“Let us hope they have good news,” said Belle, as with her sister and Cora she entered the Robinson automobile and headed back for Cheerful Chelton.
“Nothing doing,” announced Jack, as his sister and her chums came in sight of the Kimball home, and saw him with Walter, sitting on the broad, shady piazza. “Absolutely nothing transpiring, as the poet saith.”
“College hasn’t improved your slang any,” observed Bess.
“No, I guess I’ll have to take a P. G. course to accomplish that. I am a bit rusty. Wally, suppose you give them a sample.”
“Spare us,” murmured Cora. “Was there really no news, Jack?”
“Not an atom, or even a molecule. Which is smaller, Wally? I forget.”
“Same here. Anyhow they hadn’t caught those Meadport thieves, so whether they have your auto or not, Cora, my dear, remains yet to be proved.”
The young people talked on, the conversation reverting naturally to Camp Surprise.
“What do you think it all means, Jack?” asked Bess.
“Kids playing tricks,” declared Jack tersely. “So it didn’t scare you girls out from going?”
“Of course not!” declared Bess indignantly. A look passed from her to Cora, from Cora to Belle—and that was all.
“That’s right!” chimed in Walter. “Don’t let a little thing like that scare you away. We’ll get at the bottom of this mystery.”
“When do you plan to go?” asked Cora of her brother.
“As soon as Wally can get his new suit that he’s ordered from that nobby tailor.”
“Don’t you believe him,” cried Walter, thumping his chum on the back. “I’m as ready as he is. He’s waiting for one of those sport shirts——”
“Well, make up your minds, and we’ll all go together,” urged Cora. “We can go up in the motor boat as far as possible, and take buckboards the rest of the way. We’d like to have you boys on hand when we begin the investigation of Camp Surprise.”
“Oh, ho! Afraid?” laughed Walter. “I thought there was a mouse in the woodpile somewhere, Jack, my boy!”
“Nothing of the sort!” came from Cora. “Besides, you’re thinking of the mouse and the lion. It is an African gentleman of color who makes the woodpile his habitation.”
“That’s right,” admitted Walter. “I never was very good at dates anyhow.”
“Fig paste is more to your liking. Have a chocolate,” urged Bess.
“We want you along to bear testimony when we have routed out the mischief-makers,” said Cora, after the laughter had subsided. “Your bungalow is near ours, and we can call to you to come and hold the disturbers when we capture them.”