“Oh, let him alone,” Case interposed. “We’ve had a stranger with us on every trip, so why not take him along?”
Alex took the speaker by the arm and walked with him back to the cabin.
“Say,” he said then, “this fellow may be all right, but I don’t like the looks of his map.”
“You’ll wash dishes a week for that,” Case announced. “You’re getting so you talk too much slang. Anyway, you shouldn’t say ‘map’—that’s common. Say you don’t like his dial.”
“Oh, I guess I’ll have plenty of help washing dishes,” Alex grunted. “But what are we going to do with this boy?” he added.
Clay now joined the two boys in the cabin and asked the same question.
“It is my idea,” he said, “that the appearance of this lad is in some way connected with the other events of the night.”
“What did you find out about him?” asked Clay.
“He says his name is Max Michel, and that he lives at St. Luce,” was the reply.
“Well,” Clay decided, “we can’t send him away to-night, so we’ll give him a bunk and settle the matter to-morrow.”