“’Twa’n’t dry when we tackled it,” sadly observed Sam. “It was as good a prospect as heart could wish when I spent my money and yours in it, wa’n’t it Uncle Tod?” he appealed.
“It sure was, Sam,” agreed the other.
“And then, all of a sudden, the water petered out,” went on Mr. Rockford, gloomily shaking his head. “I sent word to Jake Teeter to give you the message,” he added.
“Yes, and Jake did—in his usual mysterious way,” said Uncle Tod.
“Oh, was that the message wrapped in a cabbage leaf?” asked Rick, eagerly. “We’ve been wondering about that.”
“Yes,” said Uncle Tod. “There wasn’t any need of letting me know in that crazy, old-time Indian fashion, but Jake Teeter always was that way—he never comes right out and says anything straight. If he wanted to let you know he’d been to the post office and got a letter for you, and you happened to be in with a crowd of others, what do you reckon Jake’d do?” asked Uncle Tod.
“I haven’t the least idea,” answered Mr. Campbell, for the question seemed to be directed at him.
“Well,” went on Uncle Tod, “Jake, instead of coming right out and handing you the letter, openly, would attract your attention, somehow, by making signs. Then, when he got you out of the crowd, he’d slip you the missive as if it was something contraband.”
“Why?” asked Mr. Campbell with a chuckle.
“Oh, it’s just his mysterious way of doing things. He lives on the sign language—picked it up from the Indians—he camped among ’em a good many years,” explained Uncle Tod. “Why, you’d hardly believe it, but Jake, instead of telling you grub was ready, would sneak up to you, and cautiously show you a knife and fork sticking in an inside pocket, somewhat like he’d taken it off a hotel table without the waitress seeing him. Oh, Jake’s the limit when it comes to sending mysterious messages.”