But Mr. Somers, at this time, requested a delay. "You have all summer before you," he said, smilingly; "and there is a little matter which I think should be arranged before Bob leaves."
The gentleman vouchsafed no information, and the boys were obliged to submit with the best grace possible. But they chafed under the restraint.
"Such magnificent weather, too," grumbled Dave. "Just think of the woods, and the birds flitting from branch to branch, while we are still cooped up in town."
The speaker, accompanied by Sam Randall, was on his way to the post-office to get the morning mail.
"There's Bob Somers now," exclaimed the latter; "perhaps by this time he knows when we can start."
But Bob could give his fellow member no information, Mr. Somers having scarcely referred to the matter since.
At this, the two boys looked very disconsolate indeed.
"Well, I suppose it can't be helped," sighed Sam, as he led the way into the post-office, a frame building situated at the junction of two roads.
As was usually the case at mail time, the three boys found the small interior crowded, and it was some time before they were able to reach the delivery window.
Several letters were handed to Bob Somers. He was about to mechanically put them in his pocket when the inscription on one attracted his attention. "Hello, what's this?" he said, aloud.