Jerry fell back into a chair and breathed heavily. The packet was gone—into the hands of the enemy!
“The man said it was his package,” said Crazy Jim. “He gave me a reward of five dollars for returning it to him.”
“It was mine. He wanted to steal it—and now he’s done it,” cried Jerry. “You let him have it but an hour ago?”
“Yes.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you open the packet?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t make nothing out of it—’cos I ain’t eddicated. I read his name on it and got another fellow to write a postal card yesterday afternoon. He came here, examined the papers, and seemed much pleased.”
“No doubt he was pleased,” groaned the young oarsman.
“Was the thing worth much?”