"That puts me in mind. Whom do you reckon I clapped eyes on down at the concert hall to-night?"
"I'm sure I don't know. Any of our enemies?"
"Those three Rover boys."
"What!" Arnold Baxter pushed back his chair in amazement. "Can they be—be following me?" he gasped.
"No. I saw 'em by accident. They had been to the concert."
"But they don't belong here. They live on a farm called Valley Brook, near the village of Dexter's Corners."
"They were with another boy—a well-dressed chap. Maybe they are paying him a visit."
Arnold Baxter shook his head. "I don't like this. If they have got wind of anything—"
"But how could they get wind?" persisted Buddy Girk.
"That would remain to be found out. You must remember, Buddy, that they are down on me because of that row I once had with their father over that gold mine."
"I know it. And, by the way, I never got nothin' out of that deal neither," growled Buddy Girk.
"Didn't I tell you that some papers were miss-
