Just before dinner there sounded the clatter of hoofs, and two men rode up.
“Bill Simmons!” exclaimed Chester.
“What’s going on here?” demanded the land agent, for he it was.
“House-raising. Can’t you see?” retorted Andy, while the others gathered about the two interlopers.
“Whose house?”
“The Porters’.”
“Well, you can save yourselves the trouble. Where’s those Porter boys?”
“Here,” chorused the young homesteaders, stepping toward the agent.
“I’ve heard from Washington,” Simmons announced. “As I told you, at my office, I thought would be the case, the government has refused your entry. Therefore you are trespassers on E 1, and if you are not off the section in six hours, I shall proceed—”
Angry protests interrupted the agent, while Andy demanded: