Young Captain Halstead was already on his feet, his shrewd, keen eyes looking over the veranda crowd. Yet he saw no one upon whom he could settle as a likely suspect. He could only conclude that whoever had casually slipped the paper into his hand had already purposely disappeared.
“I believe I’ll accept this invitation to take a walk,” mused the young skipper. “If there’s anything real behind the note I may as well find out what it is. If there’s nothing but a hoax in it I’ll be willing to admit that I snapped at it.”
There was plenty of time to take the walk and be back before Mr. Delavan’s return was looked for. Asking one of the hotel employes where to find the Bridge Road, young Captain Halstead set out briskly. Nor did he have to go far before he came to the bridge that gave the road its name. A little way past the bridge in question the road became more lonely. Then Halstead came to the edge of a forest, though a thin one of rather recent growth.
“I’ll walk on for five minutes, anyway,” decided Captain Tom. “After that, if nothing happens, it’ll be time to think of turning back.”
“Hist!” That sound came so sharply out of the dark depths that the boy started, then halted abruptly.
“Halstead! Captain Halstead!” hailed a voice.
“Where are you?” Tom asked, in a louder tone than that which greeted him.
“You’re Captain Halstead, are you?” insisted a voice, not much above a whisper, which the young skipper now located in a clump of bushes between two tall spruce trees.
“Yes; I’m Halstead. Who wants me?”