“my!” exclaimed tavia, later. “there is a whole lot to making up a plot; isn’t there? and how wise you are,
doro!”
“but you see, my child, you can’t go ahead with this scheme as you first mapped it out,” observed dorothy, drily.
“oh, i see,” agreed her friend. “mr. somes can’t arrest the man who calls himself ‘john smith.’”
“of course not. nor can anybody else arrest him. he has committed no crime in trying to get money for his
information about tom moran.”
“but how will you fix him?”
“you see, if mr. somes will allow the clerk at the general delivery window of the post-office to make some signal
when a person comes to call for this letter i have written, we will have somebody on the watch to follow john smith.
then we’ll find out who he is——”
“if it is a ‘he,’” interposed tavia.
194 “of course it is,” returned her friend. “it’s a man’s handwriting. and a very bad, ignorant man, i am
afraid.”
“he doesn’t belong to dalton, then,” declared tavia, earnestly. “since the liquor crusade, when the saloons were
all shut, we haven’t had many men of bad character in dalton.”
“that’s right,” agreed dorothy. “but you see, there is always a ‘floating population.’ work such as your
father’s company is doing brings in irresponsible men from outside. they have no interest in the fair name of
dalton, so we mustn’t be surprised if they misbehave,” said sensible dorothy.
“but who is going to watch all the time at the post-office?” demanded tavia.
“the window for the delivery of letters is open from eight till eight. we’ll get the boys to help us take turns.
there are you and me, johnny, joe and roger—even roger isn’t too little to follow the man and find out where he
lives,” said dorothy, briskly. “then we can pull my cousins, and bob niles, and abe perriton into it. that makes
nine of us. nine in twelve hours—— what does nine in twelve make, tavia?”
“one hour and twenty minutes each—about. oh, all right!” exclaimed tavia. “of course we can watch. but the
question is: will that do any good?”
195 dorothy would not listen to any croaking. she wrote the decoy letter, and the two girls went down town and saw
mr. somes privately. he knew both tavia’s father and major dale; and when the girls from glenwood disclosed to the
postmaster just why they wished to find tom moran, and all about celia, and the letter dorothy had received from
“john smith,” he agreed to help them.
it was arranged, however, that the letter should not be put in the mail until the following morning, so that the
girls might fully arrange the “watch-and-watch” on the general delivery letter window.
their boy friends fell into the scheme with alacrity. dorothy and tavia did not explain entirely their interest in
tom moran, nor why there was such a hue and cry after that red-haired young man; but——
“it doesn’t matter,” said one of the lads, cheerfully. “if dot says she wants to find the chap—and this fellow
who wrote the bum letter—we’ll do just what she says. dot’s all right, you know, fellows!”
but that very morning there came word over the telephone to abe perriton’s house that started the excitement in a
new quarter. a man named polk, who ran a sawmill on upper creek, asked mr. perriton to hire several men in dalton if
he196 could, as he had work that must be rushed and he needed an extra force of hands.
“and i haven’t been able to hire a soul up here, except tom moran, who came along last night. and i’m afraid he
won’t stay. he’ll not promise to.”
“here, abe,” said mr. perriton. “didn’t i hear something about your friends wanting to see tom moran? he’s up
to polk’s mill.”
that was enough. the boys started with the firebird inside of ten minutes picking up dorothy and tavia on the way.
but nobody thought to telephone to the mill man to ask him to hold the red-haired man until the firebird party
arrived.
it was over another rough road to polk’s mill on upper creek. “dear, dear,” complained tavia, “i am half in
doubt whether the geographers have got it right. perhaps the world isn’t round. i don’t see how it can be when it
is so awful bumpy!”
“you feel like nat did, i guess,” chuckled ned. “that was when my lovely brother was a whole lot younger than he
is now—hey, nat?”
“what’s the burn?” asked nathaniel white, esquire.
“’member when miss baker put the poser to you in intermediate school? ’member about it, boy?”
“oh, that’s an old one,” grunted nat.
197 “let’s hear it—do,” cried dorothy. “did nattie miss his lesson?”
“he wasn’t paying much attention, i reckon,” said ned, just scaling a corner post as they took a turn, and
scaring a squawking flock of hens almost into “nervous prosperity,” as tavia called it. “miss baker was giving us
fits in the physical geography line. she snaps one at nat:
“‘what’s the shape of the earth, nathaniel?’
