“Surely he wouldn’t be so rude as to prevent us seeing the old darky.”
“You never can tell. Those ‘No trespassing’ signs may apply to callers also.”
A half mile farther on they came in sight of the Tradds’ old summer home. No doubt it had once been a fine residence, but even from the water they could see that its tabby walls were crumbling, and the paint had long since worn off the columned porch. Though the grounds were neglected and weed-grown, old azaleas, in full bloom, made gorgeous splashes of color. Wisteria vines had been left to run riotously over several pines, and the lavender blossoms were now hanging far up the brown trunks.
“Seems a shame for a man like Beeson to have such a heavenly spot,” said Kitty, when they shipped their oars, and Brad made the boat fast to a rickety dock in front of the house.
The tide had just begun to rise, so that their boat was eight or ten feet below the level of the dock. There was a ladder, however, by which they could go up. Brad had just given Kitty a hand to help her up when there came a furious baying of hounds from the direction of the house. A moment later they saw three vicious-looking dogs making for the dock.
“We can’t take a chance on them!” exclaimed Brad, realizing at once that this was how Beeson kept intruders away from his house.
Kitty tumbled back into the boat, while Brad released their line, so they could push off. He was not a moment too soon, for the dogs dashed along the dock and hung over the edge, their fierce jaws dripping as they barked furiously.
“What a reception!” exclaimed Kitty. “It really looks as though Uncle Mose won’t get his smoking tobacco today.”
“No launch tied up here. I suppose Beeson is away, and this is the guard he has set.”
“Would an honest man be so careful that nobody comes prowling around?”