For a few moments the three chums remained staring at each other. The news of Frank's disappearance came as a shock to Bart and Ned, just as it had to Fenn. And Fenn's last words set the others to thinking.
"What do you mean?" asked Ned.
"I mean that Frank's not himself lately," Fenn went on. "You must have noticed it as well as I."
"You're right," came from Bart. "There is something very strange about Frank, and I can't understand it. The more we talk about it the worse it seems."
"Unless—" began Fenn.
"Unless what?"
"Boys, I hate to mention it," said Fenn, with a strange air, and he looked all around as though he feared someone would hear him, "but I'm afraid Frank's mind is affected!"
"Do you mean he's crazy?" asked Bart, suddenly.
"No; not exactly that. But I think he has some secret trouble, and that he has worried over it so much he isn't quite himself. Don't you remember how interested he was in the King of Paprica," went on Fenn, referring to the incidents told of in the first volume of this series. "He thought the man was crazy, and he said he had been reading up a lot about insanity. I thought then maybe he had had some trouble in his family, and that might account for his not wanting us to seek to solve the mystery of the curious men."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Ned. "Frank crazy? Why, he's no more crazy than I am!"
"I don't say he's crazy," Fenn went on, "but you must admit it looks queer the way he's been acting lately, and think of his escape through the rear of the tent. What did he want to run away for?"
"It certainly is odd," Bart admitted, "but I don't believe Frank's mind is affected. I think he has some secret which is worrying him, and, in time, he'll tell us all about it. Until then we can only wait."
"What had we better do now?" asked Fenn.
"Do? Why, nothing," answered Bart.
"When Frank gets ready he'll come back. Until then there's nothing to do."
The three chums talked over the matter from various sides. They agreed it would be better not to say anything to their comrade when he got back, as it might embarrass him to be questioned. As the afternoon waned away Fenn prepared to get supper, cooking some of the fish Bart and Ned had caught.
"Shall we eat, or wait until Frank gets back?" asked Fenn, as he noticed it was six o'clock.
"Let's eat," suggested Ned. "He wouldn't want us to wait."
The meal was not a very pleasant one, for, in spite of the assurances of Ned and Bart, to the effect that Frank was all right, and would soon rejoin them, all three felt a vague uneasiness they could not explain.
"Maybe he has lost his way," remarked Fenn, when it began to get dusk, and there was no sign of the missing boy.
"That's so," admitted Bart, more quickly than Fenn had supposed he would. "We'll take our guns and fire a few shots to give him the right direction toward camp. Come on."
Ned and Fenn got their weapons in a hurry. To do something was much better than to sit still and wait for something to happen. They put some logs on the campfire, more for cheerfulness than because it was cool, though it was a bit chilly in the woods after dark. Then they moved off from the tent, each one in a different direction, and began firing their guns. They stood, as it were, on the three points of a triangle, so that if Frank heard the shooting and came toward either angle he would strike camp.
But after half an hour of firing, at five-minute intervals, Bart suggested they wait a bit before shooting any more. It was now quite dark.
"If he's within a mile or two he's heard the guns," Bart said, "and he can find his way here easily enough. If he was so far off he couldn't hear them, we'd better wait until he wanders nearer before we fire any more."
"Do you think he's lost in the woods?" asked Fenn.
"I don't know what to think, Stumpy," replied Bart, who seemed to have taken charge of things. "It's rather funny, I must admit."
They waited about an hour and then began firing again. Between the shots they listened for a hail, but none came.
"If he heard us he'd fire an answering shot," remarked Ned, when, for a time, they had again desisted from their signaling.
"He couldn't," Fenn answered. "He left his gun in the tent."
"That's queer," Bart spoke. "If he knew he would be away after dark I'm sure he'd have taken his gun, though there's nothing worse than skunks in these woods."
"We'll fire some more, in about an hour," said Ned. "Then, if he doesn't come, we'll have to wait until morning and make a search. It's mighty strange, that's what it is."
"Probably he'll laugh at us for being worried," suggested Bart, with an attempt at a laugh that was rather mirthless. "Maybe he's night-fishing, or something like that."
"He didn't take any tackle with him," said Fenn. "All his things are in the tent. He just slipped out without a thing with him except his pocket knife."
Bart himself had not believed the suggestion about night-fishing, but he did not know what other explanation to make of Frank's absence.
Once more, toward midnight, the boys fired other signaling shots, but without avail. Then, with hopelessness, and something very much like fear in their hearts, they went back to the tent.
"We'll go to sleep, and make a good search in the morning," said Bart. "Why this is nothing after all. We've been in worse situations than this, a good deal worse. Look at the time we were hunting for Ned."
"But I was in a big city and Frank is in the big woods," put in Ned.
"I don't know but what the woods are safer than the city," observed Fenn.
The boys did not sleep much. They tried to, but every now and then one of them would awaken and, sitting up on his cot, would listen intently. He thought he had heard someone approaching through the bushes, but each time it was a false alarm. The fire was kept going brightly, in the hope Frank might happen to see it from a distance.
Morning came at last, and, with the first pale streaks of dawn filtering through the trees, the boys were up. They made a hasty breakfast, and then, taking their guns, and putting up a light lunch, they started off to search for Frank.
"Which way had we better go?" asked Fenn. "Shall we try separate ways, or all keep together?"
"Better keep together," replied Bart. "We have a compass, and can find our way back, but if we straggle off alone some of us may get lost, and none of us knows these woods well enough to chance that."
"But which way are we to go?" asked Ned. "There's no such thing as finding Frank's trail in these woods."
"I have it!" cried Fenn.
"What do you mean?"
"The telephone line! You remember how interested Frank was in that! Well, maybe he's following it up. Let's find that and maybe we'll find Frank!"
"Go ahead! It's a good suggestion!" exclaimed Bart.
No sooner had Frank entered the tent that afternoon when Fenn started to fix his gun, than he had slipped out under the rear canvas wall. He waited a moment after emerging, brushed the dirt from his clothes, and then started off through the woods.
"I guess I can get back before they miss me," he said to himself. "I must see where that line runs. It may be nothing, but I suspect it is one of the clues I am searching for."
He went forward at a rapid pace, and, in a little while, came to where the telephone wire was strung through the woods. Then he came to a halt and considered.
"Which way had I better go?" he thought. "Let me see, if I am right in my theory this line runs to Darewell and from there—That's what I have to find out. With the Darewell end I'm not concerned at present, but I must find where the other end is. Darewell is off to the left. To the right lies the unknown. I must go to the right."
With that he set off through the woods, following the telephone line. It was hard work, for the wire led through the thickest part of the forest, as though those who had strung it wanted to discourage curiosity seekers. Now it would cross some bog or swamp, and Frank had to make a wide circuit in order to avoid getting over his knees in water. Again it would wind in and out among the trees, as if the persons who put it up wanted to confuse any one who sought to trace where the wire ended.
