“Oh, Dad! That stuff makes my eyes water and I cough and sneeze—”
“All right. You don’t have to. I just thought maybe you were looking for something to do. You’ll have the hammock worn through by the end of the summer at the rate you’re using it.”
The telephone rang. Ronnie volunteered to answer it. He went into the hall at the foot of the stairs and lifted the receiver.
It was Bill, calling to tell Ronnie that he had to work that afternoon. “Pa’s mending some fences, and I got to help,” Bill said. “But Ronnie, somebody should be at the office, in case we get any tourists.”
Ronnie agreed that this was so. “I’ll hang around,” he answered.
After lunch, Ronnie went to the cold cellar and selected two apples, which he stuffed into his pockets. Then he went out to the barn to see how his father was getting on with the job of mixing spray. “I’ll help you, Dad,” he said, “if you really need help. Only I promised Bill I’d stay down at the village in case we got tourists.”
“Thanks, son,” his father answered. “I’ll get along all right. This is really a one-man job.”
Ronnie watched his father measure out the poison powder. “Dad? Gramps said I could have the key to the locked-up building.”
Mr. Rorth stopped long enough in his work to look up at the boy. “Oh?”
“Really, Pa. I told him about how somebody’s been in the building. Bill and I saw him again after I told you about it.”