"Flour," Harry answered. "A seventy-pound bag, if you've got it. Some pork, too—you know the piece we take. You might send them down to the beach, if there's anybody in the place who's not afraid of carrying a flour bag."
The storekeeper smiled and strolled casually toward the window. Coming back he leaned upon the counter.
"Your aunt's mighty particular about her pork," he said, raising his voice a little. "Better come along into the back store and see what I've got."
They followed him into a smaller room, where he first of all threw several big slabs of pork down upon a board, making, it seemed to Frank, as much noise as possible.
"Twelve pounds in this lot," he said loudly, then lowering his voice: "Those fellows outside haven't gone and I don't want them to hear. You haven't found your horses yet?"
Harry admitted that they had not done so, and the man nodded gravely.
"Well," he said, "I guess they'll turn up presently. I couldn't tell your father that because there were other folks in the store when he handed me the notice. What I want to say is that he's not wise in bluffing the boys. You had better tell him that's my opinion."
"How much do you know about the thing?" Harry asked directly.
"Very little, but I can guess a good deal. Quite enough, anyway, to convince me that you folks had better lie quiet, and let the boys alone."
Harry glanced scornfully toward the veranda.