"You'll let me help you," pleaded Walter.

"Certainly. That is why I came out. I want you to feed the dogs and learn their names. In order to get on with them you must get acquainted with them and understand the peculiarities of each one. They are just persons, you know, and have their little whims and queernesses. But kindness will win them to you very quickly. It is far better than a whip. So is feeding. A dog usually obeys the person who feeds him. He is afraid not to."

As she spoke she entered the wired enclosure and putting the smaller dogs in half of it and shutting the wicket gate upon them she told the men to slip the leashes from the collars of the others. In a second the Belgian, Airedales, and the fluffy Sealyham were bounding about her. Then she beckoned to Walter.

"This is Achilles," went on she, with her hand on the head of the great monster. "He is as gentle and kind as a kitten, although he does look as if he could swallow us alive. Don't touch him but stand still and let him sniff you all over. It is his way of getting acquainted."

Obediently the boy remained motionless while the panting jaws and moist black nose of the dog came nearer. He could feel the creature's hot breath on his hands, face, and hair. Then over his clothing moved the quivering nostrils. At length the brown eyes met his and he whispered softly:

"Achilles!"

The dog wagged his tail.

"You have nothing to fear from him now," announced Mrs. Crowninshield. "The Airedales are Jack Horner and Boy Blue. And the Sealyham, Miss Nancy's dog, is called Rags."

Sensing that he was being talked about, the dog blinked with friendly eyes at Walter through its mop of coarse white hair.

"In the other pen," continued Mrs. Crowninshield, "are the Pekingese pups and I shall expect you to take the best of care of them. They are sensitive little creatures and very valuable. I myself, however, care very little for the money value of a dog. It is the lovable traits it has that interest me. I should adore wee Lola, here, if she were not worth a cent. But Mr. Crowninshield likes to own blue ribbon dogs and enter them at the shows and therefore I will caution you that Lola, Mimi, and Fifi," as she spoke she pointed out the dogs in question, "cost quite a fortune and their loss or illness would be a great calamity. So you must follow the directions concerning them most carefully. And should any question arise about them come at once to me."

As she spoke she occasionally glanced at the boy beside her with a quick, bright smile.

"I shall have the menu for each dog sent you every day—at least for the present—together with directions as to how to prepare the meal as it should be prepared. The meat for the small dogs must be put through a meat chopper and no gristle allowed to get into it; the larger dogs can have bigger pieces, and Achilles a bone. You will find in the room inside an ice chest in which to keep such foods as spoil. There are also glassed-in shelves where tins of various kinds of dog bread and puppy biscuit will be stored that they may be out of the dampness. You are not to trouble the servants at the big house for anything. They do not like to be interfered with. All your supplies will be here, and you can warm whatever it is necessary to heat on your small electric stove. Be sure to scald out the dishes after they have been used; and also never forget to keep the bowls filled with plenty of fresh water."

"I will, ma'am."

"I am sure you will," returned Mrs. Crowninshield kindly. "And do not worry if it takes a little time to win all the dogs over to your authority. Dogs are like children when they change masters. They will try to play it on you at first. Just be firm with them and soon you will have them tagging at your heels, docile as lambs."

The task of preparing the food was soon completed and the mistress looked on and encouraged while Walter doled it out to the famished animals.

How daintily the wee dogs coquetted with what was given them! And how greedily the larger ones gobbled down their allowance and lapped the plate for more! Achilles, crouched on the lawn with his bone, crunched it with terrifying zeal, cracking the big joint between his jaws as if it were made of paper. His dinner devoured he ambled over toward Walter, once more sniffed his shoes and clothing, at last nestled his moist nose against the boy's hand.

"I think you have won Achilles to your colors already," said Mrs. Crowninshield.

"He does seem friendly," returned His Highness, more pleased by the dog's good will than he would have been willing to own.

"Achilles can be very friendly when he chooses," retorted his owner. "He can also be quite the reverse. You should see him sometime when he is on the scent of a foe. Last summer when a man broke into the boathouse it transformed Achilles into a lion. I was certain he would kill the fellow; as it was he mauled him badly before we could coax him off. The thief almost died of fright and I do not wonder. He did not need any further punishment."

She unfastened the gate to go back to the house.

Immediately there was a rush.

"No, you can't come, not one of you," declared she, addressing the yelping pack through the netting. "I have far too much to do to be bothered with any of you. Be good and take a nap. You're tired enough to rest."

Still the animals barked, rebellious at their captivity.

