“Well—what are you—going to do—about it?” gasped Slade with his first returning breath.
“First of all we’re going to ask what you are doing on our property,” replied Ned, sternly. “If your answers aren’t satisfactory to us, we will take you back to Truesdell and turn you over to the police.”
“All right then, if you want the truth, I was just hiding out here to scare you fellows—just for the fun of it,” sneered Slade, at the same time flexing his great muscles in a testing strain on the strap which bound his arms.
“It’s no use pulling at that belt,” advised Dick. “That’s the same belt you fooled with once before. It beat you then and it’s going to be too much for you this time.”
Slade received the taunt with an ugly scowl and turned to Ned Blake. “Well, now that you’ve heard my explanation, what do you say?” he demanded.
“Why, I’d say that as an explanation it leaves too many things unaccounted for,” replied Ned, evenly.
“What things?” growled Slade.
“Oh, little matters—like phony letters, and warnings, and ghost tricks, all calculated to interfere with our business,” suggested Ned. “We want to know what your object was.”
“Just like I told you a minute ago,” persisted Slade. “I was trying to scare you fellows off the place. I worked it with the nigger, but—”
“Who sent you out here?” interrupted Beals.