“There was an older Mr. Latham once!” Ruth announced, sticking her head in from the door of her bedroom to join in the conversation. “But I don’t think he was a credit to the family. They are silent about him. I asked one of the girls we met this afternoon if Mr. Winthrop Latham and his nephew were all of the Latham family. Just as she started to tell me, Reginald Latham came up to us, and she stopped talking in a hurry.”
“Miss Ruth Stuart, I believe I was talking,” interrupted Grace severely. “Kindly allow me the floor! Mollie is most certainly not interested in the Latham family history. Who is? Nor does she care a fig for Mr. Reginald Latham and his toy balloons. But, Mollie, I was endeavoring to tell you about the wonderful curios they have in their house. The late lamented brother, we were informed, has left behind him one of the most famous collection of Indian relics in the world. If I am obliged to mention the stupid subject of family history, I must say that the Lathams are an old family up in this part of the country. They do not belong to the ‘newly rich.’ The queer elder brother devoted his life to the study of the history of the Indians in this part of the world, and has written a book about them.”
“Grace, have you finished making your speech?” inquired Ruth, with mock politeness. “Poor Mollie must be bored stiff with all this useless information. How did you spend the afternoon, dear? We have talked so much about coon hunts and Indian relics and the Lathams that you have had no chance to answer.”
“Oh, I took a nap!” responded Mollie, vaguely, and led the way into supper.
Late that evening, as the girls sat by the fire, they heard a sudden knocking at their cabin door. Miss Sallie, who was in bed, bounded out again. For the first time since their arrival in the woods the camping party was alone. Naki had been obliged to go down the hill on an errand. No one had dreamed of any possible danger in his absence.
The knocking continued. “Open! Open!” cried the voices of two men.
“Who on earth can they be?” Grace asked of the circle of girls. No one answered. Ceally came hurriedly in from the kitchen. Miss Sallie stood at her door.
The knocks were repeated in quick succession.
Ceally had taken the precaution, earlier in the evening, to close and bolt all the doors and windows except one. The shutters of this were open on the outside.
“Sh-sh!” whispered Bab, creeping on tiptoes to the window. Before their front door, she could dimly outline the figures of two men, who were evidently arguing and protesting about something.