“Why don’t you get out and pole the boats over?”
“Oh, there’ll be plenty of men besides me to do that little thing,” replied Coleman. “Besides, I’ve poled some of them over until I am all tired out.”
“Well, get up, if you can. I want to see you.”
“Anything particular?”
“You will think so when you hear it,” replied Smith, impatiently. “Kick some of those dogs out of the way and come along with me.”
Coleman arose with an effort, laid the children carefully aside and followed after Smith, who led the way around on the outside of the lean-to, being particular to keep out of sight of Mr. Sprague at the other end of the street. There he threw himself down upon the leaves and waited for Coleman to join him.
“Sit up closer—not so far off,” he said, when the man halted at least five feet away. “I have got something in particular that I want to say to you, and I don’t want anybody to overhear it.”
“It seems to me that you are mighty friendly, now that the old man is dead and you have come into his fortune,” said Coleman, moving up closer. “How much did you make out of that? I think I have heard you say that you wanted as much as twenty-five or thirty thousand dollars.”
“That’s what I said,” answered Smith, frowning fiercely. “But the trouble is I have not got it.”
“Who has got it, then?” demanded Coleman, looking surprised.