But Frank was determined to solve the mystery, and he kept doggedly on. Several times he slipped and fell, and once he struck a stone that inflicted quite a cut on his forehead.
"If Alice Keene was here now," he murmured as he wiped the blood off, "she would get some of the practice she is so fond of. As it is I've got to doctor myself."
He washed the cut in a stream of water, and after resting himself kept on. Farther and farther he penetrated into the woods. He had a general idea of the direction in which he was going, and knew he could easily find his way back again, as he had but to follow the wire until he got to the point where he could strike back to camp.
"Maybe, after all my work, I'll find it leads to no place but a house in the woods where some rich man has come to spend the summer," Frank thought, but, even while he said this to himself, he did not believe it. He hoped the wire would lead him to something that would help him solve the secret that was so puzzling.
On and on he kept. It began to grow dusk, as the sun sank lower behind the trees, and the forest was quite dark. He could hardly see the wire now, and he was a bit worried. If he did not come to the end of it soon it meant he would have to stay in the forest all night, as he could not possibly find his way back after dark, for the wire would be invisible. It was, therefore, with a somewhat anxious heart that Frank watched the shadows lengthening and saw the wire becoming more and more faint to his view. Then, when he was about to give up, and look for a place where he might spend the night, though he doubted if there was one in the woods, he saw, through the trees, a large building. His heart gave a great thump, for, as he went on a little further he saw that the telephone wire ran to this building almost obscured from view.
"I have found it!" Frank exclaimed, half aloud. "Now to see what it is!"
He came to the edge of a clearing in which the building stood. He was about to press on, when he caught sight of a notice painted on a board and set up just at the beginning of the grounds. It read:
CLIFFSIDE SANITARIUM. PRIVATE GROUNDS.
"Sanitarium!" exclaimed Frank, as the memory of the conversation of the two men, of which Ned had told him, came to his mind. "I wonder if this can be the place. Sanitarium! Probably a place for mildly insane persons. That would be it. It says 'private grounds' and that likely means no trespassing; but what am I to do? I've got to stay somewhere to-night, and I can't possibly get back to camp. I'll make a circuit around the place and see how it looks."
Keeping in the shadow of the woods, Frank made a wide circle around the sanitarium. Then he came to a stop, when he was near the front, for he had come to the edge of a high cliff, on which the building stood.
"That's where the name comes in," thought the boy. "It's on the cliff. Well, I think I'll ask if I can stay all night. I hope they don't take me for a lunatic, and perhaps some of the doctors or nurses can tell me what I want to know."
Frank was about to advance toward the front of the institution, up a path that led from the edge of the woods where he stood, when he saw a line of men leave the sanitarium, and start to walk around the paths about the building. At the first glance Frank knew what they were.
"They are the patients out for exercise," he decided. "I must get closer. They're coming this way. I'll hide in the woods," and, getting behind a big oak, the boy awaited the oncoming of the line of sad-faced men.
Slowly the patients filed past. They all seemed to be suffering from some ailment, mental or physical, and all had an unhealthful pallor. Walking ahead, in the rear, and on both sides, were men dressed in dark blue uniforms.
"Attendants," mused Frank, "though none of the patients look as though they were violent."
By this time the head of the line had turned and the sad little procession was moving away from Frank, as he stood behind the tree. The men in the rear were now passing close to him, and the boy, seeing that the end of the line was near, prepared to go forward when they all should have passed. As he was about to step from his place he caught sight of the face of one of the patients, and, as he did so, he uttered an involuntary cry. Before he was aware what he was doing, Frank had stepped from behind the tree.
Several of the patients saw him, and gazed curiously at the boy. One—the one at the sight of whom Frank had uttered the exclamation—did not look up. With his eyes bent on the ground he hurried on, following the man ahead of him. There was a little confusion, caused by some of the patients stopping to stare at Frank, and two attendants came up on the run. One of them saw the boy standing beside the big tree.
"Go away from here at once!" he commanded. "This is private property, and you are liable to arrest for trespassing. Don't let me catch you here again. Go, I say!"
The man's tone was so menacing, and he spoke with such authority that, for a moment, Frank was frightened. Then he began to realize that he had no right where he was.
With another glance at the patient, whose face had so startled him, Frank turned and went back into the woods. The march of the unfortunate one was resumed, and the keepers, seeing there was no further trouble, resumed their places. The one who had warned Frank remained for a few minutes, gazing at the spot in the woods where the boy had disappeared.
"Guess I can't stay there to-night," Frank murmured as he made off through the fast-darkening forest. "I wonder what I had better do?"
He paused and, through the trees caught sight of something that gave him hope. It was a big haystack in a little clearing, some distance from the sanitarium.
"There's my hotel for the night," Frank remarked, as he made his way toward it. In a little while he had burrowed down under the dried grass, and, trying to forget that he was hungry, he prepared to pass the night.
The three chums, starting on their search for Frank, soon found the telephone line.
"Now we're here, the next question is: Which way are we to go?" asked Bart. "It's all guess work."
"Not exactly," spoke Ned, and he used the same reasoning that Frank had, in deciding to follow the line as it led in the opposite direction from that of Darewell. "That's probably the way Frank would go," concluded Ned, pointing to the right, "and that's the way we want to go."
His companions agreed with him, and off they started. As they advanced they found the woods growing more dense, and, as had Frank, they had to make long circuits at times, to avoid bog-holes. They kept on for some time, but saw no signs of their chum.
"I wonder where he stayed all night?" asked Fenn.
"Trust Frank to look out for himself," remarked Bart. "He found a good warm place, I guess. But I don't see why he is staying away. If he was caught out after dark, and couldn't find his way back, he could see the trail by this time. I wonder why we don't meet him?"
"Maybe he's hurt," suggested Fenn.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Ned. "There's nothing in these woods to hurt a fly. I don't believe there's even a fox."
"I didn't mean animals," Fenn went on.
"What then?"
"Why he might have fallen, or, he might have met some bad men."
"Of course he might have taken a tumble and sprained his ankle, or something like that," Bart said. "But as for men, if there are any in these woods, which I very much doubt, what reason would they have for harming Frank?"
"It might be in connection with that mysterious secret he seems bothered about."
"Oh, you're worse than a half-dime novel," cried Ned with a laugh. "Come on, and stop that dismal croaking."
Still following the telephone line, the boys went on. Now and then they stopped to listen for any sounds which might indicate that Frank, or any other person, was coming through the woods. But the forest was silent, save for the noise made by the wind and the birds.
