"Well, to be honest with you, I really believe the old gentleman did act a little that way. Perhaps, it was because he'd heard Owen mention my name as one of his few friends; and Mr. Dugdale was wanting to show how pleased he felt to know me. Yes, he acted as if he would like to see me again; in fact, he asked me to come in some time, and visit Owen in his den, for the boy often seemed lonely, he told me."
"Poor Owen! let's hope this will all come out right in the end, then," Hugh finally said, as though his own mind was made up not to allow the latest discovery to influence him against the Dugdale boy.
"But we've got to admit," added the other, seriously, "that it adds to the tangle a heap, and makes it look worse than before. However, I'll try and learn a thing or two. Give me a little, time to get my slow wits working, Hugh; and I may have more news for you. All the same, it wouldn't surprise me if you took a spurt and came in across the line ahead of me."
"Whatever makes you say that?" demanded Hugh.
"Oh! I know you so well, that's all," laughed his chum, giving him a nudge in the side with his elbow. "I wager the chances are ten to one you're beginning to turn over a little scheme in your mind right now. How about that, Hugh?"
"If I am," retorted the other, "I don't intend telling you the first thing about it until there's some solid foundation for the theory to rest on."
"Same here," chuckled Thad, with a wink that had a deal of significance about it, Hugh could see. "Mebbe I've got a whiff of an idea myself that might turn out worth while; but wild horses couldn't drag a hint of the same from me so early in the game. So we're quits on that score, you see, Hugh."
The other jumped down off the wide-topped post, as though he thought he should be continuing on his way home.
"I must be going, Thad," he remarked. "Supper-time, almost, you know; and besides I have some chores to do. When a fellow will keep pets the way I do, he's got to expect to spend some little time looking after them. I wouldn't want to let any of mine suffer for lack of attention."
"And I wager they never do, Hugh!" declared the other, with his customary stanch faith in his chum. "You have it fixed so that your homing pigeons can always get feed from a trough that allows only a scant ration to come down at a time, your 'lazy boy's self-feeder,' I've heard you call it. And as for those fine Belgian hares that would take first prize at any rabbit show, they live on the fat of the land. Right now you're cultivating a bed of lettuce for them, as well as a lot of cabbages, and such truck. Oh! no fear of any dumb beast, or bird going hungry when it has Hugh Morgan for an owner."