"Why, this letter was written by that Doctor Hooker Montgomery, the man whose silk hat we knocked off!" cried Dave.
"His education seems to be extremely limited," observed Phil. "He'd never stand at the top of the spelling class, would he?"
"I was asking about him, and he's a regular fakir," said Roger. "He isn't a doctor at all, although he calls himself one. He puts up a number of medicines and calls them 'Montgomery's Wonderful Cures.' I was told that he used to do quite a business among the ignorant country folks, but lately hardly anybody patronizes him."
"And that is why he is willing to aid Jasniff in some scheme, I suppose," said Phil. "I'll wager it is something underhanded. When are they to meet?"
"It doesn't say," answered Dave. "But the postmark is a week old, so I presume the meeting is a thing of the past. I guess I'll not keep the letter," he concluded, and cast it on the ground where he had found it.
Arriving at where the rowboat had been tied up, the three chums looked around carefully, and soon saw footprints leading to a little cove, shaded by tall elderberry bushes. Pushing some of the bushes aside, Dave looked into the water and gave a cry:
"Here she is, fellows!"
"Have you really found the boat, Dave?" questioned Phil.
"Yes. She's at the bottom of the cove. They piled her full of stones and sunk her. They must have had quite a job doing it."
"And here are the oars!" exclaimed Roger, dragging them from the bushes. "Say, it's going to be cold work getting that boat into shape for use," he added, for the sun was going down and the air was keen.