CHAPTER XXIII

PLANNING A RESCUE

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!"

Sick at heart, and with nameless dread in his bosom, Frank ran to the bell and gave the signal for help.



CHAPTER XXIV

FRANK LOSES HOPE

Once more came the attendants, running up the stairs. Frank pointed to the room he had just left. His face was pale and drawn.

"You're not used to it yet," said the big guard, who had spoken to him before, as he passed the boy. "You'll not mind it in a week."

Then he, and the others, entered the apartment whence the frightened cries were still coming. Frank could not bear to stay where he could hear them. He went to the corridor below. In a little while the attendants came down.

"He didn't have it bad this time," the big guard said to Frank. "It was a mild attack. He always imagines he's an explorer in a savage country, and that the cannibals are going to kill him. Not very pleasant, but it's nothing to what some of 'em think. You're having quite a night of it. But never mind, I guess they'll quiet down now."

Frank was beginning to lose hope. All his plans seemed likely to come to naught. He was so sure the man in room twenty-eight was sane, yet, soon after conversing with him, during which time the man had talked as rationally as could be desired, he had suddenly turned into a raving maniac.

"I can't understand it," said Frank. "What shall I do? Oh, if I only had someone to help and advise me. I can't go to a soul. If the boys—" he stopped suddenly. "Yes, why not? Why not tell them the whole story? They could help me! That's what I'll do. I'll make one more attempt by myself, and then, if it fails, I'll ask them to aid me. I must see him again. Perhaps this fit was only temporary, and will not come again for a long time. I must have another talk with him."

The long night came to an end at last. Frank was relieved by a young man who told him to go and get breakfast, and then to go to bed.

"You'll have day work after to-night," he said, and Frank was glad to hear it. The darkness was made worse by the sudden alarms from the patients' rooms.

Frank slept late that day, and went on duty about four o'clock in the afternoon. That night passed quietly, but he did not dare knock on the door of room twenty-eight. He was afraid the man might be suffering from one of his insane attacks. The boy had almost lost heart but he had not altogether given up.

Not until the next day did he get a chance to talk with the patient on whom, for him, so much depended. He found the man anxious and waiting to see him.

"Come in, where we can talk quietly," the patient said, and Frank entered, looking to see that no one observed him, for he was breaking the rules. He removed the dark glasses when he was in the room, for they hurt his nose and ears.

The two had a long talk and planned many things. The boy's courage and hope came back to him, and he grew so enthusiastic in arranging to help the patient leave the institution, in order that the mystery might be cleared up, that he spoke louder than he intended.

"Quiet!" the man cautioned. "The attendants will hear you, and you will be dismissed."

Frank lowered his voice.

"I will come and see you to-morrow," he said, as he prepared to go.

At that moment there was the sound of several persons walking in the corridor. Then could be heard the voice of Dr. Hardman. He was showing a party of medical men through the place.

"You will find this up-to-date in every respect," he was saying. "I will just show you one of the patient's rooms," and he opened the door of the apartment where Frank was.

At the sight of the boy the head of the sanitarium looked much surprised. He knew there had been no excitement, and, in consequence, no excuse for Frank entering the room. Dr. Hardman glanced sharply at the boy, as Frank, putting on his glasses, hurried off down the corridor. But the physician said nothing, because visitors were present. Dr. Hardman went on explaining the system used at the sanitarium, but Frank, as he disappeared around a corner, felt that he would be dismissed as soon as the doctor was at liberty.

"Well, it's all over now," Frank thought "He recognized me and I've got to take the bull by the horns. However, I think I have things so arranged that I can carry out my plans without any trouble. I must get the boys to help me."

Fortunately for Frank, the visitors remained a long time. They stayed to dinner, and Dr. Hardman had to be with them. He had no chance to speak to Frank, though he sent a message by one of the attendants that the new boy was to go to the office, and wait there for the physician.

"If I go it means he'll dismiss me," thought Frank. "I'll keep out of his sight as long as I can. I must get a chance to enter room twenty-eight once more, to say that I am going away, but that I will carry out the plan of rescue. After that I will leave before Dr. Hardman gets a chance to discharge me, or ask questions."

But Frank's plans did not work out as he expected they would. He did manage to get to room twenty-eight again, at a time when that part of the building was deserted. Most of the patients had gone out for the usual afternoon exercise, but the one Frank wanted to see, had remained in.

He knocked at the door. It was opened on a crack, and a man peered out.

"Go away!" he exclaimed. "I don't know you!"

"Why! Why !" cried Frank, in great surprise. "Don't you remember. I am—"

"I know, you are the king of the cannibal islands, and you are trying to capture me. Go away, I say! I am only a poor explorer, but I will fight for my liberty!"

Then the door was slammed shut, and the man in the room began screaming and calling for help.

Frank gave way to despair. It was all over now. He had hoped the man would remain in a sane state long enough to be able to understand that a change of plan was necessary. Now he could comprehend nothing.

"I can never rescue him!" Frank exclaimed, as he ran to give the signal that one of the patients was violent.

With the attendants came Dr. Hardman. As he caught sight of Frank he cried excitedly:

"Where have you been? I have been waiting for you. Come to my office at once! You have broken the rules! I want an explanation!"

He turned, evidently expecting Frank to follow, but the boy was going to do nothing of the sort. He went down the corridor, until he came to where a flight of stairs led to the exercise yard. Then, running swiftly on his tip-toes so as to make no noise, he went down them.

"I'm going to leave," he said to himself. "It's time for action now. I'm going back to camp!"

In the meanwhile attendants had gone to the patient in room twenty-eight and had quieted him. Dr. Hardman reached his office, and waited for Frank to appear. He thought the boy was following him. When several minutes had passed and Frank did not come the doctor sent for one of the attendants.

"Where is that new boy?" he asked.

"The last I saw of him was when he was going down the side stairs."

