They were a peculiar pair. And when they left the boat I followed them with curious eyes. There was a small dock here, to which two green rowboats were tied. Back from the canal was a big house, built after the plan of an old-time log cabin, with a wide summer porch in front and big fireplace chimneys.
“Huh!” grunted Scoop, as the two queer men disappeared up the path that led to the house. “They might at least have thanked us.”
Red was excited.
“Did you notice what the gabby one had in his coat pockets?”
“What?”
“Tools. Screw drivers and wrenches. I noticed that the pockets bulged. And when the man came near me I took a good squint.… What [[78]]do you bet,” freckles made the guess, “that he isn’t a safe breaker?”
“The one with the beady eyes,” Peg spoke up, “looked to me like the type of fellow who would knife his best friend in the back for a bottle of horse-raddish.”
“He’s got the other one scared of him,” I put in.
Scoop was studying the lonely surroundings.
“Do you suppose,” he inquired of us, in a sort of reflective way, “that the log house is a counterfeiters’ den? That would explain the tools in the man’s pockets. And this is the kind of a secluded place that counterfeiters would like.”