“I don’t know how much it means,” retorted John, “but I do know that it is a wooden box, that it’s about six inches square and that it is heavy—”
“Yes, to look at it,” broke in Fred; “it’s old and looks as if it had been left out in the weather. Even if it is locked I don’t believe that there’s anything of any value in it.”
“That isn’t what troubles me,” said John quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“Why, I mean this box is hidden here. I don’t know as we have any right to take it. I wonder too if Mr. Button is really what he says he is. Suppose we take this box away with us and then somebody arrests us for stealing? What’s to hinder?”
“That’s nothing to hinder,” said Fred, “but we’ll take the box with us just the same.”
Each of the boys was confident whenever his companion became fearful or discouraged.
“We’ll say no more about it,” said John as his turned toward the open slide by which they had entered the building.
“Don’t show it to Mr. Button when that woman in there can see you,” suggested Fred.
“Thank you,” laughed John. “I’ll try to heed your advice, kind sir.”