“I don’t believe so,” stated Bob. “Hiram hasn’t any monkey. They have been digging worms,” he explained.
“Worms—what for worms?” asked the Italian with a vacant look.
“For fishing. That’s where they are, you know—after fish.”
“Oh, sure—feesh. Well, mebby so I leave these nuts for Senor Beegle—he plant them and try them—you t’ink?” He held the odd things out to Bob.
“You better come back and explain about them yourself,” said Bob. “I’m going after them now. Come back to-morrow.”
“Aw-right. I come back!”
The Italian did not seem disappointed. With a patience characteristic of his kind, he smiled and turned away. Bob watched until he saw the organ grinder tramping down the Storm Mountain trail.
Then Bob locked up the log cabin, hid the key where he had found it and took another road back to Cliffside in order to pick up Hiram and Jolly Bill.
They had had good luck fishing, contrary to what Bob had expected and he brought home to his aunt some welcome specimens of the lake. Hiram was left at his cabin and Jolly Bill at the Mansion House.
“Well, I know one thing I’m going to do,” said Bob to himself that night in his room. “I’m going to give a party!”