“But everything seems to be coming out right,” said Cora, with a rather wintry smile. All the girls were pale, and a trifle weak. The boys, too, were tired.
“And what are those papers?” asked Jack, taking them from Cora.
“Those prove Mrs. Lewis’s title to the land the plotters tried to get,” she said. “Oh, I’m so glad we found them.”
“Who found them?” asked Walter, giving Cora’s hand a surreptitious squeeze.
“They were in the red oar,” said Denny. “And to think I never knew it! They were there all these years, and all of us worrying about them and wondering where they were. But I understand now. Grandfather Lewis must have hollowed out a hole in the handle, hid the papers in it, and then plugged it up. Then he gave the oar to me to keep. I remember well at the time he said it would prove valuable some day. I often wondered what made the oar lighter than it had been. It was because it was hollowed out.
“I asked him what he meant by sayin’ the oar was valuable, but he kept puttin’ me off. He said he’d tell me some time, but he never did. Then the day he died he sent for me, and was trying to tell me, I guess, but he couldn’t. I remember I wondered what was on his mind, but he was too weak to explain. So he died with his secret, and the red oar had it and kept it all these years.
“But the oar broke, or those men and myself broke it between us, and the papers fell out. Now the widder will get her rights.”
And the Widow Lewis did. Leaving the valuable documents with Denny, the motor girls and the boys went back to their stopping places—the girls to the bungalow, the boys to the tent.
And such a time as Cora and her chums had in telling the good news to Mrs. Lewis and Freda! The latter could hardly believe it at first.
“Oh, how can we ever thank you!” cried Freda, as, with tears in her eyes, she embraced Cora.