"I was wondering whether you could be coaxed to come around to-night, and meet the rest of the boys," the boy told him. "We expect to have a dozen present, and when Mr. Witherspoon is explaining what a scout must subscribe to in joining a troop, it might influence some of the fellows if you would tell them a few things like those you were just describing to us."

The old naturalist looked at the eager faces of the five lads, and a smile came over his own countenance. Undoubtedly he was a lover of and believer in boys, no matter whether he had ever had any of his own or not.

"I shall be only too pleased to come around, Tom; if Judge Stone can run his car by moonlight. Tell me where the meeting is to take place."

"The deacons of the church have promised to let us have a room in the bas.e.m.e.nt, which has a stove in it. The meeting will be at eight o'clock, sir," Tom informed him.

"I hope to be there and listen to what goes on," said the hermit. "And after all I'm not sorry those vicious boys thought to bombard me the way they did, since it has given me the opportunity to get acquainted with such a fine lot of lads. But I see my friend, the Judge, coming with his car, and I'll say good-bye to you all for the present."

He waved his hand to them as he rode away beside the white-bearded judge, who was one of the most highly respected citizens of Lenox.

"Well, he's a mighty fine sort of an old party, for a fact!" declared George, as they looked after the receding car; nor did he mean the slightest disrespect in speaking in this fashion of the interesting old man they had met in such a strange way.

"I'd give something if only I could visit Mr. Henderson at his cabin,"

remarked Felix; "I reckon he must have a heap of things worth seeing in his collection."

"Who knows," said Tom, cheerily, "but what some good luck might take us up that way one of these fine days."

"Let's hope so," added Josh, as they once more started toward home.

CHAPTER III

A CLOUD OVER THE OSKAMP HOME

Tom and Carl walked along together after the other three boys had dropped off at various stages, taking short-cuts for their homes, as supper-time was approaching.

"What's gone wrong, Carl?" asked Tom, as he flung an arm across the shoulders of his closest chum.

"I was meaning to tell you about it, Tom," explained the other, quickly; "but somehow I kept holding back. It seemed as if I ought to find a way of solving that queer mystery myself. But only this morning I decided to ask you to help me."

His words aroused the curiosity of the other boy more than ever.

"What's this you're talking about?" he exclaimed. "A mystery is there now, Carl? Why, I thought it might all be about that coming around so often of Mr. Amasa Culpepper, who not only keeps the grocery store but is a sort of shyster lawyer, and a money lender as well. Everybody says he's smitten with your mother, and wants to be a second father to you and your sisters and brothers."

"Well that used to worry me a whole lot," admitted Carl, frankly, "until I asked my mother if she cared any for Amasa. She laughed at me, and said that if he was the last man on earth she would never dream of marrying him. In fact, she never expected to stop being John Oskamp's widow. So since then I only laugh when I see old Amasa coming around and fetching big bouquets of flowers from his garden, which he must hate to pull, he's so miserly."

"Then what else has cropped up to bother you, Carl?" asked Tom.

The other heaved a long-drawn sigh.

"My mother is worried half sick over it!" he explained; "she's hunted every bit of the house over several times; and I've scoured the garden again and again, but we don't seem to be able to locate it at all. It's the queerest thing where it could have disappeared to so suddenly."

"Yes, but you haven't told me what it is?" remarked Tom.

"A paper, Tom, a most valuable paper that my mother carelessly left on the table in the sitting room day before yesterday."

"What kind of a paper was it?" asked Tom, who always liked to get at the gist of things in the start.

"Why, it was a paper that meant considerable to my mother," explained Carl. "My father once invested in some shares of oil stock. The certificate of stock was in the safe keeping of Amasa Culpepper, who had given a receipt for the same, and a promise to hand over the original certificate when this paper was produced."

"And you say the receipt disappeared from the table in your sitting room, without anybody knowing what became of it?" asked Tom.

"Yes," replied Carl. "This is how it came about. Lately we received word that the company had struck some gushers in the way of wells, and that the stock my father had bought for a few cents a share is worth a mint of money now. It was through Amasa Culpepper my mother first learned about this, and she wrote to the company to find out."

"Oh! I see," chuckled Tom, "and when Mr. Culpepper learned that there was a chance of your mother becoming rich, his unwelcome attentions became more p.r.o.nounced than ever; isn't that so, Carl?"

"I think you're right, Tom," said the other boy, but without smiling, for he carried too heavy a load on his mind to feel merry. "You see my mother had hunted up this precious receipt, and had it handy, meaning to go over to Mr. Culpepper's office in the forenoon and ask for the certificate of stock he has in his safe."

"So she laid it on the table, did she?" pursued Tom, shaking his head.

"Don't you think that it was a little careless, Carl, in your mother, to do that?"

"She can't forgive herself for doing it," replied his chum, sadly. "She says that it just shows how few women have any business qualities about them, and that she misses my father more and more every day that she lives. But none of the other children touched the paper. Angus, Elsie and Dot have told her so straight; and it's a puzzle to know what did become of it."

"You spoke of hunting in the garden and around the outside of the house; why should you do that?"

"It happened that one of the sitting room windows was open half a foot that day. The weather had grown mild you remember," explained the other.

"And you kind of had an idea the paper might have blown out through that open window, was that it?"

"It looked like it to me," answered the widow's son, frowning; "but if that was what happened the wind carried it over the fence and far away, because I've not been able to find anything of it."

"How long was it between the time your mother laid the paper on the table and the moment she missed it?" continued Tom Chesney.

"Just one full hour. She went from the breakfast table and got the paper out of her trunk. Then when she had seen the children off to school, and dressed to go out it was gone. She said that was just a quarter to ten."

"She's sure of that, is she?" demanded Tom.

"Yes," replied Carl, "because the grocer's boy always comes along at just a quarter after nine for his orders, and he had been gone more than twenty minutes."

At that the other boy stopped still and looked fixedly at Carl.

"That grocer's boy is a fellow by the name of Dock Phillips, isn't he?"

was what Tom asked, as though with a purpose.

"Yes," Carl replied.

"And he works for Mr. Amasa Culpepper, too!" continued Tom, placing such a decided emphasis on these words that his companion started and stared in his face.

"That's all true enough, Tom, but tell me what you mean by saying that in the way you did? What could Mr. Culpepper have to do with the vanishing of that paper?"

"Oh! perhaps nothing at all," pursued the other, "but all the same he has more interest in its disappearance than any other person I can think of just now."

"Because his name was signed at the bottom, you mean, Tom?" cried the startled Carl.