"Hello! here's a mystery all right," said Bluff, scrambling to his feet and hurrying over to the other; in which action he was immediately imitated by the other two.
"Well, I declare that's queer!" burst out Jerry; "a lot of golf balls, a white sweater, and a pair of rubber-soled shoes! Why, Will, what has happened?"
"I'm sure I don't know," said the bewildered one, shaking his head sadly. "Here I pack my films and a few other little things in this new bag, and start out. Then when I open it, see what I get! Who's been playing a trick on me, I'd like to know?"
"Wait a minute," interrupted Frank, just when the injured one was beginning to frown and look suspiciously at Bluff and Jerry; "nobody here has had a hand in the thing, Will; but I think I know what happened."
"Then for goodness' sake, Frank, hurry up and tell us!" cried Bluff; "for Will here is beginning to have awful thoughts, and looks at me as if he could eat me."
"Yes, please explain the mystery, Frank, if you can," pleaded Will.
"To my mind it's as simple as anything could well be," began the other, soberly.
"You remember our meeting on the road with the young chap calling himself Gilbert something or other? Well, I happened to notice that the bag he carried was as near like your new one as two peas could be. When he hurried away to catch his train in his excitement he must have unconsciously picked up the wrong bag!"
"Then this one belongs to him, does it?" asked Jerry.
"Don't you remember," remarked Frank, "his saying something about his being runner-up in the amateur class of golfers, and that he was going to a tournament right then, which accounted for his haste?"