“He wouldn’t do that without telling me,” said Mr. Martin. “No, something else happened. I wish I knew what. I’d like to get those albums back.”
While Mr. Martin was still nervously pacing up and down beside his auto and Mrs. Martin was making another search among the robes and valises for the box, one of the cowboys who had taken part in the moving picture rode past. Ted and Janet looked at him with eager eyes, for he was a hero to them.
Seeing the children, the actor smiled, and then, noticing that something was wrong, he stopped his horse, removed his big, broad-brimmed hat in a bow to Mrs. Martin and asked:
“Is anything wrong? Can I help you? Did some of our people bump into your car? I know that sometimes happens when a crowd gathers as we are taking films.”
“No, nothing like that happened,” answered Mr. Martin. “But I left a box with some valuable books in it here in my car, and now the box is gone. I suppose some one in the crowd thought it contained food and made off with it. I wish they’d bring it back, for the books are of no value except as keepsakes to a family in Bentville where we are going.”
“What sort of box was it?” asked the cowboy, one of the last of the moving picture actors to leave the green meadow near the white bridge.
“It was a dark red wooden box, with inlaid pieces of light wood,” Mr. Martin explained. “It had a brass handle to carry it by. It was a box I used to keep my papers in at my store. But I had put these books in it for safety. I might better have left them out.”
“Was it a box about so long?” asked the cowboy, holding his hands out about two feet apart.
“Yes,” answered Mr. Martin.
“Then I know where it is!” exclaimed the cowboy.