"The side stairs! I told him to come with me. He must have run away. Quick! Have a search made, and report to me!" As the attendant hurried away Dr. Hardman exclaimed:

"I see it all now. Why was I so foolish as to engage him without making some inquiries or asking his name. I wonder why I didn't recognize him that night I hired him. As soon as I saw him in the room without the glasses I knew I had seen his face before. It was in the woods that day. That boy was Frank Roscoe. I hope they catch him!"

In a little while the attendant came back to report there was no trace of Frank.

"We must give number twenty-eight a new room," said Dr. Hardman. "Change him to the north wing, and put him on the top floor."

The attendant left to carry out the instructions, and Dr. Hardman sat down in his office chair, obviously ill at ease.

"I should have been more careful," he murmured. "Well, it may not be too late yet. I will take all precautions."

Meanwhile Frank was hurrying away from the sanitarium. Having to leave so suddenly he had no time to go to his room for his belongings, and the clothes he wore were the only things he brought away with him. However, he did not mind that, as he was busy planning many things.

"I can't understand it," he said to himself. "At one time he is as sane as I am, and again, he is violent. I know they are detaining him here for a purpose. Perhaps they do something to him to make him insane at times."

The thought was a new one, and it came to Frank in a flash that perhaps that was the real explanation.

"If it is there is hope for him," he said. "Oh, I only wish I had him away from the horrible place!"

Then, late that afternoon, he made his way to the town of Lockport, where, with money he had brought with him from camp, he engaged a room at a hotel. The next morning he started back to join his friends.



CHAPTER XXV

FRANK'S SECRET DISCLOSED

When Ned had finished reading the advertisement in the newspaper which Frank dropped that afternoon as he was leaving camp, the three chums looked at one another, vaguely wondering what it meant.

"Do you suppose he's gone to get that place?" asked Fenn.

"I think so," Ned replied.

"But why would he want to do that?" asked Bart.

"I have a theory that Frank is much interested in the subject of insanity," Ned went on.

"You told us that before," interrupted Fenn. "What about it?"

"Well, I did think, at one time since all this queer business came up, that Frank's mind might be affected. Now I think he may be interested in someone who has gone insane. He certainly has some queer secret, and it's getting more and more of a trouble to him. Why, this is the third time he has run away from us!"

"It's only the second," interposed Bart.

"It's the third," insisted Ned, and he told of the time he suspected Frank had taken the canoe and remained away all night.

"Do you suppose he went to the sanitarium each time?" asked Fenn.

"I believe so," Ned replied. "That's what makes me think that someone is there in whom Frank is much interested. Now comes this advertisement. The paper is only a few days old, as you can see by the date. I believe Frank has gone to see if he can't get this position. Perhaps he wants to help someone, and this is the only way he can do it."

"It looks reasonable," admitted Bart. "What can we do?"

"I don't see that we can do anything," spoke Ned, "If Frank is there he certainly will not want us coming around, and, perhaps, give his plans away. On the other hand we are not sure he is there. We don't even know where the sanitarium is, but I suppose we could easily find out from Mr. Armstrong. Frank got the paper there, I guess."

"Maybe the telephone line runs to the sanitarium," suggested Fenn.

"That's it! I believe you're right!" exclaimed Ned. "I never thought of that. Why, it was by following the line that we met Frank before. Let's follow it again, and perhaps we shall come to the insane asylum."

"And suppose we do?" asked Bart.

"Well, we'll know where it is," Ned went on. "That's something. We may not see Frank, but perhaps we can find out if he is there. It's worth trying. I can't sit still and do nothing."

They started to follow the telephone line the next day. They found it did lead to the sanitarium but not wishing to show themselves near the building, they did not approach closely. They remained hiding in the woods, hoping they might catch a glimpse of their chum, but he did not show himself.

"I guess the only thing for us to do is to return to camp," suggested Bart. "We'll have to wait until Frank comes away and tells us what he has been doing."

Rather sorrowfully, they went back to camp. The two days that followed were lonesome ones. None of the three felt like doing anything. They did not fish, and even the canoe had lost its charm. They sat around under the trees, and, for the twentieth time, talked over the situation in regard to their missing comrade.

"It looks as if the Darewell Chums would number three instead of four, after this," said Fenn rather mournfully, on the morning of the third day of Frank's absence.

"Don't be a calamity howler!" exclaimed Ned. "Frank will come back to us. The chums can't be separated."

"I hope that's true," put in Bart, from where he was sitting under a tree, smoothing one of the canoe paddles. "All our fun will be spoiled if we have to break up the quartette.

"Hark! What's that?" asked Fenn, sitting up suddenly.

They all listened. There was the sound of someone approaching through the bushes.

"Cow, I guess," said Bart.

"It's Frank!" cried Ned, jumping to his feet, and, the next instant Frank was in the midst of his chums. He looked worn and tired, and his clothes were covered with mud and water.

"Where in the world have you been? What has happened to you?" cried Bart.

"I got in the swamp trying to take a short cut," Frank explained. "I'm clean beat out. Have you got any coffee?"

"Make you some in a jiffy," said Fenn, throwing some light wood on the smouldering fire.

"I suppose you're surprised to see me?" asked Frank to his companions.

"There's no use saying we aren't," spoke Ned.

"And I guess you were surprised to find me gone?"

"Right again. But we guessed where you were."

"How?"

Ned showed the paper with the advertisement in it.

"I wondered where I had lost that," Frank said. "Well, boys, I'm going to tell you my secret."

"Have some coffee before you begin," suggested Fenn, as he handed Frank a steaming cupful. "It's only warmed up, but it's good."

The exhausted boy drank it, and ate some bread. Then having changed some of his muddy clothes for garments loaned him by his chums, Frank began:

"You guessed rightly, I did go to the sanitarium, and I got the position. But I don't believe any of you can guess why."

"Was it to get experience about crazy persons?" asked Ned.

"I went there to plan to rescue my father," said Frank, quietly.

The announcement was so startling that the three chums could only look at one another. Then they glanced back at Frank to see if he was in earnest. Ned, for a moment, had an idea that his original theory was right, and that Frank's mind was affected. But one look at the boy showed that, though he labored under the stress of excitement, he knew what he was talking about.

