There were chairs enough to seat the three boys comfortably.
"Somebody has been here, pards," declared McGlory, "and not so very long ago, either."
"He's a Sherlock Holmes, all right," grinned Lorry. "How do you suppose he knew that, Motor Matt?"
"Oh, go on!" growled the cowboy. "Your friend George is a cigarette fiend. Why do you reckon the windows were draped like that?"
There were two small windows in the sitting room, and each was covered with a double thickness of canvas, battened down on all sides.
"Give it up," said Lorry. "Ollie must have been having a game of cards here with some of the boys, and probably he didn't want anybody looking in."
"Ollie?" murmured Matt, startled, suddenly remembering that, at the time of the attempted robbery on the Waunakee road, Big John had addressed his youthful companion as "Ollie."
"Yes, Ollie Merton," answered Lorry; "he's the fellow who owns this place."
"What sort of looking fellow is he?"