“Maybe there’s only one of them,” suggested Joe, hopefully.
“Even so; he has as much right there as we have, if it came to an argument.”
Joe scratched his head and admitted the fact.
“We’ve simply been trespassers on the property ourselves from the start,” said Dick.
“Well, what are we going to do about it?” asked Fletcher as Dick pulled up under the trees by the side of the road a short distance from the gate.
“Wait here till I come back,” and the young driver handed the reins to his chum and descended from his perch.
Vaulting the rail fence, he approached the old building by a flank movement across the weed-encumbered yard.
He picked up a large, flat stone and placed it beneath the window.
Stepping on it, he peered through the dirt-begrimed window into the room.
A fire was burning in the grate, and gathered about the stove were three figures, two of whom were boys.