"Your father!" exclaimed Bart. "I thought he was—"

"You thought he was dead; so did I," Frank broke in. "That is, until recently. It's a long story, and I haven't got it all straight in my mind yet. One thing I am sure of is that my father is detained in that asylum against his will, and I am going to rescue him!"

"And we'll help you!" exclaimed Ned.

"That's what we will," chimed in Bart and Fenn.

"I may need your aid," Frank went on. "Now let me tell you what I know, and how I found it out. Do you remember that special delivery letter I got when we were in swimming that day? The one John Newton brought me?"

The chums had no difficulty in recollecting the scene. They recalled it perfectly. It was from then that Frank's manner began to change.

"Well," Frank went on, "that letter gave me the first clue. It was from a firm of lawyers, Wright & Johnson, of New York. They said they were trustees for some property that was owned by a man named Roscoe and that they could not find him or his heirs. They wrote to me, asking if, by any chance, I might be interested in it. I did not want to say anything to you boys, for I could not tell how it would turn out. I went to Judge Benton with the letter, and he wrote me one to send to the lawyers. But I did not hear from them again for a long time, and I felt that there had been a mistake made.

"Later on I got another letter from them. They said they had been investigating and had learned that James Roscoe, the name of the man who owned the property, had been heard from, but that he was insane, and was in the custody of some unscrupulous men, who were not treating him properly. The law firm said they understood that Mr. Roscoe was not altogether insane, but that his mind was affected by the treatment he received at the hands of the men. With proper care he might recover, they said.

"At that time I did not know he was my father, or that he was any near relative of mine. I had always lived with my uncle and I never knew my father or my mother."

For a little while Frank's emotion overcame him. Then he resumed:

"I had some correspondence with Wright & Johnson and they tried to locate Mr. Roscoe. They found out where he was, but just as they were about to aid him the asylum was moved away.

"They tried to get on the track of the man who was in charge of it. Then they sent me a lot of papers and photographs connected with the case and I learned that James Roscoe was my father. He was an explorer, and soon after I was born he went on an expedition. He was captured and held prisoner by some savage natives for a number of years. Word came that he had been murdered and the shock of it killed my mother. I was taken to the home of my uncle, Mr. Dent, where I have lived ever since."

"But why didn't you go to your uncle and get him to help you?" asked Ned.

"I didn't think of it until too late," Frank replied. "The day I found out that James Roscoe was my father I went home to tell my uncle all about it and to ask his help. When I got there I heard someone talking to him. I listened and I found out they were conversing about my father. From what they said I knew he was still in a sanitarium, and when I heard my uncle agree with the man that he had better stay there I knew my uncle was in league with the plotters."

"Are you sure of that?" asked Bart. "Mr. Dent doesn't seem like that kind of a man."

"I am sure enough," replied Frank bitterly. "Well, I followed the man until he heard me after him, and told me to go back. Then I went to my uncle's house. I said nothing of my suspicions, but I resolved to find out all I could. Finally I found the man who had been talking to my uncle."

"Who was it?" asked Fenn.

"Hardman, the man you took to the woods. He is Dr. Hardman, in charge of the sanitarium where my father is held a prisoner."

"Are you sure of this?" asked Ned.

"Positive. I have not finished yet. When I saw Dr. Hardman in the woods that day you were with him, and noted that he ran away from me, I thought I was on the right track. He recognized me, it seems, and that's why he ran. Then I made inquiries and I learned there was an asylum, a new one, somewhere in this direction. Few persons have heard anything about it, as, though it is a legal institution, the proprietor does not want too much known about it.

"When we came camping here I decided to keep on trying to solve the mystery. I wanted to see my father and have a talk with him. I ran away from you, as you know, and I saw the patients at the sanitarium taking exercise. I recognized my father as one, for, though I had never seen him since I had grown up, I knew it was him from the picture the lawyers sent. He had not changed much, except that he was older. It appears he escaped from the cannibals and came to this country. But a fever had slightly affected his head, and he went to a sanitarium for treatment. There he got under the control of some evil men, who used him for their own ends. I do not yet understand it all, save there is some property involved. But I am going to solve the secret. I know where my father is, and the rest is comparatively easy."

Frank told how he had had several interviews with his father, who, after some difficulty, recognized his son. The two had planned the escape from the asylum.

"One thing I can't understand though," Frank went on, "is how he appears sane at times, and again is like a violent maniac and does not know me. I am afraid of this. I am sure my father's mind is sound and good, and the only way I can account for it is that they must do something to him at times, to make him violent. It is to their interest to make him altogether insane, so they can control the property."

"How do you account for those men I heard talking in the building the time I was captured by the Upside Down Club?" asked Ned.

"I don't know who they were," Frank admitted, "but I am sure they were in the plot. They were probably planning some details or they may have been in Darewell to see my uncle. I believe he's in the plot."

"There's where I don't agree with you," said Bart. "Mr. Dent may seem to be playing into the hands of the men, but I think you will find he has been fooled by them. In fact, they admitted as much, according to what Ned overheard."

"I hope so, but I will not trust him until I have my father safe," Frank went on.

He then related how Mr. Roscoe had told of his detention in the asylum, his despair at never seeing his son again, of how he had heard of his wife's death, and of his desire to escape.

"And what are you going to do now?" asked Bart, when Frank had finished.

"I am going to rescue my father!" "Then count us in!" exclaimed Ned.



CHAPTER XXVI

ARRANGING AN ESCAPE

Frank's story was such an interesting one that the three chums felt as though they never could stop asking questions. They particularly wanted to know about Mr. Roscoe's detention among the cannibals, but of that Frank could tell little.

"We were too busy talking of the present to dip much into the past," he said. "Besides, I had only a very little time. I was interrupted so often. I don't know all of the story yet, but I will in time. This Dr. Hardman is one of the chief conspirators. It's lucky I wore the glasses so he didn't recognize me at first or I'd never have gotten as far along as I did. I guess he didn't have a good look at me that day in the woods."

"I wonder what his game was, having us take him to the forest?" asked Bart.

