"Probably he's got friends who can spell it out for him, and I'm sure I don't care how much publicity he gives it. 'And there we took out seventy thousand dollars,'" said Bob. "Go on; what next? They went to Canada after that, didn't they? There is where all the crooks go these days."
"Put it down, anyway. 'So we went to Canady (be careful about the spelling) and staid there till the country got too hot for us.' That reads all right," said Tom, throwing himself into the big rocking-chair, and wondering, like the minister in the "One-Hoss Shay," what the Moses should come next. "Don't forget to say something about the 'hant' who guards the treasure in the cave."
"Can't you wait till I come to the cave?" replied Bob, who could not print the letter as fast as his friend could think up things to put into it. "I don't altogether approve of this ghost business, anyway. I am afraid it will scare the old fellow so badly that he will make no attempt to find the treasure that is concealed in the cave."
"Don't you worry about that," Tom replied. "All we've got to do is to word the letter so that he will believe the money is really there, and he will go after it, even if he knew that he would have to face all the ghosts that ever haunted the Summerdale hills; and their name is legion, if there is any faith to be put in the stories I have heard."
"I say, Tom," exclaimed Bob, throwing down his pen and settling-back in his chair, "wouldn't it be a joke if some of those same ghosts should take it into their heads to visit us during the winter? It must be lonely up there in the mountains, when the roads are blocked with drifts, and all communication with the outside world is cut off, and wouldn't we feel funny if we should hear something go this way some dark and stormy night—b-r-r-r?"
Here Bob uttered a hollow groan, drew his head down between his shoulders, and tried to shiver and look frightened.
"No doubt it would; but we shan't hear anything go this way—b-r-r-r," replied Tom, imitating Bob's groan as nearly as he could. "Now I think you had better go on with that letter, and I will draw the map that is to guide him in his search for the robbers' cave and plunder. We've wasted a good hour and a half already; and if we don't hurry up, we shan't be able to give him the letter to-day. Let me think a moment! There's a deep gorge about a quarter of a mile from Morgan's wood-pile, and I don't believe it has ever been explored. That would be a good place to put the cave, wouldn't it?"
Bob said he thought it would, and went on with his writing, while Tom hunted up a piece of paper and began drawing the map.
Bob pronounced it perfect when his friend presented it for his inspection, and indeed it ought to have been. There was no one in the neighborhood who was better acquainted with the hills than Silas Morgan, and if the map had guided him to a place that really had no existence, except in Tom's imagination, he would have known in a minute that somebody was trying to play a trick upon him.
The letter was finished at last, to the entire satisfaction of both the boys, and the next thing was to put it where the man for whom it was intended would be sure to find it.