Andy had listened to the conversation with bated breath. So far as worldly experience went he was but a boy, yet he realized that, in some way, this Mr. A. Q. Hopton was trying to swindle him out of his inheritance, and that his Uncle Si was willing to aid the schemer just for the sake of getting possession of the three hundred dollars.
As his uncle arose to enter the room in which his nephew slept, the boy slipped into the cabin. Like a flash he darted to his bedroom, jumped inside, and shut and bolted the door after him.
“Hi there! What’s this?” cried the real estate dealer, in astonishment.
“It’s—it’s the boy, my nevvy!” gasped Josiah Graham. “He come in through the back door! He must have been a-listenin’ to our talk.”
“Is that so? That’s too bad.” The real estate agent was dazed by the sudden turn of affairs. “He had a gun with him.”
“Yes, he took it with him when he went for work.” Josiah Graham walked over to the door and tried it. “Andy, open that door.”
“I will not,” was the answer.
“Was you a-listenin’ to our talk?”
“I was.”
“Humph! Nice thing fer a boy to do!”