"Well, they say 'dirty work makes clean money,'" cried Randy. "And I guess a lot of these men don't care how much they muss up the scenery and muss up themselves so long as they get good fat bank accounts out of it."
At length they came in sight of the Lorimer Spell tract, and they were both surprised and interested at the activity being displayed there. A gang of at least thirty men were at work, some around a well which was being sunk and others in erecting several buildings.
"They certainly mean business," remarked Jack, as they came to a halt near the bank of the little brook which flowed through one of the corners of the property. "You've got to give them credit—they didn't let the grass grow under their feet."
"I wonder if they are using their own money or whether they got some outsiders to invest," mused Fred.
Not wishing to get into any altercation with the workers, the Rovers kept at a distance. They saw Tate and Jackson among the men. Each was giving orders, and both seemed to be in charge of the operations. Carson Davenport was not visible.
One small building was already complete, and this was being used as an office. The door stood open, and presently a young fellow came out, lighting a cigarette as he did so.
"Hello, there is Nappy Martell!" exclaimed Andy.
Martell stood leaning against the corner of the building, smoking his cigarette and gazing idly at the workmen. Then he chanced to glance around and caught sight of the Rovers. He at once poked his head back into the building and said something to someone inside.
"He's coming this way," announced Fred.
"Yes, and there is Slugger Brown behind him," added Randy.