Meanwhile Frank had awakened after a night of fitful slumber under the hay. His first act was to go to a place where he could observe the sanitarium. There was no sign of life about it, and the boy, after watching a few minutes, began to feel faint for lack of food.
"I'd better go back to camp," he said to himself. "I need some breakfast, and a good rest. Then I can start out again. But I can't tell the boys what I have seen. It is not yet time."
Waiting awhile, to see if he could detect any movement around the institution, but finding all was silence, Frank started back toward camp, following the telephone line.
He walked on for some time, pondering over what he had seen, and vainly speculating whether or not he was on the right track.
"I believe I'm on the trail," he said. "I thought he might know me, but, of course if it's true as it says in the letters, he could not. It might not have been the right time. I must try again."
Frank's meditations were interrupted by a noise in the woods just ahead of him. It sounded like someone coming through the bushes. Then he could distinguish voices.
"I wonder if I'd better hide?" he thought.
Before he could put that plan into execution there came around a turn in the trail he had made, in following the line, three boys. The next instant, with glad cries of welcome, the three chums hurried forward to greet their companion.
"Where in the world have you been?"
"What made you give us the slip that way?"
"Tell us all about it?"
Fenn, Bart and Ned, in turn, asked those questions. Frank looked from one to the other.
"I'm sorry, boys, but I can't tell you," he said. "I wish I could, and I hope you'll not think it mean of me not to. I may be able to very soon, and clear up all this mysteriousness, that is worrying me so. Until then—"
"Until then I think you'd better have something to eat," suggested Bart, noting how pale and tired Frank looked. "We brought along something, but we didn't expect to have the fun of sharing it with you. Sit down here and fill up. Fenn made the sandwiches so I guess they ought to be good."
"Yes, and if you'll wait a minute I'll give you a hot drink," Fenn cried.
From his pocket he produced a tin flask of cold coffee. He gathered up some dried sticks, and built a little fire. Then he placed the tin flask on it, and, in a little while there was a warm beverage ready. Frank sipped it from the collapsable cup Ned carried, and, after eating some sandwiches, felt better.
"Now for camp!" cried Bart, "unless," looking at Frank, "you have some other plan."
"No, I'm anxious to get back."
"Didn't sleep very good in the haystack I guess," commented Ned.
"Haystack! How did you know?" asked Frank, in excited tones.
"One look at your clothes, with hay sticking all over them, tells me that, as a detective would say. Also, your garments are as wrinkled as though you'd been put through a wringer. Am I right?"
"Yes, it was a haystack for mine last night," Frank admitted with a smile. "It was fairly comfortable, though it tickled my ears a bit."
The boys started back for camp. Though the three were, naturally enough, very curious as to where Frank had been, and his object in slipping away, they did not question him. On his part Frank did not again refer to his night's absence, but, when he reached the tent, he crawled into his bed and stayed there until late in the afternoon, for he was very tired.
"I wish we had our boat here," remarked Ned, as later on the four chums strolled off in the direction of the little stream.
"It would be too big for this creek," observed Ned. "If we had a smaller boat, or a canoe, it would do very well."
"Let's make one," suggested Fenn. "There's lots of birch bark here and we can do it in a few days."
"All right," agreed Bart. "We'll start it in the morning. I never made a canoe, but we can't do any worse than try, at any rate."
The boys found it harder work than they had expected, but they had plenty of time and knew something of boat building, for they had constructed several small craft.
They had their knives, and two small hatchets. They used young saplings for keel and the ribs, and, with patience, they managed to strip off enough of the birch bark to cover the canoe.
It took them two days to get all the materials together and then, when the canoe was roughly shaped, they had to spend much more time on it, rendering it water-proof by smearing the seams with pitch and gum which exuded from several trees near at hand. They had used withes of willow to bind the boat together, and, though it was a very crude looking affair, the boys thought it would serve for what they wanted.
They chopped out some rough paddles, and on the fifth day the boat was ready to try. They put it into the water in the evening, and, to their delight, it floated on an even keel, and would hold two of them at a time.
"We'll take turns making a trip to-morrow," said Bart. "It doesn't leak hardly any. It wouldn't take a prize, and it's not much on looks, but it's something to have made a canoe off in the midst of the woods, and with scarcely any tools."
His chums agreed with him, and that night they went to bed thinking of the fun they would have the next day.
Ned was the first to awake. He got up, in accordance with the rule that the earliest riser must build the fire. He looked over toward the cots where his companions slept. As he did so he gave a start.
"Frank is gone!" he called, and Bart and Fenn awakened.
When the completed canoe had been set into the water that evening, a daring plan had entered Frank's mind. On his visit to the sanitarium he had noticed that, at the foot of the cliff, there flowed a stream of water. He thought it might be the same one that ran past the camp, and he determined to learn if this was so.
"If it is, I can make the trip much more quickly than I did before," he said to himself. "I'll try it when the others are asleep."
Frank noted that the boat floated well on the water. It was light, and with one passenger could easily be propelled, so as to make swift time.
"I'll have the current with me going," the boy thought, as he noted that the stream ran in a general direction toward the sanitarium. "I'll have to paddle back against it. Of course maybe this is not the same creek or river that flows past the cliff, and there may be falls or rapids in it that I can't take the boat through. But it will do no harm to try."
He was all impatience for his companions to go to bed. Fortunately for him they were tired out with the day's labor on the canoe. They prepared an early supper, and, after talking a while around the campfire, discussing what they would do, now that they had a boat, the boys went to their cots.
Frank's bed was nearest the back wall of the tent, and he was glad of this, as it would make his exit easier. He thought his chums would never go to sleep, but at length their heavy and regular breathing told him they were slumbering.
Cautiously he gathered his clothes in a bundle and shoved them out under the tent. He had, unknown to his companions, made up a package of food, as he did not want to get caught again with nothing to eat. Making no noise, he crawled under the tent, as he had done before. He looked at his watch. It was a little after ten o'clock. He hurriedly dressed outside the tent, and then, securing the paddle, he made his way to where the canoe floated in the creek.
It was a bright moonlight night, warm, calm and still. Frank felt just a little uneasiness as he stepped into the boat and shoved off. It was rather a queer thing to do, he thought, and he wondered what his chums would say if they saw him. But, he reflected, it was important to him to solve the secret which bothered him so greatly.
Paddling cautiously, Frank sent the frail craft out into the middle of the stream. There was not much current, but what there was helped him along. He urged the boat forward more rapidly as he left the camp behind, and soon he was half a mile on his strange night journey.
Only for the light draught of the boat Frank would never have been able to get along. Even drawing but a few inches, the canoe several times touched sand bars over which it glided. Frank did not know the channel, and he had to trust to luck. But, as he went on he noticed that the stream was becoming wider and deeper, and he had no fear but that he might continue on for many miles.
