“That’s right,” agreed Dorothy. “But you see, there is always a ‘floating population.’ Work such as your father’s company is doing brings in irresponsible men from outside. They have no interest in the fair name of Dalton, so we mustn’t be surprised if they misbehave,” said sensible Dorothy.
“But who is going to watch all the time at the post-office?” demanded Tavia.
“The window for the delivery of letters is open from eight till eight. We’ll get the boys to help us take turns. There are you and me, Johnny, Joe and Roger—even Roger isn’t too little to follow the man and find out where he lives,” said Dorothy, briskly. “Then we can pull my cousins, and Bob Niles, and Abe Perriton into it. That makes nine of us. Nine in twelve hours—— What does nine in twelve make, Tavia?”
“One hour and twenty minutes each—about. Oh, all right!” exclaimed Tavia. “Of course we can watch. But the question is: Will that do any good?”
Dorothy would not listen to any croaking. She wrote the decoy letter, and the two girls went down town and saw Mr. Somes privately. He knew both Tavia’s father and Major Dale; and when the girls from Glenwood disclosed to the postmaster just why they wished to find Tom Moran, and all about Celia, and the letter Dorothy had received from “John Smith,” he agreed to help them.
It was arranged, however, that the letter should not be put in the mail until the following morning, so that the girls might fully arrange the “watch-and-watch” on the general delivery letter window.
Their boy friends fell into the scheme with alacrity. Dorothy and Tavia did not explain entirely their interest in Tom Moran, nor why there was such a hue and cry after that red-haired young man; but——
“It doesn’t matter,” said one of the lads, cheerfully. “If Dot says she wants to find the chap—and this fellow who wrote the bum letter—we’ll do just what she says. Dot’s all right, you know, fellows!”
But that very morning there came word over the telephone to Abe Perriton’s house that started the excitement in a new quarter. A man named Polk, who ran a sawmill on Upper Creek, asked Mr. Perriton to hire several men in Dalton if he could, as he had work that must be rushed and he needed an extra force of hands.
“And I haven’t been able to hire a soul up here, except Tom Moran, who came along last night. And I’m afraid he won’t stay. He’ll not promise to.”