"I think so. We can go from Scranton to Carbondale, and Honesdale, and so on through Lackawaxen and Port Jervis. By taking that route we can stop on the way and still reach Middletown inside of two weeks."

"Well, I shouldn't like to miss a letter from Miss Bartlett, if it was sent."

"You can leave directions to forward it if it comes after we are gone.

The post-office authorities will willingly send the letter wherever you direct."

"Perhaps she has already written."

"If you think so, why don't you call at the post-office and find out?"

"I will--as soon as we have had something to eat and drink."

They pa.s.sed over to the Commercial Hotel, and after brushing up, entered the dining-room. Here a late dinner was served for them, and it is needless to say that both did full justice to all that was set before them.

After they had finished Andy went off to hunt up an empty store, and Matt, after securing directions, walked off to the post-office.

To his delight, there was a letter for him, and addressed in Ida Bartlett's hand. As it was the first letter he had received since being on the road, the reader can understand his curiosity to master its contents. Standing back in an out-of-the-way spot of the corridor, he split open the envelope with his penknife, and was soon reading that which had been written.

The letter surprised him not a little. After acknowledging the receipt of the money order and congratulating him upon his evident success, Ida Bartlett wrote as follows:

"And now, Matt, I am going to tell you something that I think will interest you even more than it does me. It is about Mr. Fenton and the mining shares which he once sold your father. Last week Mr.

Gaston, the bookkeeper, had a quarrel with Mr. Fenton, and was discharged. Before he left, however, he and Mr. Fenton had some high words, which I, being in the next office, could not help hearing.

"During this quarrel something was said about the shares sold to William Lincoln, and Mr. Gaston said that if the papers in connection with the shares which your father had bought could be recovered, he would expose Mr. Fenton. I could not understand the whole drift of the matter, but Mr. Fenton seemed to be glad that your father was missing--he said he was most likely dead--and that the papers had disappeared with him.

"Do you know anything of the papers? Mr. Gaston has gone to Boston, but I could write to him if you think that Mr. Fenton is a swindler and that you can get back any money which he may have defrauded your father out of. I myself am going to leave Mr.

Fenton's employ on the first of next month, having secured a better place with another firm of brokers. Let me hear from you again as soon as possible. I hope if he has any money belonging to your father you can get it."

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

THE RIVAL AUCTIONEERS.

It may well be imagined that Matt read Ida Bartlett's letter with great interest. The young auctioneer had never received a communication as surprising as was this one.

He went over every word carefully several times, then placed the letter in his pocket, and started off to find Andy.

Half an hour later he came across his partner on the main street. Andy had just rented a store, one of two vacant ones which were side by side, and was now on his way to drive the wagon around and unload the stock.

"Well, did you get a letter, Matt?"

"I did."

"Good enough. Any special news?"

"Yes, indeed. Just read that."

And the young auctioneer pa.s.sed the communication over for his partner's perusal.

Andy read the letter as carefully as had Matt. He emitted a long, low whistle.

"What do you think of it?"

"I hardly know what to think, Matt. Do you know anything about this mining share business?"

"I know that Randolph Fenton sold my father some shares, that is all.

I never saw the certificates, if that is what they are called."

"Did you ever see the papers in connection with the shares?"

"No."

"Then they must have been in your father's possession when he disappeared."

"I don't know about that. Mother might have had them when father was first sent to the asylum for treatment. Although I remember hearing her once say that since father's mind had become affected he would not trust any one with his affairs, but kept all his money and papers hidden away."

"It's too bad you haven't the papers."

"That's so. If I had them I would hunt up Mr. Gaston, and get him to expose Randolph Fenton."

"It might pay you to do that anyway."

"I don't know. If there was any likelihood of this being the case, I think Miss Bartlett would have written to that effect."

"What do you intend to do?"

"I am going to write to her again, telling her just how matters stand with me, and ask her if she thinks it will do any good for me to come on. If she thinks it will, I'll try to manage it some way to take a run to New York."

"You can do that whenever you wish, Matt. I will take care of things the same as you did when I was gone."

On the way to the stable where the wagon and Billy were located they talked the matter over at a greater length. Andy took a warm personal interest in the matter, and did not hesitate to say so.

"If this Fenton swindled your father, I trust you are able to prove it and get your money back," he said. "I don't know of any one that deserves money more than you do."

The wagon was soon driven around to the store, and the goods unloaded.

Then the show-window and the shelves were arranged to attract the eye, after which Andy hung out the red flag, which now began to look to the young auctioneers like an old friend.

As soon as everything was in shape for business Matt brought out paper, pen and ink, and set to work upon the letter to Ida Bartlett.

At first he hardly knew how to express himself, but before he had finished he had filled eight pages, and told the young lady exactly how matters stood. He begged for her further a.s.sistance, and a.s.sured her that she should not lose through her kindness to him.

The letter finished, Matt did not place it in a letter-box, but marched with it to the post-office, that it might be included with the first out-going New York mail.

"If I only could find father," he sighed to himself as he turned back to the store. "Something in my heart tells me that he is not dead, and yet, if this is so, where can he be?"

On arriving at the store he found Andy already busy with a crowd which had begun to collect the moment that the red flag was hung out. Matt had to begin work at once, and this was a good thing for the boy, for it kept him from brooding over his parent's possible fate and thus growing melancholy.