While they were discussing what had better be done, Mowry unexpectedly entered the house. He looked thoroughly fatigued and worn out. In a few words he told his story of failure. They had found the cabin deserted. The rest of the party were scouring the neighborhood. Then the trapper had started back at once.
“Somethin’ hes scairt the rascals,” he declared, “an’ so they pulled out fur a safer hidin’-place. But I reckon the men will find ’em sooner or later. I thought I’d slip back with the news. How about the lawyer chap in New York? Did you git an answer?”
The telegram was read to him, and he scratched his head in a puzzled way.
“I don’t put no faith in these pesky things,” he said. “That there fifteen thousand dollars must be kept out of the hands of these derned rascals. I reckon thar’s time enough. It would take about a week fur the lawyer chap to make terms with Raikes, an’ get word across the ocean an’ back. I’ll bet Raikes is down thar in the city waitin’.”
“Very likely,” assented the agent. “If we had the lawyer’s right name we could soon reach him.”
“I don’t believe it,” exclaimed the trapper, in a scornful tone. “Telegraphin’ ain’t no account. Lad, you must go to New York by the fust train. I’ll foot the bills.”
“Me?” gasped Jerry. He could scarcely believe that he had heard aright.
“Sartin,” resumed Mowry. “You’re a bright lad, an’ I reckon you’ll know what to do. Go to this man Larkin’s house, or to his place of business. Some one will tell you where to find the lawyer.”
“Or you might get a city directory,” suggested the agent, who evidently favored the plan, “and look over the names that are like Glenwood.”
“Yes; and one of those is a good plan,” replied Jerry. “I’m willing to go, and I think I will succeed.”