"Come on," suggested Jack to his chum, after the small chap had departed. "Let's go down by the white bridge and make some inquiries of people living in that vicinity. They may have seen a stranger hanging around, and, perhaps we can get on his trail that way."

"All right," agreed Mark, and they walked on together.

They had gone quite a distance away from the bridge, and had made several inquiries, but had met with no success, and they were about to give up and go back home.

"I know one person we haven't inquired of yet," said Mark, as they tramped along.

"Who's that?"

"Old Bas...o...b.. who lives alone in a shack on the edge of the creek. You know the old codger who traps muskrats."

"Oh, sure; but I don't believe he'd know anything. If he did, he's so cranky he wouldn't tell you."

"Maybe he would, if we gave him a little money for some smoking tobacco. It's worth trying, anyhow. Bas...o...b..goes around a great deal, and he may have met a strange man in his travels."

"Well, go ahead; we'll ask him."

The muskrat trapper did not prove to be in a very pleasant frame of mind, but, after Mark had given him a quarter, Bas...o...b..consented to answer a few questions. The boys told him about looking for a strange man, describing him as best they could, though they did not tell why they wanted to find him.

"Wa'al, now, I shouldn't be surprised but what I know the very fellow you want," said the trapper. "I met him a couple of days back, an' I think he's still hanging around. Fust I thought he was after some of my traps, but when I found he wa'ant, I didn't pay no more attention to him. He looked jest like you say."

"Where was he?" asked Jack eagerly.

"Walkin' along the creek, sort of absent-minded like."

"You don't know where he lives, or whether he is staying in this vicinity, do you?" inquired Mark.

"Ya'as, I think I do," replied the trapper.

"Where?" cried Jack eagerly.

"Wa'al, you know the old Preakness homestead, down by the bend of the creek, about four mile below here?"

"Sure we know it," answered Mark. "We used to go in swimming not far from there."

"Wa'al, the old house has been deserted now for quite a spell," went on the trapper, "and there ain't n.o.body lived in it but tramps. But the other night, when I was comin' past, with a lot of rats I'd jest taken out of my traps, I see a light in the old house. Thinks I, to myself, that there's more tramps snoozin' in there, and I didn't reckon it was none of my business, so I kept on. But jest as I was walking past the main gate, some one come out of the house and hurried away. I had a good look at him, an'----"

"Who was it?" asked Mark impatiently, for the old trapper was a slow talker.

"It was the same man you're lookin' for," declared Bas...o...b.. "I'm sure of it, an' he's hangin' out in the old Preakness house. If you want t'

see him, why don't you go there?"

"We will!" cried Jack. "Come on, Mark. I think we're on the trail at last."

CHAPTER VII

MARK IS CAPTURED

Eagerly the boys hurried forward, intent on making the best time possible to the old Preakness homestead, which was a landmark for miles around, and which, in its day, had been a handsome house and estate.

Now it was fallen into ruins, for there was a dispute among the heirs, and the property was in the Chancery Court.

"Do you think we'll find him there?" asked Mark, as they made their way along the dusty highway. "Hard to tell. Yet, if he's hanging out in this neighborhood, that would be as good a place as any, for him to hide in."

"I wonder who he can be, anyhow? And how he knows me?"

"Give it up. Evidently he isn't a tramp, though he stays in a place where there are plenty of the Knights of the Road."

The boys increased their pace, and were soon on the main road leading to the Preakness house, and about a mile away from it. "We'll soon be there now," remarked Jack. "Then we'll see if we can find that man."

As he spoke, the lad put his hand in his pocket, and, a moment later, he uttered a startled cry.

"What's the matter?" asked Mark, in some alarm.

"Matter? Why, gee whiz! If I haven't forgotten to send that telegram Professor Henderson gave me! It's to order some special tools to take along on our trip to the moon. They didn't come, and the professor wrote out a message urging the factory to hurry the shipment. He gave it to me to send, just before the accident to the motor, but when that happened it knocked it out of my mind, I guess. I stuck the telegram in my pocket, and here it is yet," and Jack drew forth a crumpled paper.

"Wouldn't that make you tired?" he asked. "It's important, and ought to go at once. The professor won't like it."

"I'll tell you what to do," suggested Mark, after a moment's thought.

"The telegraph office isn't so far away from here. You can cut across lots, and be there in fifteen or twenty minutes. Tell 'em to rush the message, and it may be in time yet. Anyhow, we're going to be delayed because of the accident to the motor, so it won't make so much difference. But come on, let's start, and we can hurry back."

"I guess that's the best plan," remarked Jack dubiously, for he did not fancy a half-hour's tramp across the fields and back again. Then, as he thought of something else, he called out:

"Say, Mark, there's no use of both of us going to the telegraph office.

I'll go alone, as it's my fault, and you can stay here, and watch to see if that strange man appears on the scene. I'll not be long, and you can wait for me here."

"How would it be if I went on a little nearer to the Preakness house?"

asked Mark. "I can meet you there just as well as here, and something may develop."

"Good idea! You go on, and when I come back, I'll take the road that leads through the old slate quarry, and save some time that way. I'll meet you right near the old barn that stands on the Gilbert property, just before you reach the Preakness grounds."

"All right; I'll be there, but don't run your legs off. We're out for all day, and there isn't anything that needs to be done at home, or around the projectile, so take your time."

"Oh, I'll not go to sleep," declared Jack. "I want to see if we can't solve the mystery of the man who writes such queer notes."

Jack started off across the fields at a swift pace, while Mark strolled on down the road, in the direction of the old Preakness house. He was thinking of many things, chiefly of the wonderful journey that lay before them, and he was wondering what the moon would look like when they got to it.

That it would be a wild, desolate place, he had no doubt, for the evidences of the telescopes of astronomers pointed that way, and, as is well known, the most powerful instruments can now bring the moon to within an apparent distance of one hundred miles of the earth. This is true of the Lick telescope, which has a magnifying power of 2,500 and an object lens a yard across.

But, with this powerful telescope, it has been impossible to distinguish any such objects as forests, cities, or any evidences of life on the moon--that is, on the side that has always been turned toward us.

Almost unconsciously, Mark went on faster than he intended, and, before he knew it, he had arrived at the barn where he had promised to wait for his chum. Mark looked at his watch, and found that he would still have some time to linger before he could expect Jack to return. He sat down on a stone beside the fence, and looked about him. The day was warm for fall, and the last of the crickets were chirping away, while, in distant fields, men could be seen husking corn, or drawing in loads of yellow pumpkins.

"I wonder if we'll have pumpkin pie on the moon," thought Mark.

"Though, of course, we won't. I guess all we'll have to eat will be what Washington takes along in the projectile--that is, unless we find people on the other side of the place."