“I guess we don’t have to look very far for ’em,” said a voice at the doorway. Roy and Dick started and looked up. It was the man in the black frock-coat.
“Thunder!” muttered Roy, softly. “It’s Jim Ewing!”
“This is my brother-in-law, Mr. Ewing,” faltered Mrs. Peel. “This young lady is the one I was telling you about, James, and these gentlemen—they are friends of yours, my dear?”
“Yes,” answered Harry, “we’re all together with my father and Chub—you saw him the other day—on a house-boat.”
Roy and Dick were gazing fascinatedly at the farmer, and Mr. Ewing was staring malevolently back at them.
“James, there’s been thieves here,” said Mrs. Peel, “and they stole—how much did they take, Miss?”
“They took all the money in the drawer,” said Harry, “and we reckoned up that they’d taken about nine dollars’ worth of bacon and canned goods. They broke in the back door—”
“Up to your old tricks again, are ye?” asked Mr. Ewing, harshly. “Ain’t content with robbing farms, eh? Have to take the bread out of the mouths of the widows and orphans, too, do ye?”
“Why, James!” ejaculated Mrs. Peel, bewilderedly. “You don’t understand! These aren’t the thieves! These gentlemen are—”