“They wouldn’t get much if they robbed the place,” laughed Harry. “A lot of worn-out books and a stove that isn’t worth two dollars as old iron.” “Let’s go a little closer, and see who they are anyway.” This was agreed to, and both boys stole along through the trees, and up to the side of the entryway. From this point they could not see the men, but could hear them talking in earnest tones, now high and then very low. “It ain’t fair to be askin’ me fer money all the time,” they heard one man say. “I reckoned as how I’d settled in full with ye long ago.” “It ain’t so, Hiram Skeetles,” was the reply in Dan Marcy’s voice. “I did you a big service, and what you’ve paid ain’t half of what I ought to have.” “It’s more’n you ought to have. Them papers wasn’t of no account, anyway.” “Maybe—but you were mighty anxious to get ’em when——” And the boys did not catch what followed. “And that’s the reason,” came presently from Hiram Skeetles. “Do you mean to say you lost ’em?” demanded Dan Marcy. “Yes.” “Where?” “One day when I was sailin’ down the lake in Jack Lasher’s sloop. We got ketched by a squall that drove us high and dry on Pine Island. I jumped to keep from getting hurt on the rocks, and when we got off after the storm my big pocketbook with everything in it was gone.” “Humph!” came in a sniff from Dan Marcy. “Do you expect me to believe any such fish story? Not much! I want fifty dollars, and I am bound to have it.” A long wrangle followed, in which the bully threatened to expose Hiram Skeetles. This angered the real estate dealer from Brookside exceedingly. “If you’re a natural born idiot, expose me,” he cried. “But you’ll have to expose yourself fust.” Dan Marcy persisted, and at last obtained ten dollars. Then the men prepared to separate, and in a few minutes more each was gone. “Now what do you make of that?” questioned Fred. “I hardly know what to make of it,” replied Harry. “But I am going to tell my father about this just as soon as I get home.” Harry was as good as his word, and Horace Westmore listened attentively to what his son had to relate. “It is certainly very mysterious,” said Mr. Westmore. “The papers that were mentioned may have been those which your grandfather once possessed—those which showed that he was the owner of the land at the upper end of the lake which Skeetles declares is his property. Then again the papers may be something entirely different.” “I think we ought to watch Dan Marcy, father.” “Yes, I’ll certainly watch him after this.” “You haven’t been able to do much about the land, have you?” “I can’t do a thing without the papers—the lawyers have told me so.” “If old Skeetles lost them we couldn’t make him give them up, even on a search warrant.” “That is true. But they may not have been lost even though he said so. He may have them hidden away where nobody can find them,” concluded Mr. Westmore.