"That's a good distance," commented Bart.
"And lonesome," added Fenn.
"But it's just right for camping," Frank went on. "We don't want to put up our tent in the middle of a village. The wilder place we can find the better."
"There's something in that," Bart admitted. "I'd like to camp where we couldn't hear a railroad whistle or a factory bell. But what's your idea going so far into the woods, Frank?"
"Nothing in particular, I only happened to think of it," but Frank's manner showed that he had some reason for the suggestion, and did not want to tell his chums. Ned was the only one of the three who noticed it, however, and he concluded to say nothing, but to keep close watch over Frank.
"The far end of the big woods," mused Bart aloud. "That is the place Mr. Hardman was inquiring about. By the way, Frank, did you ever catch him?"
"No, he went to Lockport. I wrote to a friend there, as I didn't have time to go myself, and I got an answer that no one of that name was at any of the hotels. So I concluded there wasn't much use bothering any more. But I'll find him some day, and when I do—" Frank paused. His chums looked at him, wondering at the emphasis he put in his words. "But let's talk about camping," the boy went on. "What do you say? Shall we go to the woods?"
"Suits me," remarked Ned, and the others agreed that it would be as much fun, for the vacation season, as anything they could propose.
They were soon busy talking over the details, arranging about the tent and the cooking utensils, and discussing the best way of transporting their camp stuff. They made some inquiries the next day and learned that by going to Lockport they could enter the woods by an old trail, seldom used, and could travel much more easily than if they worked their way in by the corduroy road.
"That's what we'll do," decided Ned. "Then, Frank, maybe you can have a chance to find your friend, Mr. Hardman."