"Probably he wanted to be sure that none of his patients could escape from the sanitarium and get to Darewell that way," suggested Frank. "I believe Dr. Hardman had an idea my father might try to find me, and wanted to be assured that if he tried it he would get lost in the forest."

"I believe you're right," said Bart.

"Well, you certainly worked this up in great shape," commented Ned. "We couldn't understand what ailed you. I began to think you were a bit crazy yourself."

"I don't blame you," Frank replied with a smile. "I certainly did have a lot on my mind, and the way I acted must have seemed strange to you boys. But I'm glad part of it is over. When I have my father with me again I will be perfectly happy. Just think of it, boys, living all these years, and never knowing I had a father, and then suddenly to find I've got one! It's just like a story in a book, isn't it."

"It beats lot of books!" declared Fenn. "I wonder if those cannibals tried to eat him?"

"He doesn't look as though he had been boiled or roasted," Frank answered, "though he is not a well man, from all the trouble he has had. But wait until we rescue him!"

"That's what I was going to ask you. How are you going to do it?" inquired Ned.

"I have a plan partly worked out," replied Frank. "He and I talked it over. I am to get a long ladder and place it at his window the first dark and rainy night we have. We agreed it would be better to try it when there was a storm, as, if we make any noise, it will not attract so much attention."

"That's a good idea," commented Bart. "Where are you going to get the ladder?"

"I guess Mr. Armstrong has one he would let us take."

"How are you going to get it to the sanitarium? It's a good way off."

"I thought maybe you'd assist me about that part," spoke Frank. "I've got to have help."

"Of course you have," declared Ned. "Now I have an idea. We can take that ladder to the woods near the sanitarium on the back of a donkey. Mr. Armstrong has one. It's about the only way we could transport it, as the trails are too narrow for a wagon. We can fix it on the donkey's back lengthwise, and he can go through narrow places that way."

"Then what?" asked Fenn.

"We'll hide the ladder in the woods, close to the edge of the asylum grounds, and, the first stormy night that comes we'll go there and rescue Mr. Roscoe."

"Do you know where his room is?" asked Bart.

"Yes, it's number twenty-eight; one of the outside apartments and easy to reach with a ladder. We agreed on a signal. When I throw three pebbles at his window, wait a bit and throw two more, he is to raise the sash. Fortunately there are no bars to his window, as he is not regarded as a violent patient. The only thing I am afraid of is that he may have one of his insane spells just as we are about to rescue him. That would raise an alarm, and the plan might fail."

"We'll hope for the best," said Bart, cheerfully, "Now let's go all over the details and arrange our campaign. This is the first time I ever helped in a raid on a sanitarium."

"I hope it will be the last," spoke Frank. "It's a sad-enough thing, and I only wish it was over."

"Cheer up," counseled Fenn. "You've had it pretty hard, carrying that secret all alone. Now we're going to help you; aren't we, fellows?"

"That's what we are!" chorused Bart and Ned, and at that Frank smiled. He seemed to have lost much of the gloom that had enveloped him for the past few weeks.

"Well, let's get to work," suggested Ned. "The sooner this thing is done the better. The weather has been fine for the past week, and it's liable now to rain soon. In fact, I think a storm is brewing," and he looked up through the trees to the sky.

It was becoming overcast, and the direction of the wind had changed. Ned's chums agreed with him it would be best to lose no time.

"Fenn and I will go over to Mr. Armstrong's house this afternoon," said Bart. "We'll find out about the ladder and the donkey."

"There's another thing to be thought of," said Ned. "What are you going to do with your father when you get him, Frank?"

"I did have an idea I would take him to the hotel in Lockport."

"I wouldn't do that," said Ned. "That will be the first place they will look for him. Why not bring him here?"

"It would be too long a journey through the woods," objected Fenn. "Especially if he isn't well, and it's raining."

"I have it!" cried Frank. "The canoe!"

"The canoe isn't built for land travel," remarked Bart.

"No, but it can go on the creek and river all the way to the sanitarium," said Frank. "I know, for I tried it." Then he told his chums of the night journey he had made.

"I was right then," commented Ned, and he related how he suspected Frank had made a journey in the craft.

"One of us might paddle the canoe to the foot of the cliff," went on Frank. "I can take my father to it, and put him into the boat."

"That's a good idea," agreed Bart. "I never thought our canoe would be of such service."

"It's a fine craft," Frank said. "It only leaks a little bit."

"Then you and I will patch it up this afternoon when Bart and Fenn go after the ladder," said Ned. "We can finish by night, and then, the first thing in the morning, we'll get the donkey and start through the woods. We'll have to do that part of it by daylight, as we can't see at night. But I guess it's safe, as there is no one in the woods."

Things were very different in the camp than they had been a few hours previously. Now there was hope and activity, while, before, there had been gloom and apprehension.

After dinner Bart and Fenn went to Mr. Armstrong's house, while Ned and Frank busied themselves over the canoe. They patched it up, strengthened it in weak places, and made it ready for the journey. It was decided that Frank had better make the trip in the boat to the foot of the cliff, as he knew the stream better than the other three.

"There, I guess that will do," observed Ned, as he daubed a bit of pine gum on a small crack. "I'll wager it doesn't leak a drop. The paddle is better than when you first made the trip, Frank."

"I'm glad of it. It was so rough before it blistered my hands."

In the meanwhile Bart and Fenn had reached Mr. Armstrong's house. They found the farmer had a long, light ladder, and was willing to let them take it.

"Hope you aren't going t' rob an apple orchard or raid a hen roost," he said with a laugh.

"Nothing like that," Bart assured their friend. "Now if you'll lend us your donkey we'll be much obliged."

"My donkey! Good land! Are you going t' start a circus and have the donkey do tricks?"

"Not exactly," Bart replied, and then, thinking it was only fair to explain why they wanted the ladder and the animal, the boys told Mr. Armstrong something of Frank's story. The farmer was in sympathy with them at once.

"I wish I could help you," he said eagerly. "Can't I go 'long?"

"We're much obliged," replied Bart, "but I guess we can do better alone. We're thankful for the ladder and the donkey."

