“I’m going to make a big try!” exclaimed the young reporter, as he put the scrap of paper away in his pocket-book.
There was nothing more that Larry could learn at the place where the stolen boy had been held captive. With one last glance about the rooms he came away, and, after thanking Mrs. Christensen for the aid she had given, he hastened to tell the news to the waiting mother.
Mrs. Androletti was at once comforted and alarmed. It was joy to her to know that her son was alive. But she was alarmed when Larry spoke of Lake Huron.
“Oh, the terrible water!” she exclaimed. “I know when we came over from Italy, though we were on a great ship, Lorenzo was frightened. He does not like the water, and he never did. I am not afraid of it, but, oh, for him! What shall we do? Where shall we look for him now?”
“Well,” remarked Larry, “I suppose one thing is as good as another. I’m all at sea, except for the fact that it is somewhere on Lake Huron that those men have taken your son. They may have only crossed the lake, but, in that case, I think they would have mentioned some city on the other side, or some destination, and Lorenzo would have written that instead of the name of the lake itself, as nearly as he could catch it. So what I have to propose is this:
“I will engage a small boat, and cruise about looking for him. I can easily hire a motor launch here, and though it may take some time to get on the trail, it is the only thing I see that can be done.”
“And I agree with you,” spoke Mrs. Androletti. “But suppose they have taken Lorenzo on a long trip, on some big steamer, that goes over all the lakes?”
“I don’t believe they would do that,” said Larry. “They would be afraid of being discovered. This case has attracted so much attention, there has been so much published about it, and your boy’s picture has been in so many papers, that those who have stolen him have to keep under cover with him.
“This is very evident from the fact that they picked out such a poor tenement place to stay with him. No, they won’t try to take him on board any of the big steamers. They’ll hire a small boat, I think, and keep out on the lake until such time as they can come ashore, and go to some place where they can hide.”
“Oh, do you think so?” cried the singer. “But what is their object? Why do they torture me so? Why are they holding my boy from me? Why do they not demand half my fortune? and I would gladly give it to them—yes, all of it. For life is nothing to me without him!”