“A Scout’s word is to be trusted, eh?”
“It is.”
“Okay,” Walz retorted triumphantly. “Then tell me the truth—no more of your double talk. You came here to find more than an address.”
“Perhaps we did,” the Scout leader rejoined. “As I recollect, you made a rather careful search of this cabin yourself.”
“That’s different,” Walz said, immediately on the defensive. “Stony was my workman. You are strangers here.”
“You have a point,” Mr. Livingston conceded, determined not to argue. “I suggest you lock the cabin door.”
“It’s like locking the barn after the horse is stolen!” Walz said, eying the Scout leader calculatingly. “You’re deliberately hiding something! I think you came here to find the old man’s gold!”
“Why, you—” War exclaimed, half lunging at the motel owner.
Ken and Jack restrained him.
“Spunky little tiger, aren’t you?” Walz demanded with a hard, mirthless laugh.