“I am glad we are making a start toward something, anyway,” Worth remarked, when he and Paul had waved good-bye to the two on the train, and turned toward the hotel again.
“Tell you what, though, Bill! Let’s just keep right on the job every minute, ourselves, and maybe we can surprise the fellows—get hold of something awfully important.” Paul was pretty serious.
“Sure!” said Billy.
Then came the stumbling block. It was all very well to say “keep on the job,” but just what to do that might be worth while was another problem.
“Funny we never heard a word from that ‘A. W. Kull, Harkville, New York,’ if our telegram was ever delivered there,” said Worth, thinking aloud, somewhat later. “Let’s ask the office here to find out what became of our message. It won’t cost anything.”
“Oh, gravy! That has nothing to do with us! It’s the Six we’re after, Bill!” But notwithstanding this objection, the Griffin telegraph office was asked for the information.
The operator kindly offered to send a service message, as it is called, desiring the Harkville office to report on the matter. Harkville replied in due time. The message to “A. W. Kull” was delivered at his residence. Why it was not answered the telegraph people did not know, of course.
During the afternoon the boys also met Chief Fobes. With his stick under his arm, he leaned against a railing at the Bank building, eating peanuts.
“Nothin’ doin’,” was his reply to their inquiry. “Ain’t likely to be,” he added, discouragingly. “It ain’t our luck, somehow. It may be here or any place around here that something will happen, but of course the gentry don’t stay in these smaller places, and it’s always in the bigger towns that they’re nabbed if they don’t get away altogether.”
“Oh, yes, I see,” said Billy Worth, but when he and Paul had walked on, he remarked: “No, it is not Mr. Fobes’ luck to catch anything. I reckon he banks more on luck than he does on work, though.”