There was no difficulty in locating the blazed oak which stood close to the camp. Glen had no watch, but he went early enough to be quite sure of being there by ten o'clock. Then he waited and waited. He was about to give it up as a hoax, when a man slipped quietly out of the woods and advanced toward him. Glen fell into a position of defense as he saw that it was his old enemy, Jervice.
"Now, don't go actin' up," begged Mr. Jervice. "I ain't goin' to do nothin' only tell you how to git into a good thing. I'm the man as wrote that letter."
"You are!" exclaimed Glen. "What do you know about the treasure?"
"I know all about it," Jervice assured him confidentially. "I'm the only feller that can help you git a slice. They's jest one question—are you willin' to go in an' will you keep mum. I don't tell nothin' till you tell me."
"Am I willing? Are you crazy? You bet I'm willing. Try me."
"Well, listen here then. I thought you'd be the feller. Who can I get as is good an' strong an' yet not much over boys' size, thinks I. Then I thinks of you. 'That reform school boy,' I says to myself. 'He's the very feller. Likely he's done this kind of a job before.'"
"I've never had anything to do with treasure before, and I don't know what you mean," said Glen. "Hurry up and tell about it. I want to be back at camp for the swim at eleven o'clock."
"Come over to my car," invited the artful Jervice. "It ain't very far an' we won't be in no danger of being interrupted."
"How's that boy you hit?" asked the peddler as they journeyed. "That was a awful crack you give him."
"He's all right and able to be about," Glen assured him. "I'm sorry I hit him."