"If only it goes in the right direction," he murmured. "It may be an altogether different creek than this which flows past the cliff. If it is I've had all my trouble for nothing. I want to get back before the boys wake up, if I can."
On and on he went. The moon threw fantastic shadows through the trees to the surface of the stream. Now the boat would glide along in the darkness, caused by the overhanging branches, and again it would forge ahead into a bright patch of silvery light.
"I wonder if the telephone line is anywhere in this locality," Frank mused, after he had paddled for an hour or more. "If I could get a glimpse of that I would be reasonably certain I was going in the right direction."
He glanced overhead several times, but could catch no sight of the wire. Now the boat was going at a more rapid rate as the current was swifter. The stream twisted and turned, until Frank did not know in which direction he was going.
Suddenly, as he was paddling, he heard a sound that made him draw the blade from the water, and listen intently. It was the noise made by water dashing on rocks, and it seemed but a short distance ahead.
"Falls!" exclaimed the boy. "I've got to get out and carry the boat."
He kept on until, in the moonlight, he could see where there came a break in the stream as it tumbled over a little cliff. Swinging the nose of the canoe ashore, Frank grounded the craft and got out. He walked to the edge of the falls and looked at them. They made a beautiful picture in the moonlight, but it was a scene the boy found little pleasure in gazing at. It meant that he would have to carry the boat around them.
"Well, there's no help for it," he said, with a sigh. "Luckily the canoe is light."
Frank picked it up, and put it over his head and shoulders, as the Maine guides carry their frail craft. The way was rough, and before he was half way past the falls, Frank began to fear he could not make it. But he kept on, and half an hour later he floated the canoe into the quiet waters at the foot of the waterfall. Then he began paddling again.
It was past midnight when the stream, which had now become a little river, took a sudden turn. As he rounded it Frank uttered a half-suppressed exclamation. There ahead of him, perched on the cliff, at the foot of which the river flowed, was the sanitarium.
"That's what I wanted to know," he said, as he steered the canoe over toward the cliff. "I can't do anything to-night, but I might as well go up and take a look around. It may come in useful later."
Frank tied the boat in a sheltered spot at the foot of the cliff. Then he began to look for a path to ascend. Luckily the moon shone brightly on the face of the rocky incline, and Frank observed a path that seemed to afford a way up. Cautiously he began ascending. Up and up he went, until he stood on the top. Before him was a fence, with high iron pickets, put there evidently for the double purpose of keeping certain persons out, and certain other persons from falling over the cliff.
"Too risky to scale that," Frank mused, as he noted the sharp-pointed palings. "I'll walk along it a bit."
He started to make a circuit, going along the edge of the cliff, for he thought there might be a gateway in the fence. As he was moving cautiously along, looking for an opening, he was startled by a sudden challenge:
"Who are you, and what do you want?"
Frank glanced up, to see a man looking at him. The fellow was attired in the uniform of an attendant at the sanitarium.
"What do you want?" the man repeated sharply.
Several plans flashed through Frank's mind. Should he make inquiries of the attendant concerning that which he so desired to know? He half resolved to, and then he realized that the man was but a keeper, and, probably, could not enlighten him.
"I'm looking for a friend," Frank said.
"No one allowed around here," the man went on. "This is private property. Be off, now, before I set the dogs on you."
Frank knew he could gain nothing by staying. He had found out what he wanted to know, namely, that the stream near the camp ran to the sanitarium. He turned quickly, and made his way to where he had ascended the cliff. The man was watching him, but, when he saw the boy disappear he was, apparently, satisfied, and went on walking around his post on the grounds of the institution.
Frank reached the canoe, shoved off, and began rapidly paddling back. With long strokes he sent the frail craft against the current, and, in about an hour he came to the falls. He carried the craft around them, and then set out on the last stage of his journey back to where his chums still slumbered.
Ned's cry of alarm, which had aroused Bart and Fenn, brought his two companions out of their beds with a rush. They looked over at the cot in which Frank slept, and saw that it was empty.
"Frank's gone," Ned repeated.
"What makes you think so?" asked Bart.
For answer Ned pointed to the empty bed, and to the stool, on which Frank usually placed his clothes. The garments were missing.
"Maybe he got up early for a walk," suggested Fenn.
"Sure; that's it," chimed in Bart, glad to have an excuse for explaining Frank's seeming disappearance.
"He's not in the habit of doing that," Ned remarked. "He's usually the last one up. I'm going to dress and take a look outside."
Ned lost little time in putting on his clothes. The other boys followed his example, and soon the three were outside the tent, standing in the bright morning sunshine.
"I wonder how our canoe stood the soaking it got last night?" observed Fenn, "Let's go to the creek and take a look. Frank may be back by then."
They went to the shore of the stream, where they had left their boat, but, to their great astonishment, it was gone.
"Worse and more of it!" exclaimed Ned. "I guess Frank has gone off in the boat."
"No guessing about it," replied Bart.
"Why not?"
In answer Bart pointed down the stream. There, paddling along, was Frank in the canoe. He waved his hands to his chums and they shouted a greeting to him.
"There I told you he'd just gone out to get up an appetite for breakfast," declared Fenn, as the canoe drew nearer.
Frank was a little uneasy as to how to greet his chums. He did not know whether or not they were aware that he had been away all night. But, as he beached the boat, one glance at their tousled hair, and their eyes, still heavy from sleep, told him he had only recently been missed. He knew how to act now, and, to further his plans, determined to let his chums believe he had been gone a short time only.
"Did you get the worm?" inquired Fenn.
"What worm?" Frank retorted.
"The one the early bird always gets."
"No, someone else was ahead of me," answered Frank, as Fenn's question confirmed his belief that his companions did not know of his night trip. "I was just out for a little paddle on the creek."
"How does she ride?" asked Bart, looking the canoe over.
"Fine; like a cork."
"You look as though you were pretty tired," commented Ned, with a curious look at his chum.
"I didn't sleep much last night."
"And I suppose you thought getting up early and paddling would rest you," Ned went on, but Frank did not answer.
"Come on, Fenn, hurry up with breakfast!" cried Bart, and soon the aroma of coffee filled the air.
Frank went to the tent to make a hasty toilet, while Bart, who was going fishing that day, followed him. Ned remained near the canoe. A little bundle in it attracted his attention. He picked it up, and opened it. Inside were several sandwiches, and Ned knew they had come from the camp supply.
"Frank took them with him in the canoe," he half whispered. "He has been away all night, and he had them in case he couldn't get back. I wonder where he was? I'll say nothing about this now," and, as he heard Bart approaching, he tossed the little package of food into the bushes. Puzzling over what Frank's object could have been, Ned went up to the tent.
Breakfast over, the boys took turns trying the canoe. It was a stauncher craft than the three churns had anticipated, though Frank had good reason to know the value of the rude canoe.
