“Oh, I thought I might want to stop over and see the old man—just to see if there’s anything new in the case.”
“Sure, we can do that,” agreed Ned.
“How you coming on with the case?” Harry wanted to know.
“I’m not coming on at all, fellows. It’s at a dead standstill, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Oh, well, you’ll pop off with something unexpectedly, like you did when you discovered the wireless station that was putting out the lighthouse beacon,” said Harry.
“Maybe—I hope so,” sighed Bob.
His chums called for him next morning before he had finished his breakfast. But Bob hurried through the meal, found an old sack to hold the chestnuts he hoped to gather, and soon the three chums were chugging in the flivver up the trail of Storm Mountain.
The day was pleasant, with just the tang of winter in the air, for Ned’s prediction of a heavy frost had been borne out and there was every prospect of a good fall of the sweet, brown nuts.
“If the squirrels and chipmunks haven’t been there ahead of us,” remarked Harry as they talked over the possibilities.
“Or that dago’s monkey!” added Ned. “Say, what do you know about that fellow, anyhow? He’s still hanging around town. Lives at the Railroad House and goes out with his organ every night. Charlie McGill was telling me he takes in a lot of nickels, too, playing down around the post office. His monkey does a lot of tricks.”