Part 37 (1/2)
”Do what?” asked Cora.
”Give evidence.”
”Don't worry. You won't have to do anything hard, dear,” was the gentle answer, as Cora slipped her arm about the timid girl.
”Oh, I'll do anything you girls do,” was the quick answer. ”I want to help.”
”And we want your help,” whispered Bess. ”But, Cora, can't we go closer? We ought to look in and see what happens.”
”Brave Bess!” murmured Lottie. ”You are certainly coming on finely.”
The plotters were now inside the cabin, so that it was safe for the girls to advance. This they did until they were once more in a position where they could look in the window of the cabin.
They saw a strange sight. Old Denny Shane, brave and rugged, confronted the four men who had called on him. In one hand he grasped the red oar, while the other rested on the back of the chair from which he had risen.
”Well, Mr. Shane,” said the man Cora knew as Bruce. ”We come to see you on business.”
”What kind?” asked the old man, and the girls could see him look around as though seeking help or a means of escape. But there was no fear in his eyes. Only defiance.
”We might as well get to business at once,” said one of the men, sharply. That was Kelly.
”That's right,” agreed Moran. ”Make him an offer. If he doesn't want to take it then we'll talk another kind of talk. And be quick about it.”
”I want no business with you!” cried Denny, sharply. ”Why do you come here bothering me?”
”You know why!” exclaimed Bruce. ”You are concerned in the Lewis land matter. You can testify as to who owns it.”
”Well, supposin' I can?” asked the old man, defiantly. ”What is that to you?”
”Lots to us, and it may mean a great deal to you, also!” snapped out Kelly. ”You may have some papers, too.”
”I may,” returned Denny, ”but you'll not get 'em.”
Cora and the others, listening, knew that Denny would only be too glad if he did have the doc.u.ments in question. But the girls had heard him lamenting that he did not know where they were.
Why did he now let the men think he did know? It was a puzzle to the girls.
”Not get them, eh?” cried Bruce. ”That's to be seen. Now look here, Shane. We came here to do business, and we're going to do it. By fair means if we can, if not----”
He paused suggestively.
”Ah! I know you and your breed!” cried the old fisherman. ”By fair means or foul! But try it on! I'm not afraid of you.”
He stepped back a pace, the better to defend himself in case he had to. The red oar was still in his firm hands.
”Now wait a minute,” put in Moran. ”We'll try the fair means first.
What do you say to that? Show him the bills.”
With a quick gesture Bruce drew out a roll of greenbacks.