[a/]
II
Welton strode away into the darkness, followed closely by Bob. He made his way as rapidly as he could through the village to an attractive house at the farther outskirts. Here he turned through the picket gate, and thundered on the door.
It was almost immediately opened by a meek-looking woman of thirty.
"Plant in?" demanded Welton.
The meek woman had no opportunity to reply.
"Sure! Sure! Come in!" roared the Supervisor's great voice.
They entered to find the fat man, his coat off, leaning luxuriously back in an office chair, his feet up on another, a cigar in his mouth. He waved a hospitable hand.
"Sit down! Sit down!" he wheezed. "Glad to see you."
"They tell me there's a fire over in the Stone Creek country," said Welton.