“Your hammer and spikes?” cried the doctor, wonderingly. “What for?”
“To lock up your doors and windows here, same as I’m going to do mine.”
“Oh, I see,” said the doctor. “Yes, I expect we shall.”
“Didn’t find no customers then, sir?”
“Customers?” cried the doctor querulously. “Every one wanted to sell. My impression was that not one settler we broached the subject to would have taken our plantation as a gift.”
“That’s about how it stands, sir,” said Griggs. “They wouldn’t. Why should they? It would only make them more work and less profit. You do as I do, sir—I mean, as I’m going to do: nail up the doors and shutters. I don’t suppose any one would meddle with the shanty. If he did he couldn’t take away the land, so it would be here all right if you ever came back and wanted it, which isn’t likely, is it?”
“Not at all,” said Bourne emphatically.
“Didn’t say you were going gold-hunting, I s’pose, sir?” asked Griggs.
“Not exactly.”
“Then some one did ask questions?”