"Can you write me a letter from there?"
"Certainly. I will do so with pleasure, and shall be glad to hear from you."
"All right. I ain't much on scribblin'. I can hold a plow better'n a pen. But I guess I can write a few pot-hooks, jest to let yer know I'm alive an' kickin'."
"It's a bargain, then."
"Jest give me your name on a piece of paper, so I shall know where to write."
"All right. I happen to know where we are going to stop there. Mr. Sharpley mentioned that we should stop at the Hotel des Bergues. I haven't got a card with me, but I'll put the address on an old envelope."
Frank took from his pocket what he supposed to be Mr. Craven's letter to him, and on the reverse side wrote:
Frank Hunter,
Hotel des Bergues,
Geneva,
Switzerland.
Mr. Tarbox took it and surveyed it critically; then read it as follows: