They loitered as the other "trippers", now filled with zeal to catch the

trolley, pushed past them up the glen, and soon they were practically

alone. Nature reasserted her sway as though there had never been

laughter and babble along the musical stream and under the over-arching

trees. The friends walked more and more slowly. A white thing lay on the

path before them, and Dick stooped to pick it up, while Ellery looked on

with mild curiosity.

"It's a letter, stamped and sealed." Percival peered at it closely, for

though the level sunlight flooded the tops of the trees, down here by

the stream it was fast growing dark.

"Not much sealed, either," he added, noticing what a tiny spot of the

flap stuck tight to the paper beneath. "Some one has dropped it here. By

Jove, Ellery, it's addressed to William Barry! I'd give a farm in North

Dakota to know what's in it."

He turned it again and stared at the back.

"I noticed," said Ellery, "that there was a mail-box near where we left

the automobile. You can post it as we go along."

"Yes," assented Dick. He glared at the name of William Barry as though

it fascinated him. Then he tucked the letter into his breast pocket.

As the motor began to champ its bit, Norris remarked: "You forgot to mail that letter, Dick."

"So I did," said Dick. "No matter. I'll post it in town. It will go all

the quicker."




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