"Maybe you'll be sorry you took the beast," Mr. Armstrong added. "He's tricky, but he can't do much with the ladder on his back. It's a great idea. Now if you want any more help let me know."

The boys promised that they would, and, bidding the farmer good-day they started off. The ladder was fastened to the donkey's back lengthwise, and rested on a pile of bagging so that it would not injure the animal. The front end stuck well up into the air, while the rear nearly dragged on the ground.

The path from the farmhouse to the camp was a fairly good one, and the boys had no difficulty in leading the donkey along. The beast went quietly enough, and Fenn remarked:

"I guess Mr. Armstrong didn't know how to treat this donkey. He's as gentle as a lamb."

"You're not out of the woods yet," observed Bart, which was true in a double sense.

However, they reached the camp without a mishap, and found Ned and Frank waiting for them.



CHAPTER XXVII

THE RUNAWAY DONKEY

That night the boys talked over all their plans. They agreed that if the next night was a stormy one they would try to rescue Mr. Roscoe. The donkey was tethered outside the tent, and seemed satisfied with his surroundings. The boys patted him and fed him on all sorts of dainties, from sugar to pancakes made from quick-raising flour.

"Might as well keep on the good side of him," observed Fenn. "He's got quite a trip ahead of him."

They decided to start off early in the morning and take the ladder to the edge of the sanitarium grounds, hiding it in the woods.

It began to rain that night. There was a regual downpour, so hard that it awakened the boys by pelting on the canvas roof over their heads.

"This is a storm, and no mistake!" exclaimed Fenn, sitting up in his cot. "If it keeps up tomorrow night we could rescue every inmate in the sanitarium."

Suddenly, above the sound of the rain, there came a startling noise. It was like the mingled roar of a lion and the snarl of a tiger.

"What's that?" cried Ned.

"It's the donkey braying!" replied Fenn, and, a moment later, when the sound was repeated, his companions knew Fenn was right.

"He doesn't like being out in the rain," Fenn went on. "I'm going to put him under the wood-tent."

This was a piece of canvas stretched between two trees and served to keep the camp wood, and some other effects, dry. Fenn put on his raincoat, slipped a pair of rubber boots on and went outside. He carried a lantern, and as soon as he emerged from the tent the donkey set up a bray that was twice as loud as the others had been.

"He's glad to see me," called Fenn, and he led the beast under the shelter. It seemed that this was what the donkey wanted, for he became quiet after that, and the boys went to sleep in spite of the noise the rain made.

It had not cleared when morning came, but they did not mind that. They all had raincoats, for Frank had not taken his to the sanitarium, and, with rubber boots, were ready to brave the elements.

Once more the ladder was fastened to the donkey's back and the boys started off. They closed the tent to keep the rain out, and put the canoe where it would be safe. They took a lunch along, for they felt they might have to undertake a longer journey than the boys had made in going to the asylum, as the animal could not follow over some of the places where the lads had tramped.

They followed, in a general direction, the telephone line. Frank told them he had learned this connected with the central exchange in Darewell, and had only been in use a short time. It had been strung by some of the asylum attendants and was a private wire.

For a while the boys trudged on through the rain, picking out the easiest paths for the donkey, which Bart was leading. Fenn walked ahead to see that there were no vines or trees that might catch the ladder, while Frank and Ned brought up in back to see that the rear end was kept clear. Occasionally they assisted in swinging the ladder around a short turn.

"This is easier than I thought it was going to be," remarked Bart. "We haven't had a bit of trouble yet."

"You're not out of the woods," called Fenn, repeating Bart's words of the day before.

They had reached a little clearing in the forest, and, as there was a good trail, the donkey increased his speed. Suddenly there came a smart shower, and the little deluge must have frightened the beast. For, as soon as the drops began to patter down on his back harder than usual, the donkey lifted up its heels, kicked the rear end of the ladder to one side, and began to run, braying loudly.

"After him!" cried Bart. "He'll smash the ladder!"

The boys started off after the animal but they were at considerable disadvantage. Bart had let go of the strap by which he was leading the donkey, and Fenn, who was also in front, had jumped to one side as he heard the beast break into a run. So the steed passed both of them. As for Frank and Ned, in the rear, they could not get ahead of the donkey because of the long ladder sticking out behind and swaying to and fro. By this time the animal was some distance in advance, running along one of the wider trails that led through the wood.

"We must catch him!" cried Frank. "He'll smash the ladder and we'll be in a fix then!"

The donkey seemed to be enjoying the sport. Faster and faster he ran, braying at the top of his voice. The ladder knocked against the tree trunks, sometimes throwing the animal to one side but this did not stop him."

"Cut ahead through the woods and try to catch him!" cried Ned to Bart, who was a little in advance.

Bart did so. He saw, through the trees, where the trail turned, and gliding between the bushes, he reached the path ahead of the donkey that was coming down it full speed. Bart braced his feet apart and stood ready to grab the beast.

But he reckoned without the ladder, which had become loose from the fastenings and was now resting evenly on the donkey's back, sticking straight out ahead like a long spear. It was this double-pointed lance that was aimed at Bart, and the donkey's head was fifteen feet back of it. Bart saw that he could not grasp the bridle.

Right at him came the donkey, braying as though in glee at the trick he had played. To avoid being impaled on the ladder ends Bart had to jump to one side. Standing in the bushes that were along the trail, he reached forward and tried to grasp the swaying halter rope that was fastened to the donkey's head. But the beast avoided him and ran on.

"Grab the end of the ladder and hold him!" shouted Bart to Ned, who was still in the rear.

Ned and Frank both tried. They managed to catch hold of the swaying end nearest them, but the donkey had more strength than they supposed. They were dragged along through the mud, and water, and then, as the animal turned suddenly, they were flung to one side.

"There he goes," exclaimed Ned ruefully as the animal disappeared around the bend. Bart and Fenn took after him.

"Come on; we've got to catch him!" cried Frank, and he and Ned set off after their companions.

