"Maybe it's a joke," ventured Donald.
"It would be a stupid sort of joke to get me from Boston to Idaho on a wild-goose chase. No, there is no joke about this," went on Mr. Clark, rising and pacing the floor. "Sandy McCulloch is real, and he has some real reason for wanting me to go to Crescent Ranch. I think I shall take his advice and go."
Donald was astounded. His father never left home.
"Uncle Harold will have to do double duty while I am gone."
"And—and—I?" inquired the boy hesitatingly.
Idaho seemed very far away—quite at the other end of the world.
"You? Oh, you'll have to go along too! I shall need you."
Donald drew a long breath.
"Let me see," continued his father, "this is the end of March, isn't it? Your spring term is about over. I happen to know you are well up in your work, for I met Mr. Hurlbert, the high school principal, only yesterday. I am sure that if you fall behind by going on this trip you will study all the harder to make up the work when you get back, won't you?"