"Why, I don't understand. If Evans and Latimer are on their way here, why do they need representatives? Isn't Tom's father a real good lawyer in New York?" said she.
"Sure, but the names alone give me an idea that they are crooks—listen: Riggley and Ratzger. Doesn't it make you think of all queer kinds of fish that one finds in big cities?" laughed her husband.
Tom came from the barns about this time, and Mrs. Brewster turned to tell him the latest news about the seekers of lava-stones. In corroboration of his wife's words, Sam Brewster held out the telegram.
Tom took it in trembling hands, for he had heard of the men whose names were signed to the message. Then he glanced at the signatures and that broke his amazed spell of silence.
"Why! Mr. Brewster, how dare they plan to visit here?" he shouted, his face as red as a poppy.
"Oh, do you know them?" wondered Mr. Brewster.
"Know them? Why, man alive, they are the same two rascals who served the injunction on father and Dr. Evans, and then they tried to steal the patent. They fought in Court, but lost their case. When they appealed, the Court sustained the first verdict, so they had no choice but to give up. I wonder what game they are coming here for?"
Mr. Brewster considered. "Tom, I wouldn't be surprised if they came here, not knowing your folks are, also, coming. Maybe they hope to get first shot at this proposition of Rainbow Cliffs and in this way, make your father pay a fabulous price for the stone."
"Some crooked deal like that, you may be assured. But I can't understand how they ever heard of Rainbow Cliffs and this ranch? There has been a leak, somewhere, in Dad's organization," said Tom, emphatically.
"Well, let's decide now, before they come, what is best for us to do. If they get here before your father and Evans, we must not give them any idea that we expect other guests, nor must we say that we suspect them of foul play. We must give them rope enough with which to hang themselves."