Reassured, Nat entered the shed, and Dave and Phil tiptoed their way up and got behind the open door.
The hired help were in the kitchen, so the shed was empty.

On the floor stood an ice-cream freezer full of home-made ice-cream, and on a shelf rested several freshly baked cakes, all covered with chocolate icing, set out to harden.
"Now I'll fix things," Dave and Phil heard the money-lender's son mutter.

"Salt in the cream and salt in the layer cakes will do the trick! Some of the boys and girls will think they are poisoned!" Nat took up a bag of salt that was handy,--used for making the cream,--and proceeded to open the can in the freezer.

Dave watched him as a cat does a mouse.
Just as Nat was on the point of dumping some of the salt into the ice-cream he felt himself jerked backwards.

The salt dropped to the floor, and Nat found himself confronting Dave, with Phil but a few steps away.
"You contemptible rascal!" cried Dave, his eyes flashing.
"Why--I--er----" stammered the money-lender's son.