"Well, who's going with me in the canoe?" asked Bart, and, as Fenn did not care much about making another trip, Ned went, and Frank and Stumpy remained in camp, the latter busying himself over a wonderful pudding he set out to make with a combination of eggs, corn starch, sugar and raisins.
Frank set off in the canoe early the next morning. He took a lunch with him, and told his companions he might be away all night. He was going to try, however, to return by dark. Where he was going he did not say, nor did his chums ask him.
"Good luck!" exclaimed Fenn, as Frank began paddling.
"Thanks," he called back, and his companions waved their hands to him.
"It's very queer," murmured Ned, as he turned back toward the tent.
Frank reached the turn of the river, near the cliff, just before noon. Instead of taking the canoe to the foot of the rock, he hid it in the bushes near the bend of the stream, and then began tramping through the woods toward the sanitarium. He ate his lunch in the woods, and then took up his position near the big tree, whence, on his first visit, he had watched the sad-faced men.
He had to wait several hours. At length the little procession appeared, and Frank's heart beat so loudly he could almost hear it. He stood up and watched the men. Yes, the one he wanted to see was there. How was he to communicate with the man?
Chance, seemingly, gave him the opportunity he desired. There was a little disturbance at the head of the line. One of the patients insisted on taking a different path than the one the attendant designated, and there was a dispute. The guards at the end of the line ran toward the head, leaving the rear men unattended.
Frank ran from behind the tree, toward the procession which had halted. He approached the man, the sight of whom, on the previous occasion, had caused him such wonder. This man did not look up.
"I must have a talk with you in private!"