"Take my word for it," he was assured by his chum, "I'm out for the grub above all things; though of course I admit to having a little curiosity about this mysterious Mr. Dennison. I've heard a lot of queer things about his doings. He has a pretty fine place away up here, but keeps it surrounded by a high fence, and they even say it has a strand or two of terrible barbed wire on top of the fence, to discourage any one from climbing over."
"Gee whiz! I hope he doesn't own a pack of wolf dogs that would make a jump for stray boys that chanced to get in the grounds."
"I asked particularly about that," said Frank, who somehow seemed to think of nearly everything, "and no one could remember ever seeing any around. So just as like as not the old man doesn't fancy dogs."
"Yes, there are people who shiver every time they meet a collie or a mastiff," admitted Bluff, "though for my part I've always liked all breeds. I believe a dog is man's best friend, as faithful as life itself."
"Well, here we are," remarked Frank, with a ring of satisfaction in his voice.
"It's a high fence, sure enough," said Bluff, "with barbed wire strung across where the creek comes out under it, so even a fox would find it hard to get through. How shall we manage it, Frank?"
"First of all, we'll move along the fence. There may happen to be a board loose where we can slip through. That would be better than trying the gate, to be turned down flat-footed."
They had not gone fifty feet before Bluff discovered the loose board they sought. It required only a small amount of agility to pass through the opening, after which they walked along through the woods on the other side of the high fence.
Presently they came in sight of a long, low house, which was half hidden amidst dense foliage, and looked, as Bluff called it, "spooky."
Straight up to the door of this building the two boys strode, and Frank without hesitation rapped loudly with his knuckles.