"All right. We'll hunt him up. I warn you, though, that he will josh us most unmercifully. He'll pitch into me, too, and ask me why I haven't learned my Morse International before this. See if he doesn't."
"It is one thing to learn the code out of a book and quite another to be smart enough to read it or take it down," Walter maintained stoutly. "Nobody ought to expect you to be able to get a message the way Bob does. Why, he has been at the job years!"
"I know he has," Dick responded, slightly comforted. "Still, Dad will rag me, just the same. See if he doesn't!"
Locking the door and pausing to gain courage they set out over the lawn. Then suddenly, midway across the grass, His Highness came to a stop.
"Mr. Burns!" he cried, wheeling round. "Why didn't I think of him before?"
"What on earth are you talking about?" asked Dick, astounded by his companion's strange conduct.
"Mr. Burns!" repeated Walter. "Come along. Can't one of the chauffeurs take us down there?"
"For mercy's sake who is Mr. Burns, and why do you want to go and see him hot off the bat?"
"Mr. Burns, the telegraph operator," Walter contrived to stammer. "He must know Morse International. He has to know both the Morse American which telegraph operators use on land, and the other code, I'm pretty sure."
"But maybe what we've got down doesn't make sense," objected Dick. "You've a husky nerve to go toting that scrawl of ours to a professional."