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Attending which institution our story finds them. There was Ned Wilding, whose mother was dead, and their father was cashier of the Darewell Bank. Bart Keene was a stout-hearted youth, more fond of sports than he was of eating or sleeping, his father used to say. As for Stumpy, he was just the sort of a lad his name indicated.
The three chums, starting on their search for Frank, soon found the telephone line. "Now we're here, the next question is: Which way are we to go?" asked Bart. "It's all guess work." "Not exactly," spoke Ned, and he used the same reasoning that Frank had, in deciding to follow the line as it led in the opposite direction from that of Darewell.
Hardman waiting for them. "On time I see," he remarked, as Bart introduced Ned and Fenn. "It's just the morning for a nice long tramp. I hope you boys are good walkers." "I guess we can keep up with you," Bart replied, and they started off. It was about five miles from the hotel to where the corduroy road began to wend a tortuous way through the big woods back of the town of Darewell.
None of the three felt like doing anything. They did not fish, and even the canoe had lost its charm. They sat around under the trees, and, for the twentieth time, talked over the situation in regard to their missing comrade. "It looks as if the Darewell Chums would number three instead of four, after this," said Fenn rather mournfully, on the morning of the third day of Frank's absence.
It is to their interest to make him altogether insane, so they can control the property." "How do you account for those men I heard talking in the building the time I was captured by the Upside Down Club?" asked Ned. "I don't know who they were," Frank admitted, "but I am sure they were in the plot. They were probably planning some details or they may have been in Darewell to see my uncle.
But what attracted more attention, than the accurate representation of a pond, was a big mud turtle resting on the stones lazily blinking at the crowds that stared at it, as though pleased with the homage paid. And, on a card hanging over the turtle, was this inscription: "Winner of the Darewell High School annual lazy-race.
"Mind now," Bart added, as the team was about to disperse, having reached Darewell, "no talking about the dinner. Everyone keep mum or there may be no spread at all. If any one hears of the Upside Down boys getting wind of the affair, tell me and we'll arrange to fool 'em."
Frank's talk, his refusal to explain what he meant, and the strange scene, in which he and Mr. Hardman figured, was a great mystery to the three chums, but they felt they had no right to press Frank for an explanation. They could only wait until he told them what it all meant. It was now getting dusk, and, deciding it was no use to wait for Mr. Hardman, the boys hurried back to Darewell.
Then I suppose a person coming say from the other side of the forest would have difficulty in reaching the road and getting into Darewell?" "It would be quite hard, I imagine," said Bart, "We have never been to the other edge of the forest. It is about ten miles in extent, and we have only been about half way through. It is pretty wild, the farther in you go." "So much the better," Mr.
An instant later Ned had passed the chagrined catcher and had touched the home plate, while the High School boys stood up on the bleachers and made themselves hoarse with cheers. Joining them came the shrill cries of the girls of Darewell, quite a throng of whom had come to see the game. "Good, Ned!" cried Bart, as he ran up to grasp his chum by the hand.
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