“I’m not much good at fixing damaged furniture,” his father confessed. “The business I had in mind was raising chickens. As soon as we get you dried out we’ll start making plans. How about it, son? Would you like to go into partnership with me?”
“I’ll have to ask Ma,” Danny protested. “Let’s go and find her.”
“She won’t be hard to find. The Jewell sisters are expecting her for tea. I think raising chickens is a wonderful idea,” declared Judy. “Oh! Here comes Peter.”
Peter had seen Judy from the house where the boards had already been removed from one window. “It’s safe to come in now,” he told her, “but I’m glad you weren’t here an hour ago when the Earl drove up. He saw us and started to run, but we nabbed him and disarmed him. Meantime the boy in the car with him ran off—”
“But not very far,” Horace interrupted, emerging from the woods with Buck Lester in tow. “We caught him throwing this in the beaver pond.”
Peter stared at the object they were carrying between them as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Then he turned to the boy. “The FBI can use all the information you can give us,” he began.
“You’re too late, G-man. I already gave it to this newspaper guy,” Buck informed him. “He’s going to put my picture in the paper—”
“You’re wrong there,” Horace stopped him. “When you grow up a bit you won’t want that kind of publicity. How old are you?”
“Fifteen,” he replied, “not that it’s any of your business.”
Peter looked him over appraisingly. “That’s good. I think we can still make something of this boy.”