Curly Joe's life had centered around the same tree for several years. He would often stare down into the valley and wonder what was beyond those trees on the other side of the field. Many times he had imagined that the woods were full of monsters ready to make their assault upon the house at any moment. For the most part, though, life was pretty drab. Then one morning a long, black sedan pulled up into the yard and parked next to the old man's pickup. A sophisticated lady in a business suit got out of the car and opened the back door. A young boy with flaming, red hair got out and looked in Curly Joe's direction. "This is where you will spend the summer," explained the lady in the business suit. "The Friedans will be your foster parents." As soon as he was unpacked, Pete was ready to untie Curly Joe and start exploring the woods. However, Mr. Friedan warned him about the squatter's cabin. "Legend has it that an old Indian died in there about a hundred and fifty years ago," explained Mr. Friedan. "Everyone who enters it never comes back."
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