This program suited Clancy to perfection. On their way down to the street, however, he stopped and asked the clerk whether Chip had left any message for him.
“Sure, Mr. Clancy. Said he’d be back before noon.”
“Huh? And when was that?”
“A little before seven this morning.”
“Holy smoke!” cried Clancy. “Before seven! Then Merry’s been gone for three hours, Billy! He isn’t down at the river, you boob!”
“Quit calling names,” retorted Billy, a trace of anxiety in his clear eyes. “It didn’t improve your manners to go West, I reckon. Sure, we’ll go down and see, anyhow. He might be asleep in the sun down there.”
Clancy asked the clerk if he knew where Merry had gone. The clerk, mindful of Chip’s injunction, said that he “couldn’t say,” and the two friends went off toward the river in helpless wonderment.
Billy said nothing, but he was not a little worried. Clancy suspected nothing wrong, though he knew that it was not Chip’s usual custom to disappear without leaving any word of where he had gone.
Upon reaching the mill pond they found no sign of Merry. Clancy scoffed at the fears of his friend, so they stripped and took a hasty dip, then dressed and made their way back to the hotel.
“If he don’t show up pretty soon,” said Billy, “mother will be all balled up with her chicken dinner, Clan.”