“Oh, yes, sir!” said Helen. “And the reason why I came instead of one of the boys was that Phil and Chap are so angry there is no knowing what they would have said. And as to Phœnix Poole, he is so good and quiet, and always behaves so well, that when he does get roused up he is perfectly terrible. That is the way he came to thrash the French boy.”
“I am glad he did not come,” said Mr. Welford. “I would much rather have had you than any of them. And now, good-by! I will give attention to all you have told me.”
As Helen drove away, and thought of all she had said to Mr. Welford, and how she had stood up and talked to that respectable and dignified gentleman, just as if he had been a boy or a girl of her own age, she covered her face with her hands and cried all the way home.
That day was a busy one at Hyson Hall. Early in the morning Joel announced to Phil that the wheat crop was ready to be harvested, and that hands must be engaged for the work. To Phil’s statement that there was no money to pay these hands, Joel simply answered that the crop must be got in, no matter what happened; and, if there was no money, some wheat would have to be threshed out and sold to pay the men. He admitted that this was a poor way of doing business, for wheat would bring a low price at this season, but, then, Mr. Godfrey might be back before the work was done and everything would be all right. It was, therefore, agreed that Joel should start early the next day to look up hands.
Preparations for the harvest occupied Phil and Joel all day. Phœnix was not there, and Chap was left much to himself. He had come to the conclusion that the state of affairs on this place demanded that the man with the black straw hat should come to the front.
To be sure, that individual had requested to be summoned only upon Mr. Godfrey Berkeley’s return; but Chap thought if he could do any good he ought to come now. If he had any plan about getting the treasure out of that wreck, this was the time for him to go to work to do it; or it might be that he could make statements that would enable them to raise money, not only for wrecking purposes, but for the general needs of the estate.
So he took from his pocket the postal-card that the man had given him—which by this time had become pretty well rumpled and a little dirty—and prepared to write a note on it. The card was addressed to “Mr. Alexander Muller, 340 Sixth Avenue, New York.”
Chap had an idea that this message should be something like a telegram,—very compact and to the point,—a message which the person receiving it should understand, and no one else. So, after a good deal of thought and study, he produced the following:
“Personage you were on track of not arrived. Your immediate presence demanded. If necessary, order batteries sent. Additional reasons for secrecy and despatch.
“Ch——n W——r.”