"Hold it up and look about," he said. "It's somewhere round here Jardine has his letter box nailed up on a tree."
Frank presently discovered an empty powder keg fixed to a big fir, and Mr. Webster, wriggling out of the straps, dropped the bag with a thud. As it happened, it descended in a patch of mud.
"Hold the light so I can see to sort this truck," he said, and plunged his hand into the bag. It was white when he brought it out.
"Something's got adrift," he commented. "They never can tie a package right in the store."
With some difficulty he at last found the letters, though this necessitated his spreading out most of the rest and the groceries on the wet soil. Then he deposited those that belonged to Jardine in the keg and went on again.
Dense darkness filled the narrow rift in the bush and the feeble rays of the lantern were more bewildering than useful, but they covered another two miles before they stopped at a second keg, when Webster discovered that a couple of letters he fished out were stuck together with half-melted sugar. He tore them apart and rubbed them clean upon his trousers, smearing out the address as he did so.
"It's lucky I looked at them first, because I couldn't tell whose they are now," he said. "Anyway, as I guess the stuff hasn't had time to get inside, Steve will know they're his when he opens them." He raised the bag a little and examined it. "This thing's surely wet."
"I expect it is," said Harry. "The last time you stopped you dumped it in the mud. Didn't they give you some sugar for this place at the store?"
"Why, yes," said Mr. Webster. "I was forgetting it. Hold the lantern lower, Frank, while I look for it."
He pulled the flour bag wider open and presently produced a big paper package which seemed to have lost its shape.