CHAPTER XII

FRANK'S QUEER LETTER

"What are we going to do this vacation?" asked Ned of his three chums, as they assembled the next Monday morning at the boat dock where they had agreed to meet.

"We had such a strenuous time Friday I haven't been able to think of anything since," said Frank. "Say that was the best last day yet, thanks to you, Ned."

"That cow was the limit," spoke Bart. "How did you happen to think of it?"

"Oh, it sort of came to me."

"And the cow 'sort of' came up stairs," cried Fenn. "Say, it was as good as a circus."

"How did you do it?" asked Bart.

"It was easy enough once I got the farmer to consent. I met him down in the yard and laid the salt trail after he left. The cow did the rest."

"Let's go for a swim," proposed Bart. "It's getting hot, and the water ought to be fine. Come on up to the old hole."

The idea pleased the others. They got their suits from the dock house where they kept them, and soon were in their boat rowing for the swimming hole, just below the Riffles.

"Wonder if we'll see the King of Paprica?" said Bart.

"They needn't worry; we'll not bother 'em."

"How do you know?" asked Frank quickly.

"Well I passed the place where the hut was the other day, and it was gone."

"They may have moved it to another place because they didn't want us to know where it was," suggested Fenn.

"They needn't worry, we'll not bother 'em," said Bart. "It's too hot to tramp through the woods to-day."

The boys rowed leisurely up the stream, keeping close in shore, where there was plenty of shade. At one place they could send the craft along under an arch of overhanging bushes which made a sort of bower.

They had scarcely entered this spot, which was about half a mile below the swimming hole, when there sounded a cracking in the woods that told them some one was walking along the shore.

"Wait a bit," suggested Ned. "Let's see if it's any of the fellows."

Bart and Fenn, who were rowing, rested on their oars, and all four boys listened. The noise came nearer. Suddenly there peered forth from the bushes a man who had every appearance of being a tramp.

His face had not felt a razor for several weeks. His coat was in tatters, and his trousers, into which was tucked a ragged blue shirt, were all frayed about the bottoms, and flapped like those on a scarecrow. His hat was a battered derby and on one foot he wore a boot, while the other was encased in a heavy shoe. He looked at the boys for several seconds.

"Hello," he said at length, in a pleasant voice that contrasted strangely with his disreputable appearance. "Are you boys acquainted around here?"

"Pretty well," replied Fenn.

"Well, you haven't seen a short stout man, with a black moustache and black hair, anywhere around here, have you?"

"Did he have a gilt crown on?" asked Ned quickly.

"A gilt crown? No. Why should he wear a gilt crown?" and the tramp affected surprise.

"Oh, nothing, I was just wondering, that's all," and Ned winked at the other boys.

"I guess you can't tell me what I want to know," the tramp resumed. "I'm much obliged though. About how far is it to the lake?"

"Twelve miles from here," replied Bart.

"Well, I guess I can make it by night," the man said, and then he drew back into the bushes and the boys could hear him tramping through the woods.

"What made you ask him about the gilt crown?" inquired Frank.

"Because he partly described the man we saw at the hut that day," replied Ned, "and I thought I might as well complete it. I guess he's here to add to the mystery. It's getting deeper. We must certainly solve it; or try to, at any rate."

"You'd make a mystery out of a fish jumping for a fly," said Frank. "Let up on it."

"Whew! But it's hot!" exclaimed Bart, as the boat was sent on, coming from the shady nook into the glare of the sun. "I'm going to stay in all morning."

They were soon at the swimming hole, and lost little time in getting into the water. Its coolness was a welcome relief from the heat and they splashed about in great glee.

The boys were making such a noise, laughing and yelling that they did not hear the hail of a youth who came down to the edge of the bank, a little later, and shouted at them. Finally, however, he managed to make his presence known by a shrill whistle in imitation of a whip-poor-will.

"Why it's John Newton!" exclaimed Fenn, recognizing the boy who had been expelled from school.

"I've got a letter for you, Frank," said John.

"A letter for me?"

"Yes. Special delivery."

"Where'd you get it?"

"From the post-office of course. I'm working there now as messenger. Heard you boys were here and as I had to come in this direction I brought it along."

"Thought you were going to get a job in a theater," remarked Bart.

"I am, some day, but I've got to go to New York for a good opening. There's none around here for a real artist," and John began to warble like a bob-o-link.

"Wonder who that letter's from?" asked Frank.

"Better wade ashore and find out," suggested Ned, and Frank did so.

His chums watched him take the letter from John and sign the book and then they too, began making their way toward shore. Frank dried his hands on his shirt, which was on top of his pile of clothes on the bank, and opened the envelope.

The letter must have been a short one, for he was only a few seconds in reading it. As he did so his chums could see a change come over his face.

"Bad news?" asked Bart sympathetically.

"No--yes--that is--I can't tell you," said Frank, speaking quickly. "I've got to hurry back home," he added. "I'll go on if you don't mind, and not wait for you," and he began to dress quickly.

"Aren't you going back in the boat?" asked Ned.

"No, I think I'll walk through the woods. I'll take the short cut."

"Anything we can do?" asked Bart.

"No--I wish I could tell you--but I can't," Frank replied. "I must send an answer at once."

He thrust the letter into his trousers pocket and went on dressing himself. He completed his toilet in a hurry and walked off through the woods, taking the path the post-office messenger had used. The latter had departed as soon as he delivered the missive.

"Well, that's a strange sort of letter Frank got," commented Bart as he climbed out on the bank. "Hello!" he added. "He's forgotten the envelope," and he picked it up from the ground where Frank had dropped it.