IN THE SHOOTING GALLERY
Fenn’s suggestion gave a new impetus to the hunt, which was renewed with energy. Mrs. Masterson, who heard from the boys what had taken place, joined them in searching through the long grass of the back yard for the turtle. But it was not to be found.
“It’s very likely a good distance from here,” said Fenn, who was well versed in the habits of the reptiles. “They go slow, but they keep it up, and this one has had two days’ start. We’ll have to hunt farther off than this for him.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do!” declared Frank. “We’ll organize ourselves into a hunting party for a diamond-studded turtle,” and he laughed.
“It’s no laughing matter, though,” declared Bart. “If we go back and tell that kind of a yarn we’ll look ridiculous.”
“Then why tell it?” inquired Ned. “Let’s keep mum about that part of it, too. We’ll simply report to Professor Long that we can’t find his wife’s bracelet, or the turtle, either, but every spare minute we get we’ll be on the lookout for the reptile.”
“And the man, too,” added Fenn. “We want to find out who he was.”
“Of course,” agreed Bart. “We should have given the alarm when we saw him going in the school, but it’s too late now. Come on back, and take our medicine.”
It was not a very happy quartette of lads who made their way back to the Darewell High School. They went directly to Professor Long, who turned his physics class over to another instructor, and conducted the chums to his private room.
“Well?” he asked suggestively.