them, her hands upon her hips. She was hard-faced and tight-lipped, with gaunt features. She was not prepossessing and her untidy garb did not impress the boys favorably.
"What do you want?" demanded the man, emerging from the woodshed.
He was short and thin with close-cropped hair, and he was in need of a shave. His complexion was swarthy and he had narrow eyes under coarse, black brows. His manner was far from polite as he advanced upon the boys.
At the same time another man came out of the kitchen and stood on the steps. He was stout and red-haired and had a thick mustache. As he stood there in his shirt-sleeves he glared pugnaciously at the sextette.
"Yeah, what's the big idea?" he asked.
"We didn't know any one was living here," explained Frank, edging over to the kitchen door. He wanted to get a look inside the house if possible.
"Well, there is," said the red-haired man. "We're livin' here now, and I can't see that it's any of your business. What are you snooping around here for?"
"We aren't snooping," said Frank quietly. "We are looking for a man who has disappeared from Bayport."
"Humph!" grunted the woman.
