Snadder’s mind, always seeking that which was crooked, now thought the boys had no more right here than he and Blinky. And he mentioned the fact, suggesting that all of them bunk here together.
“We can bring in your wood for you and do any other heavy jobs,” he ended the suggestion.
“Nothing doing!” Frank declared. “We have a right here. The owner of this place gave us permission to camp here, and we’re surely going to do it. And more—she’s a friend of ours and we’re going to protect all of her property, too.”
“Aw, come on, partner,” argued Snadder. “You boys will need somebody to watch the place while you’re fishing or hunting. And there is other work we can do.”
“Not to-day, thank you!” Frank was firm. “I am sorry that you have to get out where it’s cooler, but you’ve got to go. If you had acted decently in here it might have been different.”
“If you drive us out of here we’ll get even with you,” threatened the tall man, Snadder.
This remark was too much for Lanky Wallace, who had allowed all the conversation to go along without saying anything. But he broke in at this juncture:
“Listen, Snadder! You’re just fixing things so as to get yourself into a peck of trouble. If we see either of you fellows around doing any mischief, or if we see you sneaking around this place, I’ll promise you it won’t go easy with either one of you.”
With this he bristled over close to the tramps, and they started moving for the door.
There was a short hickory handle lying on a chair near the door, and as they approached it Snadder snatched up the handle in a flash and hurled it squarely at the group of boys.