So they busied themselves in that way. Will was developing his first roll of films in the tank, which could be used as well in daylight as at night, or in a dark-room. Jerry wandered off, with his gun over his arm, not looking for game, but with the intention of protecting himself against any possible danger. As for Jed, filled to repletion, he seemed quite a different boy from the fear-haunted chap of the previous night.
Jerry was a curious boy, always seeking to learn the why and wherefore of everything that happened. He did not believe in the ghost stories, and only wished he could run across something to prove the fact.
It was with this faint hope springing up in his heart that he sauntered out of the camp and into the great forest that stretched far away toward the lake, on the borders of which Centerville and Newtonport lay.
Looking back of him, he could see the Sunset Mountains very near, the sides covered with the same dense forest growth.
"Let's see, what have I got to look out for?" he was saying to himself, as he upraised a finger with each count: "The ghost, for one; those Apaches of Pet Peters, for two; that fine, hearty old gentleman, Farmer Dobson, for three. Well, a fellow would need to have three pairs of eyes to keep watch of all those perils at once. Perhaps there is another bear near by, the mate of the one Frank and Bluff knocked over. Well, I'm willing, if she only shows up."
So he was talking to himself as he wandered on. He did not mean to go very far away from the camp, at the time he started, but somehow it was so easy to just keep walking on. The day was fine, and he felt like taking exercise.
Jerry did not forget to keep his eyes about him all the while. It would not be pleasant to have those hovering plagues, the boys from town, drop down on his head from some tree, and he did not hanker after the experience.
Somehow his thoughts ranged back to Jed. Jerry was very much interested in the fortunes of the little bound boy, and had determined that his father, as well as the lawyer parent of Bluff, should do something to relieve him from his distress.
"I wonder what there is about that little gold locket that makes old Dobson want to get it in his possession so much? It must be proof of something; and surely there must be money in it for the possessor, if one only knew how to go about it. That's what we don't know, and Dobson does. But Frank will think it out. Nothing gets past him for long, now."
Frank was far from guessing the secret, as yet, for just at that very particular minute he sat in camp looking slyly at the very locket Jerry referred to, and trying to figure out how such a thing as Jed's mother's picture could be valuable to her cousin, the old skinflint farmer.