“As soon as you are dressed, Phil,” whispered his chum, “I want you to come outside and listen to something I have to tell you. But don’t say anything to Dave or the others about it. Slip out as quietly as you can. I don’t want them to think that we’ve anything in secret between us.” And then before the shipowner’s son could answer, Roger tiptoed away and commenced to dress rapidly and silently.
A few minutes later found both of the corporals outside of the shelter which served them for sleeping quarters. Then Roger motioned Phil away, and they walked quite a distance, to a place where they would be safe from interruption.
“I want to tell you about that letter I received from Laura yesterday,” began the senator’s son. “It’s got something in it, Phil, that I don’t like at all.”
“I hope it isn’t any serious trouble for you, Roger.”
“It isn’t trouble for me, Phil. That is, except in a general way—the same way it might affect you too. It’s trouble for Dave.”
“Dave! Why, what’s happened? Nobody sick or hurt, I hope?”
“No; it’s nothing like that. Did you ever meet a young fellow by the name of Max Gebauer?”
Phil thought for a moment. “It seems to me I did. A tall, thin fellow with blue eyes and light hair. We met him once or twice at the Wadsworth jewelry works.”
“That’s the chap. His folks have jewelry works of some kind in Philadelphia, and this Max Gebauer came to Crumville to see Mr. Wadsworth on business.”
“Well, how does that affect Dave?”