Chapter One
The New Guests
Keith, the boy in the rumpled shorts and shirt, did not
know he was being watched as he entered room 215 of the
Mountain View Inn. Neither did his mother and father, who
both looked hot and tired. They had come from Ohio and for
five days had driven across plains and deserts and over
mountains to the old hotel in the California foothills
twenty-five miles from Highway 40.
The fourth person entering room 215 may have known he was
being watched, but he did not care. He was Matt, sixty if
he was a day, who at the moment was the bellboy. Matt also
replaced wornout light bulbs, renewed washers in leaky
faucets, carried trays for people who telephoned room
service to order food sent to their rooms, and sometimes
prevented children from hitting one another with croquet
mallets on the lawn behind the hotel.
Now Matt's right shoulder sagged with the weight of one of
the bags he was carrying. "Here you are, Mr. Gridley.
Rooms 215 and 216," he said, setting the smaller of the
bags on a luggage rack at the foot of the double bed
before be opened a door into the next room. I expect you
and Mrs. Gridley will want room 216. It is a comer room
with twin beds and a private bath." He carried the heavy
bag into the next room where he could be heard opening
windows. Outside a chipmunk chattered in a pine tree and a
chickadee whistled fee-bee-bee.
The boy's mother looked critically around room 215 and
whispered, I think we should drive back to the main
highway. There must be a motel with a Vacancy sign
someplace. We didn't look long enough. "
"Not another mile" answered the father. "I'm not driving
another mile on a California highway on a holiday weekend.
Did you see the way that truck almost forced us off the
road?"
"Dad, did you see those two fellows on motorcycles-" began
the boy and stopped, realizing he should not interrupt an
argument.
" But this place is so old," protested the boys
mother. "And we have only three weeks for our whole trip.
We had planned to spend the Fourth of July weekend in San
Francisco and we wanted to show Keith as much of the
United States as we could."
San Francisco will have to wait and this is part of the
United States. Besides, this used to be a very fashionable
hotel," said Mr. Gridley. "People came from miles around."
"Fifty years ago," said Mrs. Gridley. "And they came by
horse and buggy."
The bellboy returned to room 215. "The dining room opens
at six-thirty, sir. There is ping-pong in the game room,
TV in the lobby, and croquet on the back lawn. I'm sure
you will be very comfortable." Matt, who had seen guests
come and go for many years, knew there were two kinds-
those who thought the hotel was a dreadful old barn of a
place and those who thought it charming and quaint, so
quiet and restful.
" Of course we will be comfortable," said Mr. Gridley,
dropping some coins into Matt's hand for carrying the bags.
"But this big old hotel is positively spooky." Mrs.
Gridley made one last protest. "It is probably full Of
mice."
Matt opened the window wide. "Mice? Oh no, ma I am. The
management wouldn't stand for mice.
"I wouldn't mind a few mice," the boy said, as he looked
around the room at the high ceiling, the knotty pine
walls, the carpet so threadbare that many of its roses had
almost entirely faded, the one chair with the antimacassar
on its back, the washbasin and towel racks in the comer of
the room. "I like it here," he announced.. "A whole room
to myself. Usually I just get a cot in the comer of a
motel room."
His mother smiled, relenting. Then she turned to Matt."I'm
sorry. It's just that it was so hot crossing Nevada and we
are not used to mountain driving. Back on the highway the
traffic was bumper to bumper. I'm sure we shall be very
comfortable."
After Matt bad gone, closing the door behind him, Mr.
Gridley said, I need a rest before dinner. Four hundred
miles of driving and that mountain traffic! It was too
much."
"And if we are going to stay for a weekend I had better
unpack," said Mrs. Gridley. "At least I'll have a chance
to do some drip-drying"
.
Alone in room 215 and unaware that he was being watched,
the boy began to explore. He got down on his hands and
knees and looked under the bed. He leaned out the open
window as far as he could and greedily inhaled deep
breaths of pine-scented air. He turned the hot and cold
water on and off in the washbasin and slipped one of the
small bars of paper-wrapped soap into his pocket. Under
the window he discovered a knothole in the pine wall down
by the floor and squatting, poked his finger into the
hole. When he felt nothing inside he lost interest.
Next Keith opened his suitcase and took out an apple and
several small cars-a sedan, a sports car, and an ambulance
about six inches long, and a red motorcycle half the
length of the cars-which he dropped on the striped
bedspread before he bit into the apple. He ate the apple
noisily in big chomping bites, and then laid the core on
the bedside table between the lamp and the telephone.
Keith began to play, running his cars up and down the
bedspread, pretending that the stripes on the spread were
highways and making noises with his mouth-vroom vroom for
the sports car, wh-e-e wh-e-e for the ambulance and pb-pb-
b-b-b for the motorcycle, up and down the stripes.
Once Keith stopped suddenly and looked quickly around the
room as is he expected to see something or someone but
hwne he saw nothing unusual he returned to his cars.
Vroom, vroom. Bang! Crash! The Sports car hit the sedan
and rolled off the highway stripe. Pb-pb-b-b-b-. The
motorcycle came roaring tot he scene of the crash.
"Keith," his mother called from the next room.
"Time to get washed for dinner."
"O.K." Keith parked his cars in a striaght line on the
bedside table beside the telephone where they looked like
a row of real cars only much, much smaller.
The first thing Mrs. Gridley noticed when she and Mr.
Gridley came into the room was the apple core on the
table. She dropped it with a thunk into the metal
wastebasket beside the table as she gave several quick
little sniffs of the air and said, looking perplexed, I
don't care what the bellboy said. I'm sure this hotel has
mice."
I hope so," muttered Keith.