” “Howl!” Bruce whispered, and Andi howled. It was the best howl so far. It rose and rose in a frightful wail and ended with a wild, tearing sound, like an animal in agonizing pain.
At the same instant, Bruce brought the projector into focus. The blur of light steadied, and into the middle of it, sharp and clear, came the face of Red Rover.
Bruce had snapped the picture with the dog looking straight into the camera lens. His proud head was lifted into the sunlight; his mouth was open slightly, showing straight white teeth. To Jerry it must have seemed as if Red's huge brown eyes were staring directly into his very soul. For a long moment there was no sound from the room in the basement. Then suddenly there was a great shriek. It was so loud and terrified that the four listeners, crouched on the ground outside the window, nearly jumped out of their skins.
“Mom!” Jerry yelled. “Dad! Help! Help! Come here quick!” The windows of the front room on the second floor went bright with lights. “Hurry, Bruce,” Tim whispered frantically. “His parents are up!” Bruce flicked off the light of the projector. “Run!” he whispered. “Run!” No one had to be told twice. The girls were already at the boundary line that separated the Gordons' house from Aunt Alice's. Tim was close behind them. Jerry's voice filled the darkness in frantic shouts for his parents. Scrambling to his feet, Bruce started after the others. He had almost caught up with them when he felt the projector jerked from his hands. To his horror, he heard it go crashing to the ground.
“Oh, no!” With a gasp of dismay, he knelt down and began groping about in the darkness. His hands closed upon the machine. He lifted it, and it rattled in his hands. A dark shape appeared beside him. Tim had come back to help.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I forgot to unplug it,” Bruce told him. “It was stupid, but when Jerry started yelling, I just ran. When I came to the end of the cord, the projector snapped out of my grip. I've smashed it.” “Well, there's no sense worrying now,” Tim said. “If it's broken, it's broken. Come on, let's get a move on! They'll be out here any minute to investigate.” The Gordons' house was ablaze with lights, upstairs and down. Every room seemed to have lights in it. Jerry's voice could still be heard shouting something about “Red's ghost! He's come back to get me!” Other voices, the soft mother tones, the lower father ones, floated across the lawn from the bedroom window. Bruce got to his feet, clutching the projector.
“This is Dad's,” he said. “And the cord —” He felt for the place where the electric cord fitted through the metal casing.
“Come on,” Tim urged him. “We've got to run, Bruce!” He whirled and broke away into the darkness with Bruce on his heels. Just as they rounded the corner of Aunt Alice's house, the door of the Gordons' house swung open. Mr. Gordon stepped out and flicked a switch that turned on floodlights, illuminating the whole backyard.
“Now we'll see what this monkey business is all about,” he said loudly. His voice carried clearly across the night to the four children who stood, panting in the shadows of Aunt Alice's rosebushes. “We made it,” Andi gasped. “He didn't see us.” There was a note of triumph in her voice. “No, he didn't see us,” Bruce said quietly, “but there's something else that he will see. The cord's been ripped out of the projector, and it's still attached to the extension cord, and that's in the outlet in the wall of the Gordons' house.”
