st accommodating way, and no
gruff keeper of the grounds came along with an angry demand that he
desist in his undertaking, as the owner of the estate did not wish the
public to see what manner of home he had built for himself there
behind that towering fence.

When Frank heard a slight "click" he knew that Will had made at least
one exposure, though like a cautious photographer he might decide to
shift his location a trifle and try again, so as to make sure of his
work.

Their excursion, then, promised to meet with success. If only the
eccentric owner of the place himself should come along and give Will a
chance to snap his picture off it would be doubly satisfactory.

That was what Frank was saying to himself as he stood and waited for
Will to complete his work. Once he fancied he heard some slight sound,
like the rustling of bushes, and wondered whether, after all, there
could be a dog at large within the enclosed grounds.

Frank realized that they were intruders, and as such could not give
any good excuse for being there. He decided that they had better
linger no longer; and was really in the act of turning to wave his
hand to Will, some twenty feet or more away, when something happened
that stopped his plan.

A voice that was trembling with anger came to his ears, and gave him a
rude shock.

"How dare you trespass on this private property, and even have the
assurance to take a picture of my house, you young rascals?" was what
this furious voice said, and turning quickly Frank saw the speaker not
five feet away from him.

CHAPTER XI

IN THE BIG TIMBER

Of course it was Mr. Dennison himself. Frank could easily have guessed
as much from the manner in which the other behaved, even had he not
spoken of the building as "my house."

The first thing Frank settled in his mind was that their visitor of
the preceding night had been Aaron Dennison. The white, close-cropped
beard told him that. Then he saw that the old gentleman held a stout
cane in his hand, which he had half raised as though sorely tempted to
make strenuous use of it upon the backs of these two ambitious amateur
photographers.

Frank knew how to talk, and use soothing language. His chums always
said he would make a good lawyer. Apparently he might go a long time
before running across a better opportunity for smoothing the "ruffled
feathers" of an angry man than was now offered to him.

"I hope you'll excuse us, Mr. Dennison, for enter