“Come right in,” Mrs. Fenton answered. The man climbed out clumsily, and right behind him came a smaller man who had been completely concealed by his companion.
“This is a blasted neck of the woods,” the big fellow bellowed.
“Let’s sit over here,” Bob suggested. He didn’t think the newcomer added anything attractive to the prevailing discomfort. The fellow talked and cussed the weather, but the small man didn’t utter a word. It wasn’t until they were eating that he ventured to speak.
“I told you, Burnam, this was a fool’s errand,” he declared. The big man brought his fist down on the table so hard that the china jumped.
“Don’t I know you did. Well, I’m telling you that they are hiding somewhere around here, understand, and I’m going to find them. You can get on the train and go to blazes if you like, see!” The words and the tone made the boys jump, then Jim gripped Bob’s arm.
“Shhhhsss.” He pointed to the end of the veranda. Bob looked and was surprised to see Corso standing like a statue close to the step. He looked as if something had struck him paralyzed, but he recovered himself in a second, leaped nimbly to the veranda, stepped with amazing swiftness to the window and cautiously peeped in. It was just one brief glance he got of the room and the tourists, but it seemed to be enough. He jumped lightly as a cat to the ground, crouched, then disappeared around the corner of the house.
“What do you know about that,” Bob exclaimed, then added quickly, “Don’t tell me to ask you another. Let’s go up and get our clothes on.”
X
DANGER!!
“I say, Jim, that was a queer thing for Corso to do!” The two were putting the finishing touches on their toilet. From the dining room came the voice of the man called Burnam, who seemed to do considerable talking while he ate, but if his companion spoke again, his words were inaudible.
“Yes. Listen, Buddy, I think Corso knows that lad down there.”