"Hello there, Porter! What are you doing—fishing?"
"No, I just came down here to sit on the rock and do a little thinking," answered Dave.
"We are making a little trip around the lake," went on Mr. Appleby. "I was going to stop at your dock and deliver a letter that came in our mail by mistake. It's a letter for you, so I might as well give it to you now."
"A letter for me, eh?" answered Dave.
"Yes, here you are!" went on Mr. Appleby, as the motor-boat came to a standstill close by. "I'll put it in the newspaper and you can have that too, as we have read it;" and suiting the action to the word, the man placed the letter in the folds of the paper and tossed the latter ashore.
"Will you stop?" questioned Dave.
"Not to-night. We are going to make a call on the other side of the lake. I just thought I'd give you the letter, that's all," and then, with a pleasant good-bye, the manager steered his motor-boat out into Mirror Lake again.
It was too dark to read the letter without a light, and as Dave did not happen to have even a match, he walked back to the bungalows. The lanterns were hung out on the porches as was the custom, and under the light of one of these he looked at the communication he had received.
"It's from Crumville!" he exclaimed to himself, eagerly, as he looked at the postmark. But then, as he recognized the handwriting, his face fell. "It's only from Nat Poole."
The communication from the money-lender's son was a long one, containing much news which it will be unnecessary to give here. There was, however, one paragraph in the letter which Dave read with great interest.