All at once there arose a shouting from the boys in the lead. Then sounded a crash in the bushes. It was followed by a series of discordant brays from the donkey.

"Something has happened!" cried Frank. "Hurry up!"

Something had happened, sure enough. The donkey had caught himself. For, in trying to pass between two saplings, the ladder had slewed cross-ways and had brought the beast up with a round turn. Surprised and, perhaps somewhat indignant at the sudden stopping of his run, the donkey struggled on. The ladder slipped up the small trunks of the saplings and they began to bend.

"He'll break 'em off and escape again!" cried Ned. "Grab him Bart!"

Further and further over bent the two saplings. The ladder was sliding up them. Then the donkey slipped. He lost his foot-hold in the mud and the next instant a curious thing happened.

The saplings, being no longer strained forward by the animal, sprang upward. The ladder began to slip back. It went until it caught on some branches of either small tree and there it stayed, But the donkey was fairly lifted from his feet, for the ladder was still fastened to his back, and there he hung, his hoofs threshing about and his brays coming quickly in indignant protest at the treatment accorded him.

"That settles Mr. Donkey!" cried Bart, as, laughing loudly, he grabbed the halter rope. The other boys came up, filled with merriment over the plight of the beast that had thus trapped himself. They cut the branches that held the ladder and the donkey came back to earth. He did not try to run away, and seemed so much ashamed of what had happened that he stopped braying. Then, the ladder having been fastened in the proper position, the boys took up their journey. The rain was falling steadily.



CHAPTER XXVIII

THE RESCUE

Without further mishap they went on through the woods and reached the edge of the asylum grounds. There seemed to be no one moving about the place, not even a uniformed attendant. Frank looked at the institution where his father was a prisoner and thought of how much he must have suffered there.

"Here's a good place for the ladder," said Bart, pointing to a little ditch through which ran a small stream of water. "No one would ever think of looking there for it."

"If only the donkey doesn't bray now, and give the alarm," said Fenn.

"I know how to prevent him," remarked Ned.

"How?"

"Fasten his tail down."

The other boys laughed at Ned, but he got a piece of rope used to tie the ladder on the donkey's back, and attached it to the beast's tail. Then he put a stone on the rope. Whether this caused it or not the boys could not tell, but the donkey did not bray after that.

"I think we'd better make a little change in our plans," suggested Frank. "We were going to stay here until night, at least you three were. Now I think we had all better go back to camp and take the donkey with us. We have time enough, and it will be tiresome waiting here until dark. I've got to go back to get the canoe. You had better come along. We'll have something to eat and we can leave the donkey at the tent.

"When we have rescued my father you boys can wait until it's light enough to follow the telephone line back to camp. In the meanwhile I'll go on with him in the canoe."

"What about the ladder?" asked Ned.

"We'll hide it in the woods," said Frank. "We'll not try to take it back to Mr. Armstrong, but I'll pay him for it. I think it would be too risky to come back for it. If we get my father away from there they'll be sure to be on the lookout for hours afterward, and we can't always depend on the donkey not braying. Besides, it's a lot of work and risk, and it's better to pay for the ladder and leave it here. It's worth it to me."

The other boys thought this plan a good one. Accordingly, after the ladder had been put in the ditch, the boys started back for camp, taking the donkey with them. The animal seemed to have lost all desire to play any tricks.

The rain had stopped when the chums got back to their tent, and they made a fire to dry themselves out a bit. The donkey was tethered so he could go under the shelter canvas in case of more showers, that still threatened, and the boys, after getting themselves something to eat, and feeding the animal, prepared to start again for the sanitarium.

Frank got into the canoe, and, with a wave of his hand paddled off, calling to his chums that he would meet them about dusk at the ditch where the ladder was hidden.

It was now well on into the afternoon. The three chums, discussing the probable outcome of the affair, walked on through the woods. They carried light lunches with them, and some flasks of cold coffee, for they would not be back at camp again until time for a late breakfast. Frank also took some food with him in the boat.

The three boys found Frank waiting for them at the ditch, at which they arrived at dark. It was raining again, harder than before, but they managed to find a clump of trees with thick leaves that served as a partial shelter.

"Did you have any trouble getting here with the boat?" asked Ned of Frank.

"None at all. I came faster than I ever had before, as the water was high from the rain. The current is swift, and that will make it hard going back."

"Maybe one of us could go with you," suggested Bart. "The canoe will hold three on a pinch."

"I think it would be a good plan," Frank replied.

"Then I'll go," Bart went on. The other boys did not dispute his right, as he was the best paddler.

It seemed that the time would never come for the attempt to be made. In the darkness and rain the boys waited, for Frank had said it would not be safe to try until ten o'clock. At that hour the night watch went on, and the sanitarium was more quiet.

"Let's get the ladder out and lay it along the edge of the grass plot," suggested Ned. "No one can see us, and it will be something to do."

They followed this advice, and the ladder was placed in readiness at the edge of the asylum grounds. Once more they resumed their waiting. How the rain pelted down! The wind too, had increased, and it blew through the trees with a mournful sound. It was dark and chilly in the woods, and, in spite of their raincoats, the boys were anything but comfortable. It seemed as though ten o'clock would never come.

Frank had a small pocket electric light with him, run by a dry battery, and, by pressing a button, a faint glow could be had. By means of this the boys frequently glanced at their watches.

"I'm not going to look again until I think it's ten o'clock," declared Frank. But he could not resist, and, after waiting what seemed like an hour he glanced at the time-piece again. It was half-past nine.

"Half an hour more," he announced. "That will be the longest of all."

It was, but ten o'clock came at last. Cautiously the boys stole from their hiding places. They picked up the ladder and looked toward the asylum building. It was dark, save where a faint light showed through one window, and Frank knew this was in a corridor.

"Do you know which is the window of his room?" asked Ned.

"Yes," replied Frank. "It's the third one from the right hand end of the building, in the second story. The ladder will more than reach, as the windows are low ones."

Foot by foot they advanced, listening every little while, to find out if their approach was noticed. But there was only the wind and rain to be heard.

