“Oh, it's you, is it?” said Ford, contemptuously.
He had thought it might be Dr. Stone, whom he was less inclined to face than he professed.
“Yes, it is. What are you doing here?”
“It is none of your business, you cub. He's got to come with me.”
“Maybe you want me, too?”
“I wouldn't take you as a gift.”
“Ho, ho,” laughed Abner, “I reckon you'd find me a tough customer. You won't take bub, either.”
“Who is to prevent me?”
“I will!” said a new voice, and Grant Thornton, who had fallen in with Abner outside, walked quietly into the room.
Willis Ford started back in dismay. Grant was the last person he expected to meet here. He had no idea that any one of the boy's home friends had tracked him this far. He felt that he was defeated, but he hated to acknowledge it.