oole."

The communication from the money-lender's son was a long one, containing
much news which it will be unnecessary to give here. There was, however,
one paragraph in the letter which Dave read with great interest.

"I am sorry if you put yourselves out trying to catch that
wild man thinking he was my Uncle Wilbur. As I told you, my
uncle got away from the sanitarium and they had quite a job
to locate him. They found him up in the vicinity of Oak
Hall, at one of the houses where he had once stayed. They
got him to return to the sanitarium without any trouble, and
the doctors think that he is now doing finely."

"Hello, Dave! what are you reading?" remarked Roger, coming up.

"Here's a letter from Nat Poole," and our hero told how he had received
it. "You can read it for yourself. They have found Wilbur Poole, and
have put him back in the sanitarium."

"Is that so? Well, I am glad they caught him." And then Roger read the
letter, and went off to spread the news among the other boys.

The next day was a long one for Dave. While Ben and Luke went to Carpen
Falls with a letter directed to Phil's father, he spent part of the time
dressing the two deer. But his heart was not in the work, and his
friends noted his absent-mindedness. Several times he looked down in the
direction of the trail leading to Carpen Falls, and they knew he was
hoping for some messenger to appear, summoning him to come to Crumville.

"It makes me sick to see Dave so downcast," whispered Ben to Roger, that
evening. "I wish we could cheer him up."

"I don't see how we are going to do it. We can't lift that burden from
his mind. We have simply got to wait until some word comes from the
Porters at Crumville. I don't believe they'll keep Dave waiting any
longer than necessary."

"But think of the terrible suspense!"

"I know it. It's too bad!"

The afternoon had been cloudy, and late in the evening it began to rain.
Then the wind came up, moaning through the forest in melancholy fashion
and sending thousands of whitecaps across the surface of the lake.

"It isn't Mirror Lake to-night," said Belle, with a little shiver. "It's
more like Foamy Lake."

"I don't think I'd want to go out in a canoe to-night," returned Phil,
who was beside her.

"I think we are going to have quite a storm," said Laura. "Just listen
to that wind!"

With fitful gusts tearing around the bungalows, no one felt much like