CHAPTER XIII

SANDY ON GUARD

"Hurry after him," suggested Ned.

"He's too far by this time," spoke Bart. "Besides I don't fancy going through the woods in my bare feet. I guess it will keep."

"Where's it from?" asked Fenn. There seemed to be nothing wrong in looking at the postmark. Besides the chums seldom had secrets from each other.

"New York," said Bart, turning the envelope over. "It is from a law firm," he added as he looked at the name in the upper left hand corner. "Wright & Johnson, 11 Pine street."

"I've got some relatives in New York," remarked Ned. "I am going to see 'em some day."

"Well, I don't see how that will throw any light on Frank's queer actions," remarked Fenn. "Wonder what the trouble is?"

"If he doesn't want to tell us I don't see what right we've got to ask," came from Ned. "Better not say anything more to him about it."

"We'll give him back the envelope," suggested Bart, "and that will give him an opening if he wants to tell us anything. If he doesn't--why I guess it's his secret."

That was decided to be the best move, and the boys dressed and got into the boat. They rowed leisurely back to the dock, speculating, at intervals, over Frank's curious behavior.

"Maybe he'll go to New York," suggested Ned.

"He's not likely to go without telling us," came from Bart. "If he does he'll see us before he goes."

The lads remained at the dock some little time, cleaning their boat and mending a broken oar. As they were walking up the street toward the main part of town Ned exclaimed:

"There goes Frank now!"

The others looked and saw their chum just ahead of them, hurrying along.

"Where's he going?" asked Bart.

A moment later they saw Frank enter the law office of Judge Benton.

"He seems to have quite some legal business," observed Fenn. "Maybe some one has left him a lot of money."

"Wish some one would leave me a bit," observed Ned with a laugh.

Further consideration of Frank's doings was interrupted for a moment as the chums met Lem Gordon.

"Hello Lem, where you going?" asked Ned.

"Got to go to the hardware store for some nails. Lot of jobs to do around the house and dad says I might as well keep busy during vacation. I planned to go fishing, too, but I guess I can do that this afternoon. Say, did you hear about Sandy?"

"No, what's he done now."

"Gone off camping in the woods, somewhere up along the river."

"Any one with him?" asked Bart.

"No, all alone. Hired a tent that Sid Edwards used last year and went off by himself."

"I thought he was afraid to stay out alone nights," observed Stumpy.

"There's something strange about it," went on Lem. "Tom Jasper, who lives next door, told me he saw a strange man talking to Sandy in the back yard one day. The next day Sandy arranged to go camping."

"What sort of a looking man was he?" asked Bart.

"All I remember is that he had a very black moustache."

The three chums looked at one another. The same thought was in the mind of each, that the man might be the one who had called himself King of Paprica.

"I'd like to go camping myself." Lem went on. "What you fellows going to do this vacation?"

"Haven't made up our minds yet," replied Ned. "We'll have some fun, though."

"Where's Frank?" inquired Lem. "Seems funny not to see the four of you together."

"He'll be along pretty soon," said Bart. "We were up to the swimming hole, and he had some business to attend to, so he came back ahead of us."

"Well I'm going after those nails," the pitcher went on. "The fence will fall down before I get back if I don't hurry. It's been threatening to topple for a week," and he went on, whistling a merry tune.

"That's funny about Sandy," remarked Ned, when Lem was out of earshot.

"And about that black-moustached man," went on Bart. "We'll have to look into this. Hello, here comes Frank."

Their chum emerged from Judge Benton's place with a letter in his hand and hurried to the post-office, nearly across the street from the lawyer's office. He remained inside only a few seconds, and evidently posted the missive for, when he came out, his hands were empty. Then he saw his chums and hurried over toward them.

"Sorry I had to run away," Frank said, with a little bit of awkwardness in his air, "but I had to attend to some business in a hurry."

"There's the envelope you dropped," said Bart. "We found it when we came out to dress."

"Thanks," replied Frank, and, without looking at it he put it into his pocket. "Say," he went on, "what do you say to taking a walk after some wild flowers this afternoon?"

"Wild flowers; what for?" inquired Ned.

"Well, not for ourselves, of course," Frank went on. "I happened to meet Miss Mapes, the teacher you know, and she asked me if I knew where there were any. There's going to be an entertainment in her church and they want some to decorate with. I told her I thought I could get her plenty. Do you want to go?"

"Sure," replied Bart, and the others nodded assent. Miss Mapes was a favorite with all the pupils.

"We'll meet at the dock, right after dinner," proposed Frank, "row up the river a way and then strike in through the woods. Right at the foot of Bender's Hill ought to be a good place. The woods are thick and shady there."

The others agreed to this and separated, to gather again about one o'clock.

"Stumpy, you and Bart row," suggested Ned. "You need the exercise to keep you from getting fat, and Bart wants to keep in training for football next term."

"Well, I like your nerve, Ned Wilding!" exclaimed Fenn.

"Same here!" came from Bart.

"I thought you would," observed Ned coolly, as he went to the stern, prepared to steer.

"He and I will row back," suggested Frank.

"That's right,--take the easiest part--come down with the current," growled Stumpy, but he took his place at the oars. Perhaps he thought he was getting too stout.

Bart grumbled some, but in a good-natured way, and ended by taking his place just ahead of Fenn, while Frank went to the bow, and soon they were underway.

They tied their boat in a secluded place about a mile above the Riffles and then struck off through the woods. It was two miles to Bender's Hill, a small mountain named after the man on whose property it was located, and it was the highest point in the vicinity. All about it, as well as on the sides and top of the hill, were dense woods, not often visited.

After some hard tramping through underbrush and over fallen trees, which the boys did not seem to mind (though they would have growled if they had been obliged to do it) they came to a little clearing. They were about to cross it when there came a sudden hail:

"You fellows can't come here!"

"I'd like to know why?" inquired Bart without seeing who had spoken.

"Because I'm here on guard to see that no one passes," and at that the boys glanced up, to see Sandy Merton, with a little target rifle in his hands, standing on the other edge of the clearing.