“Same here,” echoed Harry.
The two lads worked for their respective fathers, and the latter were not too exacting. Bob and his chums attended High School, but owing to the fact that the building was being repaired the usual fall term would be two months late in opening. Hence they still had considerable of a vacation before them, for which they were duly grateful.
Many thoughts were surging through the mind of Bob Dexter as he went about his duties in the hardware store. It was rather a shock to him to learn that the odd but kindly old man, with whom he had been drinking buttermilk less than twenty-four hours ago, was now dead.
“But who killed him, and why?” mused Bob.
“He was fearfully afraid of some one he called Rod Marbury. Could that fellow have had a hand in it? And if the old man was locked in his strong room how could anyone get in to kill him? I should like to find out all about this, and I’m going to.”
Uncle Joel chuckled silently when Bob asked if he could be excused for the remainder of the day.
“Going fishing, Bob?” he asked.
“No, not exactly,” was the answer.
“Well, I can guess. You’ll be heading for Storm Mountain, I suppose.”
“Did you hear about the murder?” exclaimed the lad.