“I don’t remember you,” the boy said, suspiciously.
“I’m Flint,” reminded the other. “I worked in the mine for Dave.”
“I was a little chap, and didn’t know the miners,” Don hastened to say, for he was nervous under the evil eyes of the fellow who called himself Flint and claimed acquaintance.
“Uncle died after you left,” Flint continued, and Don nodded.
“You’ve come back to look up his property?”
Don hesitated, but decided to tell the exact truth.
“I came back to see the country, and if there is anything here that belongs to me I’ll take it away with me.”
“There’s nothing here,” Flint said, with a scowl. “A man named Frost came and took everything there was in the house.”
“And the papers?” asked Don. “Where are they?”
“He took them also. He hunted for a buried treasure until he got the whole county to laughing at him! I reckon Dave didn’t have any treasure to hide when he died! He was as poor as the rest of us.”