"I'm going fishing," declared Bart, as he dug some worms and put them in a can. "Any one else coming?"
"I'd like to take a trip in the canoe," said Fenn.
"That would suit me," put in Ned. "It will only carry two, though. What are you going to do, Frank?"
"I think I'll just lie around to-day. I'm a bit tired, and I need a rest. I didn't get much last night."
"I'm right," thought Ned. "He was away all night. I wonder when this mystery will end?"
Bart started off up stream, while Fenn and Ned, in the canoe, began to paddle down the creek. As for Frank, he stretched out on his cot, and, almost before the boys were out of sight, he was asleep. He did not awaken until dinner time, and then he got the meal. His chums were not yet back, but they came in a little while, with appetites that made Frank glad he had provided a bountiful repast. Bart had caught a number of fine fish, and Ned and Fenn were so enthusiastic over their canoe trip that they wanted to take another in the afternoon.
"Give me a show at it," said Bart. "I haven't been in it except the night we put it into the water. I want some fun. Frank and I will take it this afternoon."
"I don't believe I care to," Frank replied. "The truth is," he went on, "I was going to ask you fellows to loan the boat to me all day to-morrow. I want to go off by myself. Not that I don't desire your company," he hastened to add, as he saw his chums looked a little surprised, "but I have something to do and I've got to do it alone. Please don't ask me what it is. It's that same thing I'm mixed up in, and I think, if things turn out right to-morrow, I may be able to tell you something. Besides, I may need you to help me."
"We'll be only too glad to!" exclaimed Ned. "For we don't like to see you so worried, Frank."
"It's very good of you, I'm sure, to bother with me," Frank went on. "I hope you can help me, for I'll need it."
"Well, who's going with me in the canoe?" asked Bart, and, as Fenn did not care much about making another trip, Ned went, and Frank and Stumpy remained in camp, the latter busying himself over a wonderful pudding he set out to make with a combination of eggs, corn starch, sugar and raisins.
Frank set off in the canoe early the next morning. He took a lunch with him, and told his companions he might be away all night. He was going to try, however, to return by dark. Where he was going he did not say, nor did his chums ask him.
"Good luck!" exclaimed Fenn, as Frank began paddling.
"Thanks," he called back, and his companions waved their hands to him.
"It's very queer," murmured Ned, as he turned back toward the tent.
Frank reached the turn of the river, near the cliff, just before noon. Instead of taking the canoe to the foot of the rock, he hid it in the bushes near the bend of the stream, and then began tramping through the woods toward the sanitarium. He ate his lunch in the woods, and then took up his position near the big tree, whence, on his first visit, he had watched the sad-faced men.
He had to wait several hours. At length the little procession appeared, and Frank's heart beat so loudly he could almost hear it. He stood up and watched the men. Yes, the one he wanted to see was there. How was he to communicate with the man?
Chance, seemingly, gave him the opportunity he desired. There was a little disturbance at the head of the line. One of the patients insisted on taking a different path than the one the attendant designated, and there was a dispute. The guards at the end of the line ran toward the head, leaving the rear men unattended.
Frank ran from behind the tree, toward the procession which had halted. He approached the man, the sight of whom, on the previous occasion, had caused him such wonder. This man did not look up.
"I must have a talk with you in private!"
Frank said, in a low but tense whisper. The man looked quickly at him. His eyes seemed to see nothing.
"Who are you? What do you want of me?" he asked in dull tones. "I don't know you. I know no one in this world."
"I must speak to you!" cried Frank, as he saw the attendants returning.
For a moment the man whom Frank addressed remained staring dully at the boy. Nearer and nearer came the attendants, for the little excitement at the head of the line had been quelled.
"Your voice reminds me of someone," the man went on, "but I don't know you."
"I will tell you who I am, if you will tell me where I can see you alone to-night," Frank whispered, for the other patients were gazing curiously at him.
"I can go to the little summer house in the garden at the back," the man went on, as though it was of no interest to him. "This is my well night. I will be there at ten o'clock."
"I will meet you," Frank whispered, and then, seeing an attendant coming on a run toward him, the boy made a dash for the woods and disappeared.
"Who was that?" asked the guard, coming up to where Frank had stood conversing.
"It was the king of the cannibal islands!" exclaimed one of the other patients with a silly laugh. "He came to get me to enter into an alliance with him. I'm Lord Nelson, you know, and he wanted my fleet of ships to make war on the Queen of Fairy Land. But I refused. I am going to capture the Pyramids!" and the man began capering about like a child, singing nursery rhymes.
"Come, 'Lord Nelson,' you must get in line. This is dress parade," the attendant said.
But "Lord Nelson," as the insane man imagined himself to be, was not going to be coerced so easily. He started to run, and the keeper took after him. It was several minutes before "Lord Nelson" was caught, and, by that time, the guard had forgotten about Frank, and made no further inquiries. The patients resumed their march.
Frank, hurrying through the woods, felt himself in a tumult of doubts and fears. He wondered if he had done right, and what would be the outcome of the interview in the summer house. So much might depend on it, yet so little might come of it.
"I am sure I'm right," the boy murmured, as he went to where he had left his canoe. "If he only will recognize me! Oh! if he only will! But it is so many years!"
He reached his boat, and paddled up stream, thinking it best to hide, in case there might be a search made for him.
Frank remained in the seclusion of the woods, near the stream until dark. He still had some lunch left, and he ate that, meanwhile planning what he would say at the interview with the patient from the sanitarium.
"I must get him away from here," Frank thought. "Perhaps there may be a means of curing him, and then he can tell me everything connected with the secret. Oh! if he only could!"
How long the hours seemed while he waited! He thought ten o'clock would never come, but at last, looking at his watch by the light of a match, he saw it lacked but thirty minutes of that time. "I'll start," he said to himself. "He may be there a little ahead of me."
Frank reached the edge of the woods, where they marked the beginning of the sanitarium grounds. From there he took a cautious look. There seemed to be no one in sight, and he quickly ran across the open space to the summer house. This was a vine-covered arbor, situated at the back of the institution. Inside was a circular bench running all around, and it was a favorite place of such patients as were well enough to be allowed to roam about at will.
Frank looked inside the little house before he entered. There was no one there, and he sat down on the bench. Then, with eyes and ears on the alert for the first suspicious sight or sound, he waited. He could hear the distant tramping of the guards as they paced about the institution.
"It's just like a prison," the boy thought. "What a horrible place to stay in!"
A clock, somewhere in the institution, struck the hour of ten, the sound being plainly audible through the opened windows. Frank started to his feet. As he did so he heard someone approaching along the gravel path. His heart was beating with quick, hard throbs.
