“I don’t see why not. We can get ready in an hour or two, I guess,” Bob answered.
“That’ll be fine,” the officer assured them. “Now I have already arranged things so that you can always get in touch with me with as little delay as possible. You see, I took it for granted that you would go in for it,” he smiled. “Here is an address and a telephone number. There will always be someone there night and day who will know where I am and how to reach me.”
The officer left soon after, saying that he had to catch the afternoon train for Bangor.
“But I’ll see you again within a few days if nothing happens. And remember, I don’t want or expect you to take any chances where there will be any danger,” were his parting words.
“Well, I can feel it in my bones that we are in for a big time,” Jack declared gleefully as they waved him good-bye.
CHAPTER III
BOB HAS AN ADVENTURE.
The little town of Jackman lies almost due north of Skowhegan and is about seventy-five miles distant. Numerous lakes and ponds, noted for their fish, abound within a few miles of the town, which is a sporting center. The road closely follows the Kennebec River for nearly fifty miles. At the little village, called The Forks, due to the fact that here the Dead River joins the Kennebec, it leaves the river and bears slightly to the west.
“Don’t see that the place has changed much,” Jack smiled as shortly before noon the following day the boys stopped their motor cycles in front of the little hotel at The Forks. “Place looks about the same as it did last May when we were here with the drive.”
“But the road don’t look much as it did then,” Bob laughed.