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"But where the mischief did that fellow go who was in my room?" "It is sort of queer," admitted Andy, as he looked down. Without intending to do so he noticed that Mortimer did not wear rubber-soled shoes, but had on a heavy pair that would have made noise enough down the corridor had he hurried along the passage. "Maybe you dreamed it," suggested Mortimer.
He hoped it would be some time before a two hundred dollar offer would be heard. As for Andy Foger, he was almost speechless with rage. He shook off the restraining arm of Sam, and, worming his way to the front of the throng, exclaimed: "I'll give a hundred and seventy-five dollars for that boat!" "Good!" cried the auctioneer. "That's the way to talk. I'm offered a hundred and seventy-five."
We're kinder poor relations here. Aunt Crawford's sick, and Ma keeps house. But Uncle Crawford's good, an' lets me go to Charlotte Town with him sometimes." I recall that he also boasted some about his big brothers, who were away just then. Andy was up betimes in the morning, to see us start. But we didn't start, because Mr. Crawford insisted that the white mare should have a half day's rest.
He thought a terrible lot of his mother, Andy did. Seems as if he wanted to please her now as much as ever. And he has some pretty homesick times, now and then, though he doesn't show it much."
"Yes, we must guard our secret well, Tom," put in Mr. Damon. "Well, Andy couldn't have known anything about the letter I got," declared Tom, "and if he only heard snatched of our talk it won't do him much good." "The only trouble is he's been there long enough to have heard most of it." suggested Ned. They could talk freely now, for in going into the parlor Mr.
If Joe is there we'll get him out." "And in jig time, too," chimed in Ernest Thompson. "Come on, boys, get some gasoline, hop in the dinghy and let's get aboard. We've got to move fast if we're to accomplish anything. You get the boat, Andy, while I write a line to tell the others what we've gone after."
"I wonder what's become of the crazy machinist?" asked Jack. "Oh, maybe he's made friends with the Martians," said Mark, "and has told them he's a king, or something like that, and they're treating him with royal honors." "More likely he's plotting mischief," declared old Andy. "I wish my gun was in working order. Somehow I don't like the way that fellow acted on the red hill."
Finally Andy unearthed a little wooden box, and lifted it to the light. It held a lot of trinkets, and from among them Andy selected a large silver watch and chain. He also took out a small box. It was made of some very dark smooth wood, and its corners and center were decorated with carved pieces of gold and mother of pearl. "The watch and chain are solid silver," murmured Andy.
"Work up some clues against Andy Foger." "Good! I'll do it! I'd like to get ahead of that bully and his father, who once tried to wreck the bank I'm interested in. I'll help you, Tom! I'll play detective! Let me see what disguise shall I assume? I think I'll take the part of a tramp. Bless my ham sandwich! That will be the very thing.
He asked me if I knew who had gone from here the men in particular; and then I saw his hand. He wanted to find out if Andy Buckton went. He beat about the bush for a long time with a crazy, nervous stare in his eyes, and as soon as I told him I did not know he rose to leave.
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