“‘oh! ugh-huh? round,’ says nat, just barely waking up.
“‘how do you know it’s round?’ demands miss baker.
“‘all right,’ says nat. ‘it’s square, then. i don’t mean to argue about it!’”
“aw, i never!” cried nat, as the others shouted their appreciation of the story. “that’s just one of ned’s
yarns.”
with similar “carryings-on” they lightened the rough way to the sawmill camp. the last mile they had to walk,
leaving the firebird at a farmer’s place. there was no such thing as taking the automobile to the camp.
“i hope tom moran is here,” said dorothy, again and again, to her friend, tavia. “but i feel as though we were
due to have another disappointment.”
“oh, i hope not,” groaned tavia.
the boys would not keep to the wood road, but198 scrambled over stumps and brambles, raising the hue and cry after
timid rabbits, starting an old cock partridge now and then, and chasing chipmunks along the fences.
“i’d love to have a woodchuck bake,” abe perriton said. “the kids say they’ve found several woodchuck holes up
near the rouse place.”
“joe and roger, you mean?” asked dorothy, to whom abe was speaking.
“and octavia’s brother jack. yes. those kids would find woodchucks if there were any in the county. m-m-m! did you
ever eat woodchuck, tavia?”
“sure i did. but i never expect to enjoy a woodchuck bake again. i’m grown up now,” called tavia, from her
position in the lead with bob niles.
“if the kids really have found the holes—and mr. woodchuck is home,” said abe, “we might have a picnic, even if
it is cold weather—say day after to-morrow.”
“nice weather for a picnic,” laughed dorothy. “see! there’s still some snow in the fence corners.”
“and the groundhogs will be as poor as job’s turkey,” said tavia, who understood about such things better, even,
than a boy.
“hurrah! there’s the mill,” shouted nat.
the whine of the saw as it cut through a log199 floated down to them through the aisles of the wood. they hurried to
reach their destination.
the saw was flying and the few men about the mill were working speedily. mr. polk himself, whom they knew by sight,
was dragging a huge log out of the water by the aid of a chain and a small engine. but nowhere in sight was “that
redhead.”
“hello, abe perriton!” shouted the master of the mill. “your father going to send that gang? or are you huskies—
and the little ladies—goin’ to roll logs for me?”
“i guess father will send along men. but we’ll roll that one for you, mr. polk,” laughed abe, as the huge log
came up the runway to the mill.
the boys grabbed canthooks and helped put the log in place upon the carriage. the girls looked on with interest, for
the working of a sawmill with a disk-saw of this size is not uninteresting.
“but that log’s got a hollow in it, mr. polk,” advised tavia, the sharp-eyed.
“i know it, miss. but the grain of the wood’s so straight, and the hollow’s so small, that i believe we’re going
to get some mighty fine planks out of it, just the same,” replied the sawyer.
“ask him about tom moran,” begged dorothy, sotto-voce.
“just wait till he gets this log on the carriage. now it goes!” exclaimed the interested tavia.
200 the saw struck the hollow place the first clip, the outside slab was cut off, and out of the hollow flopped
something that made the girls scream.
“a snake!” gasped dorothy.
“maybe it’s an eel,” said tavia.
but quick-eyed nat jumped for it and held up the flopping creature. it was a beautiful brook trout more than two
feet long.
“great find, boy!” declared mr. polk. “the law ain’t off until april first; but i reckon that’s your kill.”
“we’ll have the picnic, anyway!” laughed bob niles. “i bet trout baked in the ashes beats woodchuck all to
pieces!”
dorothy had come close to the sawyer now and tapped him on the arm.
“oh, sir!” she exclaimed. “isn’t tom moran here with you?”
polk’s face clouded. “the red-haired rascal wouldn’t stay. he don’t like sawmill work. he worked for me
yesterday and started in this morning; but an hour before you came he lit out.”
“gone?” gasped dorothy.
“yes, ma’am!”
“and you don’t know where he’s gone?” broke in tavia.
“couldn’t tell ye,” said polk. “he lit out—walkin’—toward pollinary. but that’s twenty mile from here. dunno
as he’ll go that far.”