"Is the young man, who wanted to see me, here?" asked a voice.
"Yes, I am here," replied Frank.
"What do you want? You are a stranger to me. I do not know what whim made me agree to meet you here. I am not usually well enough to see visitors. Indeed I never have any. What do you wish?"
"I have come to take you away from here!"
"Take me away from here?" and the patient spoke the words as though they frightened him. "I can't go. I must stay. Sometimes, when I am feeling well, as I do now, I might wish that; but those times are rare. Mostly I am very ill. My head hurts me, and I cannot think. My mind becomes a blank. Then I am glad I am here, and do not wish to go away. But why should a stranger take so much interest in me? Why do you want to help me to escape? I do not know you."
"I want to help you, because—" began Frank.
"Hush! Someone is coming!" interrupted the man. "It is against the rules for the patients to talk to visitors. If you are found here they may arrest you. One of the guards is coming!"
"I don't care. I must tell you who I am."
"Hurry! Hurry away!" exclaimed the man.
"Not until I tell you what I came here for. I believe you are—"
"Who's there?" called the angry voice of one of the attendants, as he caught the sound of the voices in the summer house.
"You must go," the man pleaded with Frank. "You will only make trouble for yourself and me." He spoke in a whisper, and the guard who was running on the gravel path could not hear above the sound of his own footsteps.
"Can I see you again?" asked Frank.
"Yes. Sometime. But go now."
Frank saw it would be best to leave before the attendant arrived. He slipped out of the little house on the side that was in the deepest shadow, and hurried away. A few seconds later the guard entered the place, and Frank could hear him questioning the patient.
"Who was here?"
"The king of fairyland," was the response. "He came to bring me my golden chariot."
"Looney again," was the guard's comment which Frank heard. "Come on back to your room."
"I must try again," Frank said softly to himself as he hurried across the open space and into the woods once more. "I am on the right track!"
The boy made his way to where he had left the canoe. His mind was in a whirl at the scene he had just taken part in, and his heart, that had been filled with hope, was a little sad now at his failure. Still he had not given up.
"I'll go back to camp," he thought. "Then I can try again. I must have more time to talk to him, and we must get a chance when there will be no danger of interruptions. I will come again, but I must think up a new plan."
Then, setting the canoe into the water, he began to paddle back. Though it was approaching midnight he decided he would keep on, and get back to camp by morning.
Frank reached camp in time for breakfast. He was weary with his long night journey, and his chums saw evidences of the strain it had been on him in his eyes, heavy from need of sleep, and his arms, which trembled from the long paddling. But they did not question him.
"Here's some hot coffee!" called Fenn, as his chum drew the boat up on the bank.
"Thanks," replied Frank. "I think I'll go to bed if you fellows don't mind. I'm dead tired."
"We're going off fishing," said Bart. "You can do as you please, and lie around all day."
"We'll have to have some supplies this afternoon," put in Ned. "Camp stuff is running low. Someone has to go to some farmer's and buy some butter, eggs and bread."
"I'll go," volunteered Frank. "I'll take the trip this afternoon."
"All right," said Ned. "We may not be back until after dinner. We're going to take some grub with us. Go any time you want to. I guess the camp will look after itself for a while. We haven't been bothered with visitors since we came."
The three chums, having arranged their fishing tackle, started off, while Frank stretched out on his cot and was soon asleep.
It was noon when he awakened, and, after getting himself something to eat, he prepared to go for the supplies. The boys had arranged with a farmer, who lived about two miles from camp, to provide them with things to eat. Taking a big basket Frank was soon on the way.
"Wa'al, ain't you boys give up livin' in th' woods?" greeted Mr. Armstrong, when Frank had given his order for the camp supplies.
"No, we're still there. Bears haven't eaten us yet."
"That's strange, 'cause I seen a big flock of 'em headin' that way only th' other day. I says to my wife, says I, 'them b'ars is goin' to eat them boys, sure!'" and he laughed at his joke.
"Guess they got frightened," suggested Frank.
"Wa'al, now, mebby they did. How long you goin't' stay?"
"We haven't set any special time. All summer maybe. Until we get tired, anyhow."
"One night would tire me," commented Mr. Armstrong. "I like a roof over my head, I do. Now you wait a minute an' I'll git th' eggs an' other things. I keep 'em down cellar where it's cool. There's a paper ye might like t' look at. It's printed in the village, an' it gives all th' news from tellin' of how Deacon Jones's cow ate green apples an' died, t' relatin' th' momentous fact that Silas Landseer has painted his barn red. Make yourself right t' home an' read all th' news."
Frank took the paper and sat down in a big rocking chair on the side porch, while Mr. Armstrong, with the basket, went down in the cellar. The boy looked over the sheet, which contained news of the doings in the village and near-by. There were a few advertisements, of horses and cows for sale, of auctions about to take place, and one or two legal notices. As Frank's eyes roved over the columns he caught sight of something that caused him to utter an exclamation. He eagerly scanned a notice, and had only read half through it when Mr. Armstrong came up from the cellar.
"There!" exclaimed the farmer. "I reckon you boys ain't goin' t' starve this week," and he set down the basket, which was quite heavy. "Can you carry that out t' camp?"
"I guess so," replied Frank, holding the journal in his hand. "By the way, do you want this paper? I'd like to take it back with me."
"Take it an' welcome. Must be kind of lonesome out there in the woods. I've got a lot of old papers if you want 'em."
"No, thanks, this one will do," the boy said, folding the sheet and putting it into his pocket.
Paying the farmer, Frank took up the basket and started back toward camp. The victuals were heavy but he did not mind that. He was thinking of the notice he had seen in the paper. As soon as he was out of sight of the farmhouse, he sat down beside the trail that led to the tent, and took the sheet from his pocket. Turning to the page that had so interested him he read:
"WANTED: at the Cliffside Sanitarium, a strong, capable young man, to assist in the general work. One of quiet habits preferred. Apply to Dr. Jacob Hardman."
"I wonder if I dare do it," Frank said softly to himself. "It would give me just the chance I need. I have a good notion to try, at any rate. They can't any more than say they don't want me. And, if they do take me—"
He paused to think over the possibilities should he get the position. A light came into his eyes. He seemed to have forgotten the troubles of the past few weeks.
"The worst of it is, though, that I can't tell the boys. They wouldn't understand. I've got to work alone for a while yet, until I get things where I want them. I think the best plan will be to slip off, and say nothing to them at all. Explanations, especially when I can't give all the facts, will only tangle the thing up worse than it is. No, I've got to disappear again, and they must think what they will. It's the only way."
He picked up the heavy basket and started on again, folding the paper so that the advertisement was outside. Then he put the journal into his pocket.
"I hope I get back before the boys arrive," was his thought as he trudged on. "I must get away this afternoon, and make application this evening. The place may already be filled."