"Here we are," whispered Frank, as they came to a halt beneath the window of room twenty-eight. "Now help me raise the ladder."

Four pair of sturdy young arms soon accomplished this, though it was hard work. While the three boys steadied the ladder at the bottom, Frank went up it. He held some pebbles in his hand and, when he could safely throw them at the glass he did so, making the signal agreed upon with his father. The little stones made more noise than he supposed they would, but he hoped no one but Mr. Roscoe would hear them. Frank, standing on the ladder under the window waited anxiously.

Suddenly the window sash, to the left of the one where he thought his father was, went up softly. A head was thrust out.

"I wonder if I have made a mistake," Frank thought. The next instant he heard a voice calling to him.

"They have taken the king of the cannibal islands away!"

Frank recognized the voice as that of the insane man who had caused a disturbance the first night he was on duty.

"Where have they taken him?" asked Frank, and he hoped the man could answer rationally.

"They have taken him away," the man went on. "I know! I'm crazy but I know. The cannibals have taken the king away. Ha! Ha! A good joke!"

He was speaking and laughing in low tones.

"I have come to rescue him. He is my father! Can't you tell me where he is?" pleaded Frank.

"Good boy! Rescue father," whispered the lunatic. "I know. My head is a barrel, and if I came down the ladder I would fall. I don't want to be rescued. I own this place. But number twenty-eight. Yes, he ought to go. He's all right. They give him bad stuff to eat. I'm a barrel, but I own this place. It's barreled up inside of me. This side up with care! C. O. D. you know. Pay all charges. Ha! Ha! Good joke! They took the king away."

"But where?" persisted Frank. Was his plan to fail? Had the asylum authorities found out about it and removed his father?

"What's the matter?" called Bart from below.

"Think!" whispered Frank to the lunatic. "Tell me where he is! I want to take him away!"

"That's right! Take him away. This is no place for him. This is a place for barrels. Listen," and the man leaned far out of the window. "He's on the north side, in a room just like the one he was in, only on the top floor. I know! They tried to fool me but I hid in a barrel and I found out. It was a barrel with the hoops off, and I saw them take the king of the cannibal islands away. It's a great joke! I'm a barrel!"

"Is it on the other side?" asked Frank, wanting to be sure.

But the lunatic had shut his window. It was all black and dark again, and the rain and the wind seemed a fitting accompaniment for the sorrow that was in Frank's heart. He came down the ladder.

"What's the matter?" asked his chums, and he told them.

"Let's try the other side. Try the third window from the end, on the top floor," suggested Ned. "It can't do any harm. Maybe the crazy man spoke the truth. Sometimes they do."

"It's worth trying, anyhow," said Bart, and, though Frank did not have much hope, he agreed with his chums.

The ladder was carried around the building, As the boys looked up they saw all the windows were in darkness save one. That one was in the top row, and was the third from the end.

"It's against the rules for any of the patients to have a light in their rooms after nine o'clock," remarked Frank. "I wonder what that means?"

"Perhaps your father placed it there for a signal," suggested Fenn.

"I'm going to see!" exclaimed Frank.

Silently the boys raised the ladder to the casement. It was a little too short, but a person stepping from the window and hanging on the sill with both hands could just reach the topmost rung. Frank went up. He threw the signal stones at the glass. They rattled like hail. The next instant the sash went up. A head was stuck out.

"Is that you, Frank?" a voice whispered.

"Yes, father! Can you come down?"

"Right away. Is everything safe?"

"Everything. Be careful, you will have to make a long step."

"I can do it. I have done more difficult things than this on my travels."

Frank's heart beat high with hope, for he knew from the sound of his father's voice that the prisoner was sane.

Cautiously Mr. Roscoe crawled from the window. He hung by his hands until his feet touched the top rung of the ladder. Then, with Frank preceding him, he went down and was soon on the ground.

"These are my chums, father," said Frank.

"I can't tell how I thank you for getting me from that terrible place," said Mr. Roscoe. "But we must hurry away. The guard will make his rounds soon, and if he sees my room empty the alarm will be given."

"Come, boys," exclaimed Bart. "Hide the ladder."

They carried it through the rain back to the ditch and placed it away. Then Frank and Bart led Mr. Roscoe through the woods to the foot of the cliff where the boat was fastened. Ned and Fenn took their positions under the tree-shelter to wait for morning, when they could start back for camp.

"All aboard!" called Frank, as he helped Mr. Roscoe into the canoe.

At that instant the bell of the institution began to ring.

"What's that?" cried Frank.

"The alarm!" exclaimed Mr. Roscoe. "They have discovered my escape."

"Paddle! Paddle!" cried Frank, dipping his blade into the water.



CHAPTER XXIX

THE CURE—CONCLUSION

The canoe, loaded down as it was, answered to the strokes of the sturdy arms of the boys. It shot forward, breasting the current, and was soon well away from the cliff.

"They'll never catch us now," Frank said. "They'll not think of looking toward the river. We're safe."

And so it would seem, for they heard no sound of pursuit. Afterwards Ned and Frank told their chums that the guards scoured the woods, but did not come upon those in hiding, nor did they find the ladder. It was well that the donkey had been taken back to camp.

Through the storm and the darkness the two boys paddled. It was hard work, but they gritted their teeth and would not give up. The rain had made the river, below the falls, higher, and the current was swift. They carried the boat around the cataract and led Mr. Roscoe through the woods. Frank offered his father food, but the rescued man said he had eaten at the sanitarium a little while before.

"I was afraid you would never find me after they changed my room," he said.

Frank told his father about the man in twenty-seven.

"He was a good friend of mine," Mr. Roscoe said. "A harmless man, though his mind was gone."

They reached the camp about two o'clock in the morning. In a little while Frank had several lanterns lighted and was starting a fire in the portable stove. The donkey was still under the canvas shelter, and Frank, going for some wood, saw the stone still tied to the tail of the beast.

"I guess you'll not bray now," he remarked as he cut the rope. The next instant the animal lifted up its tail and sent forth a loud note. It seemed as though he had been saving it up for many hours. The woods rang with it.

