“Now let’s pull out for town and see Denton and look up Simmons, just to see what he has to say for himself,” suggested Dick.
The chums slung their packs over their shoulders, for they seldom went anywhere without them, not knowing at what moment they might be called on to make a hurried move.
The work of making the trap had required about two hours, and the walk to town generally took them an hour. This morning it was a trifle longer, for the day was fine, and there was no especial need of haste, hence they sauntered along at an easy pace, while chattering about half a dozen different topics.
They reached town about ten in the morning and proceeded to the general store. Denton was sitting on the front porch, his usual place when the duties of the store did not demand his attention.
He saw the boys approaching and waved to them as they walked up the street.
“Well, what news this morning?” asked Garry.
“Nothing much more than usual. Simmons was in this morning and looked around and asked when the next batch of registered letters was expected, and then said he was going to drive to Coldenham, and off he went.”
“Why should he ask you when registered letters would come?” asked Garry, who was rather puzzled at what seemed the peculiarity of the question.
“How are you supposed to know anything about when certain letters will arrive?”
“Lately, Ferguson’s office has been calling me on the telephone to let me know when money was expected, in the hope that I could exercise special care for the safety of the letters. Of course I told Simmons about it, so it was natural that he should ask me about this.”