“I’m going to look through the old house,” Don said. “There may be something there this man Frost overlooked. By the way, I think I know this man Frost. But what right had he to come here and remove the property?”
“He had some kind of a writing, he said. I never saw it.”
“Do you know where he came from?” asked Don, then. “From Chicago?”
“He said he lived in Chicago,” was the evasive reply.
“Well,” Don concluded, “I’m going to tear the old house down, if it is necessary to do so to find the papers I want.”
“The old house belongs to me and Ike, here,” with a nod at his companion, “and we wouldn’t like to have it torn down.”
“Who gave it to you?” demanded the boy, angrily.
“I got it from this man Frost. He sold it to me. I let Ike in on a half interest, so, as I was sayin’, I wouldn’t like to have it torn down—not right away! In fact, I’ll shoot any person that even tries to get into it. Nothing personal, lad! I just speak generally.”
“Will you give me permission to look through it?” asked Don.
“I can’t see as it would do you any good to look through it. There is nothing there but dust and a few living things, such as dishes and the like. You wouldn’t care to see them, I take it.”