“Oh, that’s all right. We have all summer to make the changes in, and Bob and I can be doing part of it at odd times, while you’re working with your father on the books. Of course, I mean when we’re not looking for Mr. Jackson; eh, Bob?”
“Do you think I’m going to help?” demanded the stout lad.
“Well, you’re in the minority, and you always said the majority ought to govern. We’re two to your one.”
“Oh, all right, go ahead!” exclaimed Bob, with a gesture of despair. “Put a bath-room in the Comet if you like, and I suppose I’ll have to stand for it.”
“No, you can lie down when you take a bath,” observed Ned, with a grin, and his chums laughed, taking it as a sign that the lad was forgetting some of his worries.
“Then we’ll go ahead when we get the chance,” observed Jerry. “But now let’s go down to your father’s store, Ned, and tell him we are on the job.”
“And get some idea of where to hunt for this mysterious Mr. Jackson,” suggested Bob.
“Sure—yes,” agreed Jerry.
“Oh, I don’t know that he’s so mysterious,” remarked Ned. “It’s only that he is a very busy man, and has so many interests—railroads, mines, ships, building canals and trolley lines—so many irons in the fire, that he may be in New York one day, and off for London or San Francisco the next. That’s why he’s so hard to get hold of.