Immediately after it, and before the echoes had ceased reverberating, there came a cry of terror from the tent where Mr. Roscoe was with Bart. Frank recognized his father's voice.

"Save me! Save me!" cried the unfortunate man. "The cannibals are coming! They will kill me! Take me away! Hide me!"

Frank sprang toward the tent. Looking in he saw his father crouched under one of the cots, with Bart standing, badly frightened in a far corner. In the eyes of Mr. Roscoe was the gleam of insanity.

"Father! Father!" cried Frank in great anguish. "Don't you know me? I'm your son! I rescued you from the sanitarium!"

"I have no son! I am all alone in the world! I don't know you!" and the poor man tried to crawl further under the cot.

"Oh, what shall I do?" cried Frank.

Outside the rain came down harder than ever and the wind swayed the frail tent. Once more the donkey brayed.

"There they are! There they are!" cried Mr. Roscoe. "They are going to kill me!"

It was the cry of the beast that had sent his frail mind once more into the channel of insanity.

"Oh, what are we to do?" cried Frank again. "Perhaps he is really insane and I have made a mistake in taking him out of that institution."

"It wasn't your fault," declared Bart "Any one would have done the same. Perhaps it will pass over. He isn't violent."

Though they were much frightened, the two boys tried to coax Mr. Roscoe out from under the cot, but he would not come. At Frank's suggestion, Bart again tied the stone to the donkey's tail, to prevent the braying. Then they sat and waited for daylight and the arrival of their chums. The hours were long and full of terror. They did not know what to do. They could only wait for morning, and when that came they did not know that they would be any better off.

The rain stopped. Then a pale light began to diffuse among the trees. It grew stronger. Mr. Roscoe was quieter now, and came from under the cot. Frank persuaded him to lie down, and in a little while his father was asleep.

An hour later Fenn and Ned came in.

"Did you get here all right?" asked Ned, eagerly, but a sight of Frank's sad face sobered him. The two boys were told what had happened.

"I don't know what to do," Bart admitted as he and his two chums went outside, leaving Frank with his father.

"I've got an idea!" exclaimed Fenn eagerly. "I saw by that paper which Frank dropped, that Dr. Robertson was spending a few days at Forest Villa. That's the next place to Mr. Armstrong's house."

"Who is Dr. Robertson?" asked Ned.

"Why he's a great specialist on diseases of the brain. Why not go to him, and ask him to come and see Frank's father? I'm sure he would if we told him all the facts."

"Say!" cried Bart. "That's a fine idea! Hurry off and see if the doctor will come. If he wants pay we can give it to him."

But Dr. Robertson did not want any fee, when Fenn had breathlessly explained the circumstances to him. He questioned the boy closely, and then, taking his medicine case with him, set out through the woods. He was on his vacation, he explained, but he never missed a chance to study or treat a brain disease, and he was very much interested in Mr. Roscoe's case.

Dr. Robertson sent all the boys out of the tent, and told them to stay away while he examined the patient. How anxiously they waited for the verdict, Frank most of all! Was the case a hopeless one? At last the doctor came out. He was smiling, and the boys took that as a good sign.

"You can come in, boys," he said.

"Is he—can you—will he—" stammered Frank.

"He will get well, if that's what you mean," said Dr. Robertson. "He is much better now. The fact is," he went on, "his fits of insanity were only temporary, and they were caused by a drug, which was administered to him in his food. He ate something at the sanitarium just before you rescued him, and this last time the drug began to work as soon as he heard that donkey bray. The fit has passed now, and if he doesn't get any more of the drugged food he will probably have no more insane spells."

"Oh, I'm so glad!" cried Frank, sinking on his knees at the side of the cot on which his father lay.

Mr. Roscoe opened his eyes.

"Frank! My boy!" he murmured. Then he dozed off again.

The doctor stayed at the tent until noon, and left some medicine, saying he would call again in the evening. Soon after the medical man had left Mr. Roscoe awakened. He declared he was much better, and in talking of his case he said he noticed that the strange spells came over him soon after he had eaten something. At other times he was as clear-headed as he had ever been.

In a few days, under the treatment of Dr. Robertson, Mr. Roscoe had fully recovered. It was thought best to keep him at the camp for a few days, as the rest would do him good.

"Then you'll come away with me and we'll make a home for ourselves," said Frank.

"Why not stay with your Uncle Abner?" asked Mr. Roscoe.

Frank told of his suspicions, that his uncle was in the plot with the men who held Mr. Roscoe a prisoner.

"No, you're wrong," said Frank's father. "Your uncle was deceived by the men. I understand it all now. He thought I really was insane, and he was doing what he imagined was right to keep me in the sanitarium. He was trying to hold the property for you. Those men fooled him, but now we will get the best of them."

Mr. Roscoe's theory proved correct, when a little later the boys broke camp and went home. Mr. Dent was much surprised when told the facts in the case, and confirmed what Frank's father had said. The property was gotten away from the men, and the plotters had to flee to escape arrest. Dr. Hardman was among them, and his sanitarium was taken in charge by the authorities, for he had many persons there who were really insane.

"And so that was Frank's secret," remarked Bart, one afternoon as the four chums were talking together over the strange case. "I would never have suspected it."

"I hardly believed it myself, at times," said Frank.

"Well, we had some fun with the donkey, anyhow," put in Ned. "That was about the only comic happening during our camping."

"I guess we've had enough of adventures to last for several vacations," spoke Frank. "I'm willing to settle down to a quiet life."

But a quiet life was not in store for the four boys, and why will be related in another volume, to be called "Fenn Masterson's Discovery." In that tale we shall learn the particulars of an interesting voyage on the Great Lakes, and the particulars of a revelation which came to Stumpy when he least expected it.

"Frank, I suppose you are happy now you have your father with you," said Bart one day.

"Happy?" repeated Frank, with a little lump in his throat. "I am more than happy. Why, I feel as if the whole world was nothing but pure sunshine!"

"Well, we all rejoice with you," came from Ned.

"Indeed we do!" added Fenn.

THE END