way to the narrow window, and Ned looked in as Joe had done. The backs of the two men were still towards the opening, so the lads were not discovered.
“What is this new game?” they heard the man called Malone ask, after a peal of thunder had rolled away among the mountains.
“It’s the old game of a sick miner with some valuable stocks to sell,” answered Gaff Caven.
“Have you got the stocks?”
“To be sure—one thousand shares of the Blue Bell Mine, of Montana, said to be worth exactly fifty thousand dollars.”
“Phew! You’re flying high, Gaff!” laughed Pat Malone.
“And why not, so long as I sell the stocks?”
“What did they cost you?”
“Well, they didn’t cost me fifty thousand dollars,” and Gaff Caven closed one eye suggestively.
“You bet they didn’t! More than likely they didn’t cost you fifty dollars.”
“What, such elegantly engraved stocks as those?”
“Pooh! I can buy a bushel-basket full of worthless stocks for a dollar,” came from Pat Malone. “But that isn’t here nor there. I go into the deal if you give me my fair share of the earnings.”
“I’ll give you one-third, Pat, and that’s a fair share, I think.”
“Why not make it half?”
“Because I’ll do the most of the work. It’s no easy matter to find a victim.” And Gaff Caven laughed broadly. He had a good-appearing face, but his eyes were small and not to be trusted.
“All right, I’ll go in for a third then. But how soon is the excitement to begin?”
“Oh, in a week or so. I’ve got the advertisements in the papers already.”
“Not in New York?”
“No, it’s Philadelphia this time. Perhaps I’ll land one of our Quaker friends.”
“Don’t be so sure. The Quakers may be slow but they generally know what they are doing.”
More thunder interrupted the conversation at this point, and when it was resumed the two men talked in such low tones that only an occasional word could be caught by the two boys.
“They surely must be rascals,” remarked Ned, in a whisper. “I’m half of a mind to have them locked up.”
“That’s easier said than done,” answered Joe. “Besides, we haven’t any positive proofs against them.”
The wind was now rising, and it soon blew so furiously that the two boys were forced to seek the shelter of the woodshed, since they did not deem it wise to enter the lodge so long as the two men were inside. They waited in the shed for fully half an hour, when, as suddenly as it had begun, the storm let up and the sun began to peep forth from between the scattering clouds.
“Now we can go home if we wish,” said Joe. “But for my part, I’d like to stay and see what those men do, and where they go to.”
“Yes, let us stay by all means,” answered the rich youth.
They waited a few minutes longer and then Ned suggested that they look into the window of the lodge once more. The hermit’s boy was willing, and they approached the larger building with caution.
Much to their astonishment the two strangers had disappeared.
“Hullo! what do you make of that?” cried Ned, in amazement.
“Perhaps they are in one of the other rooms,” suggested Joe.
At the risk of being caught, they entered the lodge and looked into one room after another. Every apartment was vacant, and they now saw that the fire in the fireplace had been stamped out.
“They must have left while we were in the woodshed,” said Ned.
“Maybe they are out on the lake,” answered the hermit’s boy, and he ran down to the water’s edge, followed by his companion. But though they looked in every direction, not a craft of any kind was to be seen.
“Joe, they didn’t take to the water, consequently they must have left by one of the mountain paths.”
“That is true, and if they did they’ll have no nice time in getting through. All the bushes are sopping wet, and the mud is very slippery in places.”
They walked to the rear of the lodge and soon found the footprints of the two strangers. They led through the bushes and were lost at a small brook that ran into the lake.
“There is no use of our trying to follow this any further,” said Joe. “You’ll get your clothing covered with water and mud.”
“I don’t intend to follow,” answered Ned. “Just the same, I should like to know more about those fellows.”
“I wish I had seen their faces.”
“Yes, it’s a pity we didn’t get a better look at them. But I’d know their voices.”
By the time they gave up the hunt the sun was shining brightly. Both walked to where the boat had been left, and Joe turned the craft over so that the water might run out. Then he mopped off the seats as best he could.
Ned wanted to go directly home, and he and Joe rowed the craft in the direction of Riverside. As they passed along the lake shore the hermit’s boy noted that several trees had been struck by lightning.
“I’m glad the lightning didn’t strike the lodge while we were there,” said he.
“It was certainly a severe storm while it lasted, Joe. By the way, shall I say anything about those two men?”
“Perhaps it won’t do any harm to tell your father, Ned.”
“Very well, I’ll do it.”
Soon Riverside was reached, and having paid for the fish and the outing, Ned Talmadge walked in the direction of his residence. Joe shoved off from the tiny dock and struck out for his home. He did not dream of the calamity that awaited him there.
CHAPTER III
A HOME IN RUINS
As Joe rowed toward his home on the mountain side, a good mile from Riverside, he could not help but think of the two mysterious men and of what they had said.
“They were certainly rascals,” he mused. “And from their talk they must have come from New York and are now going to try some game in Philadelphia.”
The hermit’s boy was tired out by the day’s outing, yet he pulled a fairly quick stroke and it was not long before he reached the dock at which he and Hiram Bodley were in the habit of leaving their boat. He cleaned the craft out, hid the oars in the usual place, and then, with his fishing lines in one hand and a good sized fish in the other, started up the trail leading to the place that he called home.
“What a place to come to, alongside of the
