orter, quickly. "It
may be his father's private business, you know."

"Oh, I don't think he'll object to my telling you the details,"
responded the shipowner's son. "It isn't very much of a secret where we
live, or in East Haven."

"East Haven? Is that the place across the river from where you live?"
queried Dave Porter.

"Yes. It's quite a bustling little town, too, although when my father
and his older brother, Lester Lawrence, bought the tract of land there
it didn't amount to much, and they got the ground for a song."

"I'd like to buy some land for a song," put in another youth of the
group. "Then I might sell it and make a handsome profit. Say," he
continued, his face brightening up, "that puts me in mind of a story.
Once there was a man who wanted to----"

"Hold on, Shadow. It isn't your turn to tell stories now," interrupted
Dave. "We want to hear what Phil has to say."

"This story wouldn't take but a minute," grumbled Maurice Hamilton,
otherwise known as "Shadow." "It's a dandy one, too."

"All right, we'll listen to it later," returned Roger Morr. "Let us
first hear what Phil has to tell."

"It isn't so much of a story," said the shipowner's son. "You see, years
ago my dad and his older brother purchased a tract of land at East
Haven, along the waterfront. For some time it was idle, and then it was
leased to a lumber company, who used it for a number of years as a
lumber yard. At that time East Haven had no railroad, but the L. A. & H.
line came through that way and wanted to cross the river at East Haven,
and wanted to locate their railroad repair shops along the waterfront
there. They have made my father an offer for the land, and if that tract
could be sold my folks would stand to make a profit of twenty to thirty
thousand dollars."

"Well, why not sell the land then--unless you think it is worth more
than the railroad company is willing to pay?" asked Dave.

"My father is willing enough to sell, and has been for some time; but he
can't give the railroad a clear title, and consequently the deal is at a
standstill."

"Oh, I see, Phil," said Roger Morr. "That is the worst of buying land
that has a flaw in the title."

"There wasn't any flaw in the title when my father and my Uncle Lester
purchased the ground," returned the shipowner's son. And now his face
clouded. "The trouble has all come up within the last five years--that
is, it wouldn't have come up at all if it hadn't been for what happe