“Let him!” advised Ned. “He laughs best who has the last inning, you know.”
“Well, maybe—yes. Anyhow, we’ve got our work cut out for us for some time ahead.”
Jerry sat down to read the advertisement over again. There was little to be extracted from it save to confirm the first impression. There was told how the clay was accidentally discovered, and how, after much experimenting, a medicinal use was found for it. Then the efforts of the company to get control of all the available supply were detailed; but nothing was said of the forceful efforts made to induce Mrs. Hopkins to sign away her rights, of which she was in ignorance at the time of making the deed.
“I suppose, legally, they are within their rights,” remarked Jerry, “but, morally, they are not. But I’ll wait and see what the professor says. It looks bad for him; but maybe, after all, he is innocent. He’s a regular kid when it comes to some things, and those fellows may have ‘put one over on him’ without his knowing anything about it.”
“That’s the way to talk!” cried Ned. “I can’t believe the dear old professor would go back on us.”
As their preparations were nearly completed, nothing more was done that night. Jerry’s two chums would meet at his house the next morning, and in the auto would make the journey to the home of the professor, in the vicinity of Boston.
“When will you be back?” asked Mrs. Hopkins, as the motor boys started away in their powerful machine.
“No telling, Mother,” answered Jerry, blowing her a kiss. Then he slipped in the gear lever, let the clutch engage, and they were off.
The weather was fine, the roads good and the boys had nothing at present before them but the trip to the professor’s house. They expected to reach it early that afternoon.
But they counted without accidents. It seemed that Fate had it “in for them.”