"Now, will you be good?" observed Bluff, glad of a chance to return the favor.
"That's all right. Possibly Violet wants to make some inquiries concerning her twin brother, how he behaves, and if he has developed any rash spirit calculated to get him into trouble. I remember telling her that if she felt anxious just to drop me a line, and I'd answer."
Frank unblushingly took the envelope from the extended fingers of Will.
"Open it!" commanded Bluff.
"You'll have to excuse me, fellows. That wouldn't be hardly fair to my correspondent, you
know. She expects me to keep her secrets." And Frank coolly sauntered off as he spoke.
Nor did he ever take them into his confidence with regard to what the contents of that scented missive might be. Even Will was not told. However, like most brothers, it can be said that he did not seem overly anxious to learn. He had, perhaps, secrets of his own.
Once again they were seated around the campfire. Supper had been, as usual, a great success, and while the older members of the party smoked, our boys amused themselves in various ways.
Will was, of course, busy with his photographic outfit. His field dark-room was a success, and he developed his films, and did all other things necessary, with little or no trouble. Indeed, he had an apparatus whereby he could carry on this operation successfully even in the daytime; but he usually worked at night, because there was nothing else going on then.
The others had fallen into a conversation connected with their home life. Reddy hovered near, listening, and Frank wondered why that wistful look had come into the eyes of the young cowboy. Possibly he had a home somewhere—perhaps memories of a mother or father had crowded into his mind while the boys were talking of the sacred ties that bound them to Centerville.