“Sold!” he muttered, laconically. “Sold, and just when I thought I had it!”
“What have you found, Joe?” came in Harry’s voice, and a moment later his brother came up.
“Here is Hiram Skeetles’ pocketbook—but it is empty.”
“You don’t say!” Harry looked at the object a moment. “Was it hanging like that when you first saw it?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps the contents dropped out, or was shaken out by the wind.”
“To be sure.” Joe went down on his knees at the roots of the bush and began to scrape away the snow. “I hope we do find something.”
Harry began to assist, and soon the snow was gone and they began to dig in among the dead leaves and sticks. Then Joe hauled up several cards with Hiram Skeetles’ name on them and a memorandum of some property located near the lake.
“Here is something belonging to old Skeetles,” said he.
“Here is another paper,” said Harry. “It’s a bill of sale for a town lot,” he added, looking it over hastily.