“Won’t there be some danger?” asked someone.
“Not a bit. There’s only one hitch. I’ve been looking the thing up, and I find that the most valuable strip of land in the whole tract is owned by some man up New York State.”
“Who is he?”
“Something like Pexter or Wexter,” was the reply, whereat Larry felt his heart beating strongly. Suppose it should happen to be the land for which his mother held the deed?
“Can we put the deal through?” several asked of the man who was doing the most talking.
“Sure we can,” was the answer. “Alderman——”
“Hush! Not so loud!” cautioned a voice.
“Close that transom,” ordered someone, and then Larry moved away, fearing the men might come out, and find him listening. He wanted to know more of the matter, for he felt sure some underhanded game was afoot.
That afternoon, on the way home, Larry told Mr. Newton of what he had heard.
“I’ll bet there’s some sort of a deal on,” said the older reporter. “Glad you happened to overhear that, Larry. I’ll get busy on the tip, and maybe we can block the game.”