"Yes," broke in Nick, who was also in the same narrow boat, as usual gripping the sides, as though to steady his fat form; "believe me, fellows, we're consumed with curiosity to know what that chap in the aeroplane wanted with you."
"Say," came from the lanky Josh, squatted in the roomy Comfort, with his long legs doubled up under him, after the manner of a Turk; "what d'ye think, Jack, Nick here kinder expected to see you toddle aboard that hydroplane, and take a spin up among the clouds. Said 'twould be just like your luck to get hold of such a bully chance."
"Well, hardly," laughed Jack. "But we did make the acquaintance of a pretty fine young fellow, the same we've been reading about so much lately—Malcolm Spence."
"Oh, say! why couldn't we have been along?" grunted George, disconsolately; "for if ever there was a fellow I'd give a heap to meet up with, he's the one. It's a shame, next door to a crime, that we got left out of the deal. But go on, Jack, old chum, and tell us all he said."
Jack accordingly proceeded to do so. He was frequently interrupted by Jimmy, who fancied that he was neglecting some important feature of the story. Between them everything was presently told. And the other four hung upon the narration to the last word.
"Let's see that queer old packet, Jack," said Herb.
"That's so; give us a squint at it, anyhow," Nick demanded.
So the skipper of the Tramp took the letter out carefully and held it up.
"Excuse me for not passing it around, fellows," he remarked, "but I gave my word it shouldn't go out of my possession until I'd found the party mentioned. From the way the young chap acted, I guess it must be more or less valuable, to him and this same party, anyhow."
"What is the name on the envelope—you can tell me that, can't you?" asked Josh.