Frank was glad to note, when he got back to camp, that his three chums were still absent. He placed the basket of food where they could see it, and then, putting on his best clothes, and making a bundle of some underwear and other of his possessions he started off through the woods, following the telephone line.
"I wish I could take the canoe," he thought, as he saw it drawn up on the bank. "I would get there more quickly, but I have no way of sending it back, in case I stay. It wouldn't be fair. No, I'll have to tramp it. Guess I'll put on a pair of smoked glasses for a disguise. Some of those attendants may recognize me," and he tried on a pair he had in his pocket. He decided to use them when he asked for the place.
He had gone on about a mile when he felt for the paper. It was gone.
"It doesn't matter though," he told himself. "I know what it says. All I've got to do is to ask for Dr. Hardman, and tell him I think I'll fill the bill."
So he kept on through the woods, his mind filled with thoughts of many things, chief of which was the hope that he would get the situation, and be able to put his plan into operation.
It was well on toward evening when the three chums got back from their fishing trip, for they had tramped several miles. They had good luck, and brought back several beauties.
"Hello, Frank!" called Bart, when they were within hearing distance of the camp.
There was no answer.
"Maybe he's asleep yet," suggested Fenn.
"Hardly," commented Ned.
The boys reached the tent. The first thing they saw was the basket of provender Frank had left.
"Well, he's been to Armstrong's," remarked Bart. "Hello, Frank! Where are you?"
An echo was the only answer. Ned entered the tent. He came out in a hurry.
"Frank's run away!" he exclaimed.
"What makes you think so?" asked Bart, much surprised, while Fenn looked startled at the news.
"Because most of his clothes are gone."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. Look!" and he pointed to where they were missing from the small trunk in which Frank kept them.
"This is getting serious," declared Bart. "Something is wrong with Frank. I wonder where he could have gone?"
"What's that over there?" asked Fenn, pointing to a white object at the foot of a tree.
"It's a newspaper," said Ned, picking it up. "And it is turned to display an advertisement. I wonder if Frank could have gone to answer this?" and he read the item concerning the sanitarium.
It was about seven o'clock that evening when Frank, wearing the smoked glasses, rang the bell at the front door of the Cliffside Sanitarium. He had hurried through the woods as fast as he could, munching on the way a sandwich he had made before leaving camp.
His ring was answered by a woman with iron-gray hair who inquired what he wanted. When he said he had come in answer to the advertisement, he was shown into a little room opening from the main hall, and told to wait until Dr. Hardman came.
"Guess the place is still open, or they wouldn't ask me in," thought Frank.
He had not been in the little room three minutes before he heard voices out in the hall. One was that of the woman who had admitted him. At the sound of the other he started.
"You'll find him in the small reception room, Dr. Hardman," the woman had said.
"Ah, yes, thank you Mrs. Robotham. I'll see him directly. I wish you'd look after ward six to-night. The regular nurse is away."
"That's the man who was at my uncle's house!" Frank thought, as he heard the doctor's voice. "That's the man who threatened me in the dark. I didn't recognize that name Hardman when I saw the advertisement, but he's the man the boys took to the woods. What shall I do? I must not tell my name, that's certain, and yet he may recognize me, from seeing me in the woods that day. But the glasses might puzzle him. It's a good thing I thought of them," and he felt to see if they were properly adjusted. He had no time to speculate further, for Dr. Hardman entered at that moment.
"So you've come to answer the advertisement," the man spoke in brisk tones. "Well, you're the first one. Help isn't as plentiful in this locality as I thought. Now we want a young man to make himself generally useful, to do as he's told, not to ask too many questions, and above all, not to talk, outside, of what he sees going on in here. For I may as well tell you, what you already know, I suppose, as everyone in this neighborhood does. This is a private lunatic asylum, and a sanitarium for the treatment of persons suffering from nervous ailments. We have only one or two violent patients, and they are looked after by special guards. Most of the men here are only mildly affected. Still, we do not like those employed here to form outside acquaintances, and if we engaged you you will have to submit to our rules."
"I will be willing to do that," Frank said, and he had great hopes of getting the place.
"I don't suppose you've had much experience in a place like this," Dr. Hardman went on. "We don't expect that. All you will have to do is to obey orders. The pay is ten dollars a week and board. Do you think you'd like it? You seem like a strong, smart young chap. Are your eyes weak? I presume they must be or you wouldn't wear smoked glasses. Never mind, that doesn't make any difference here."
"I think I would like it very much." Frank was wondering what to say when the doctor would ask his name. He was glad the physician had not recognized him. But he was somewhat in the shadow, and Dr. Hardman appeared to be thinking of almost anything or any one than the boy before him. Besides, Frank's hair had been cut short recently and that altered his looks somewhat.
"Very well, I think I'll give you a trial. We need someone right away. Can you begin work at once?" Dr. Hardman asked.
"Yes," replied Frank, much delighted that his plan was working so well.
"Very good. You can tell me something about yourself to-morrow, and furnish references I suppose. I see you have brought your valise with you. Your supply of clothing, I suppose?"
"Yes, I can stay here to-night."
"That's good. I'll not need to see much of you, as I am very busy. You'll be under the direction of Mrs. Robotham, my assistant. By the way, I presume you have no objection to being designated by a number?"
"By a number?" inquired Frank, somewhat puzzled.
"Yes. You see many of our patients have queer notions. Names are strange things to them. They often bring back painful memories. To avoid that we are all known by numbers here."
"I don't mind in the least." In fact Frank was glad. This might be the means of enabling him to keep his name hidden, and not necessitate him giving a false one, which he did not like to do, even to gain his ends.
"Very good, I'm number one, Mrs. Robotham is number two, and so on. You'll be number thirty-one."
"All right," Frank answered, and he was relieved when Dr. Hardman turned away, without seeking to question him further. Clearly the red-haired physician had not recognized the boy as the one who had followed him that night in the darkness from Mr. Dent's house, nor the one he had run from in the woods.
Mrs. Robotham came in at that juncture and, as he passed her in the doorway, Dr. Hardman announced that he had engaged the boy. He told his assistant to instruct Frank where to go and what to do.
"Come with me and I'll show you your room," said the woman, and Frank followed, wondering what he was going to do, now that he had the place at the sanitarium.
"Have you had supper?" asked Mrs. Robotham.
"Not very much," was the answer, as Frank thought of the sandwich in the woods.
"After you put your things away you can come down to the dining-room. Most of the nurses and attendants have finished, but there is plenty left."
"What are my duties?" asked Frank.
"I shall put you on corridor work. That is, you will walk up and down the corridors, and, if you hear any of the patients calling, or note any unusual noise, you are to ring the bell. I will show you about it."
