"Did you see anything of a wild man?" asked Vincent, joining Bruce Duncan. "That's about the best way to describe the fellow we're after."
"You look rather wild yourselves," observed the man in a gruff voice. "You're on private property, too. What's the idea of coming in here this way?"
"It's the wild man," explained Duncan angrily. "He came this way. You must have seen him."
The man on the porch thrust his chin forward.
"You're telling me what I've seen?" he asked in a significant voice. "Listen, young fellow. You're a trespasser. Get that? Move along before I plug you."
He raised the shotgun in a threatening manner.
The farmer intervened.
"Just forget that shotgun, stranger," he said. "This ain't your property. I live around here. I know."
"I'm renting it," declared the man on the porch.
"From whom? I'll bet you're squatting here. This is Seth Wilkinson's property. Seth's a friend of mine. Lives in Harrisburg. If you don't want trespassers, where's your notice?"