“You say you can’t reach him at Cub Mountain?” Mrs. Martin inquired.
“No, the people at this hotel say Cub Mountain is only a small settlement, and that there isn’t even a hotel there. If the moving picture company doesn’t set up a camp, Mr. Portnay will probably stop with some friends or in a private boarding house. There may be telephones in some houses or cabins at Cub Mountain, but there is no telegraph station there. The only thing to do will be to go on there.”
“Now?” asked Ted, who was getting hungry and who looked at the Midvale hotel with longing eyes.
“Oh, no, we won’t go on now,” replied his father. “We’ll stay here for the night and travel on to Cub Mountain in the morning. The roads aren’t any too good. I want to travel them by daylight. Well, you may as well get out and come in,” he told his wife and children.
While Mrs. Martin was signing her name to the hotel register, she listened to her husband talking to the clerk about the moving picture actor.
“Yes, he was here,” the clerk said; “he and a number of his company. But the crowd stayed only to eat and then went on. I heard one of them say they had a lot of scenes to take at Cub Mountain, and they wanted to start the work early in the morning.”
“Did you see Mr. Portnay have a reddish brown box, about so large?” inquired Mr. Martin, showing the size of the little chest containing the albums.
“No, he didn’t bring in any baggage,” was the answer.
“Then it’s probably still in his car,” said the Curlytops’ father. “I hope I can get it back to-morrow.”
They went up to their rooms, Ted and his father having one, with two beds in it, while Mrs. Martin took Janet and Trouble in with her.