“Where’s that?”
“Up toward Mendon. About a hundred and twenty miles north of here.”
“What’s up there? Say, it isn’t peddling books, is it? I tried that one time and nearly starved to death. Sold four sets of Murray’s Compendium of Universal History and cleared just eleven dollars and eighty cents in a month!”
Tom smiled. “No, it’s—— Here’s—here’s the letter I got this morning. You can read it for yourself. I don’t know why they wrote to me unless this chap has bought goods from us. I haven’t looked him up yet.”
Sam took the brief typewritten letter and read it. It was addressed to “Manager Sporting Goods Department, Cummings and Wright, Amesville, Ohio,” and was as follows:
“Dear Sir:—Do you happen to know of a young man who will accept a position in a boys’ camp this summer, July 5 to September 13? We’ve only been running one year and can’t offer big pay, but we’ll provide comfortable sleeping quarters and plenty of good food and pay five a week. If you know of anyone, please drop me a line right away. Applicant must be moral, know something about handling boys—we take them from eleven to fifteen—and able to help instruct in athletics. References required. Thanking you in advance for any trouble I am putting you to,
“Respectfully,
“Warren Langham, Director.”
The letter was typed on a sheet of paper bearing at the top the legend: “The Wigwam; a Summer Camp for Boys, Indian Lake, Ohio. Warren Bradley Langham, A.M., Director.”