After supper, which he ate alone in the big dining-room, Frank was taken upstairs by Mrs. Robotham, and instructed in his work. The sanitarium was a large one, and there were a number of corridors, from which opened the rooms of the patients.
"We have night and day shifts for this duty," Dr. Hardman's assistant explained, "but we are a little short-handed now, so you will have to work harder than usual. I am glad the doctor took you, as I have had to do some of this corridor work myself, and, with my other duties, it has made me quite played out. All you have to do is to walk around. I will give you a pair of felt slippers which you are to wear nights, as they make no noise. When you hear any unusual commotion in any of the rooms, go to the end of the corridor and press the push button the number of times to correspond with the number on the door of the room. Attendants will answer the bell, and do whatever is necessary. Do you think you understand it?"
Frank said he did, and, a little later, with his feet in a pair of soft slippers, which were rather large for him, he was patroling up and down the corridors.
"Well, this is getting into a lunatic asylum in a hurry," he thought as he walked along. "How strange it turned out! The mere chance of Mr. Armstrong giving me that paper this afternoon brings me here to-night. I wonder if I can do what I set out to do? First I must find out which is his room. That I can't do until I see him again, for if I make inquiries of any of the attendants they will get suspicious and tell Dr. Hardman, and then I'll have to leave."
For an hour or more Frank walked up and down the corridors. He had three for which he was responsible. It was rather monotonous work, even though now and then nurses and attendants passed through. He was beginning to feel sleepy, and decided that a drink of ice water would rouse him. He walked to the end of the long hall to where the cooler stood. As he was passing room twenty-seven he heard a great racket within. It sounded as though the inmate had knocked over the table and chairs. At the same time, from the apartment, came the sound of a voice, pitched high in anger.
"There, knave! I have slain you at last!" was shouted in a man's voice. "Now, villains, do your worst! Ah! There is yet another scoundrel to slay!"
The noise of breaking wood increased, and Frank, in great alarm, ran to the push button and rang the signal, two strokes followed after a pause by seven others.
The noise of attendants, approaching on the run, could be heard. Frank hurried back to the room whence the noise was still coming. As he passed the apartment next to it, number twenty-eight, a man's head was thrust from the opened door. At the sight of it Frank could not repress an exclamation of astonishment. It was the man he wanted to find; the man with whom he had talked in the summer house. At the same instant the man recognized the boy, but, with a motion of his fingers to his lips, to enjoin silence, he shut the door of his room, and Frank heard the key turn in the lock.
By this time the attendants were at room twenty-seven. Several of them entered, and the commotion that had gone on without ceasing since Frank first heard it, quieted down. As the boy passed the apartment he saw a little man, standing in a fighting attitude, grasping the leg of a chair for a weapon, and seemingly bidding defiance to a horde of imaginary enemies.
"What is the trouble, your majesty?" he heard one of the attendants ask the patient.
"Why, the rebels have risen against their liege lord."
"We will attend to them," the attendant replied. "Sir Knight," turning to one of his companions, "order out the guard and take all the rebels to prison."
"That's the way to talk," interrupted his majesty with a laugh, not much in keeping with his assumed dignity. "Put the varlets in prison and I will have them beheaded to-morrow."
He was quieter now, and the attendants, pretending to drive before them a crowd of men who had defied the king, left the room. The head nurse, a strong man, who seemed to know just how to treat the patient, helped to set the room in order.
"Here, your majesty," he said, holding out a glass of liquid, "here is your favorite beverage; fresh buttermilk."
"It is very welcome," said the patient readily swallowing the liquid which looked like anything but the product from the churn.
"He'll be quiet for the rest of the night," the attendant observed to Frank, as he left the room, having seen the pretended king get into bed. "We call his sleeping medicine buttermilk, and he takes it like a baby. You're a new one, aren't you?"
"I came this evening."
"Well, you've seen one of our worst ones. Most of 'em are as quiet as the man in twenty-eight. He only gets real bad once in a while."
"Who is he?" asked Frank, impulsively.
The attendant looked curiously at the boy.
"Don't you know the rules?" he asked. "That's so, you're a new boy. Well, it's not allowed to talk about the patients, even among ourselves. No names are mentioned. In fact, I don't believe any of 'em would know their names if they heard 'em. This is a queer place. It hasn't been here very long. It was only built last year, but some of the patients have been with the doctor a long time. He transferred them from an asylum that he kept in New York."
By this time the patient, who imagined himself a king, was sleeping soundly, if his snores were any evidence. The guard went away with the other attendants, and Frank was left to patrol the corridors alone. There was one predominant thought in his mind. He must speak to the man in room twenty-eight.
He walked about through the long halls, listening for any further sounds of disturbance, but the sanitarium was very quiet. Every one but himself seemed slumbering, though he knew the attendants were ready to rush up at the sound of the bell.
"I wonder if he is asleep?" thought Frank, as he passed room twenty-eight. "I'm going to knock on his door. He recognized me once and he may again. Then maybe we can have a talk."
Cautiously he tapped on the portal. There was no answer. He waited, and knocked again. Then, through the keyhole, a cautious voice asked:
"Who is there?"
"It is the boy who spoke to you in the summer house," was Frank's reply. "Let me in."
The door was slowly opened and Frank entered the dark apartment. It was not without a little feeling of apprehension that he went in. He was alone in the room with a lunatic; a patient who became violent at times, the attendant had said. Suppose one of those fits should come on when Frank was with him? The boy did not like to think of this.
"What do you want?" the man in room twenty-eight asked, before he closed the door.
"I want to help you to escape."
"Hush! Don't let any of them hear you!" And the man, putting his hand over Frank's mouth, pulled him further inside and closed the door. Then they talked in whispers.
It was an hour later when Frank came out. There was a look of hope on his face as the gleam from an incandescent lamp, far down the corridor, illuminated his countenance.
"I'm sure I can manage it," he whispered to the man. "I'll have you out of here inside of a week, and then we can go away together."
"You may need help," the sanitarium patient said. "This place is closely guarded."
"I can get help," Frank replied, as he thought of his three chums. Then, with a hearty hand clasp, the man in room twenty-eight bade the boy go.
Frank resumed his walk up and down the corridors. But now he was wide awake, for he was planning to escape. Up and down he walked, arranging the details in his mind. At first it had seemed simple, but now, as he thought it over, unexpected difficulties arose.
"But I must do it!" he exclaimed to himself. "To think I have really found him, and that he is not insane at all. It's all part of a terrible plot. But I will solve the secret, and then—"
His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion in room twenty-eight; the apartment he had just left.
"They're killing me! They're killing me!" cried a voice in agony. "Don't let them! Take the cannibals away! I have come here to trade with the natives peaceably! Don't let them kill me!"