"I've got my eyes open," answered the fun-loving Rover sturdily.
With the barrel staves in hand, the three Rover boys advanced further and further into the old mill, going from one room to another. Occasionally they stumbled over bits of lumber and piles of sawdust, for when the place had been shut down no attempt had been made to clean up. Even some of the machinery had been left and this was now so rusted that it was practically unfit for use.
"Say, Mr. Crabtree, why don't you show yourself?" called out Dick. "Are you afraid?"
"You get out of here!" came the unexpected answer, from a small toolroom, the door to which was split but tightly closed. "You Rovers have no right on this property!"
The boys recognized the harsh and dictatorial voice of Josiah Crabtree,—less pleasant now than it ever had been. They saw the former teacher glaring at them from the split in the toolroom door.
"Mr. Crabtree, come out here and let us talk to you," said Dick, quietly but firmly.
"I don't want to talk to you—I want you to leave these premises," snarled the man.
"Why should we leave?" asked Tom.
"Because this is my property."