"When I am out of sight you can let Achilles out," called she, as she moved away. "He can be trusted to roam the place and always does when we're here. The Airedales and the Sealyham can also run about alone as soon as they get used to obeying you. But the little dogs must never be let off the leash unless they are watched every instant, for something might happen to them."

"I'll be careful."

"That's right; do."

The woman gave him a pleasant nod of farewell and walked with springing step back in the direction of the house. As she went Walter saw her halt and speak to old Tim, who was at work in the rose garden, and beheld the gardener leap proudly forward to cut for her a blossom she had evidently admired.

It was even as Jerry had said. She was the idol of Surfside.

After she had disappeared he opened the wicket and stepped out, letting Achilles follow him.

Instantly the great creature put his nose to the ground and with a joyous bark he was gone in search of his mistress.

It was now or never with the new master of the hounds.

The lad whistled but the dog did not turn. Again he gave a quick call. This time the rushing beast paused, looked round, and then slackening his pace, continued to jog along on his way.

Helplessly the boy saw him go farther and farther out of reach.

He must compel obedience somehow.

"Achilles!" shouted he sternly. "Achilles! Back, sir!"

Although he uttered the words he had not the slightest faith they would have any effect and was amazed to see the dog waver in his tracks.

"Achilles, come here!" repeated he sharply.

With reluctance the dog turned and looked at him.

"Here, sir!" called Walter, with coaxing cadence.

The dog continued to regard him intently but he did not move. Then suddenly there was a rush and with panting jaws widespread the Belgian came bounding toward him. It was not until he was close at hand that he abated his speed. Then he came to the side of his new master and gently laid his cold nose on his sleeve.

Walter patted the great head affectionately.

The battle was won. He had conquered Achilles.



CHAPTER VI

HIS HIGHNESS IN A NEW ROLE

Before a week had passed the strangeness of living at Surfside had to a certain extent abated and Walter found himself not only content in his new position but enjoying it. He rose early, feeding the dogs, exercising them, and making fresh their quarters before he breakfasted himself. Afterward, despite the score of odd duties with which the morning was filled, he contrived to do many little kindnesses for Jerry, Tim, Wheeler, and the other men. He was always willing to do a favor and amid an atmosphere where generosity was rare the virtue of aiding others rendered him immensely popular.

In the meantime he had made such headway in the affections of Achilles that the big Belgian not only tagged at his heels everywhere he went, but at night insisted upon extending his giant frame before the boy's doorsill from which vantage ground neither threats nor persuasions could stir him. In consequence the lonely hours the lad might have experienced were put to rout by the companionship of this silent comrade.

The Airedales, on the other hand, were less successfully won over to a new allegiance. Although Richard, who owned them, took not the smallest care of them and serenely passed them over to some one else to be ministered unto, nevertheless they apparently sensed the arrangement was one of convenience and returned scant gratitude for what was done for them. They were polite, tolerant, but never whole-heartedly cordial. Dick was their master and they would have no other.

Fortunately Miss Nancy's Sealyham, Rags, was more responsive; nevertheless, although she frolicked about Walter's feet and accepted food from his hand it was more because she loved to play and was hungry than because her affection for the boy went very deep.

As for the troupe of Pekingese, with aristocratic noses tilted high in air, they submitted to being washed, brushed, and fed by Walter much as they would have accepted the services of any other maid or valet. They seemed to be conscious of their pedigree and claim attention as their right. An occasional wag of the tail or the rare passage of a rough little tongue across one's hand was all the gratitude His Highness ever received from them.

With the Crowninshield family, however, the boy made better progress and as he and Dick became acquainted many a pleasant hour did they spend together. Not infrequently, when the eager yelps of the dogs heralded the fact that they were off for their afternoon run, the New York lad would join the party and while the animals raced this way and that the two boys would discuss boats, fishing, and kindred interests.



"Do you happen to know anything about wireless?" inquired Richard one day when, with Achilles prancing far ahead and Boy Blue, Jack Horner, and Rags dashing to keep up with him, the group strode along the beach.

"I ought to," was Walter's smiling response. "I've a brother who is an operator at the Seaver Bay station."

"No! Really?" The exclamations voiced both surprise and admiration. "How old is he?"

"Twenty-two or three."

"Gee! And he can really send and receive messages?"

"He sure can."

"How did he learn?"

"Oh, he first got interested in wireless through the papers and picked up quite a lot of information that way. Later he and his chum Billy Hicks bought a manual and with the help of the physics teacher at the High School they rigged up a homemade receiving apparatus on Billy's grandfather's barn. For a while it wouldn't work for a cent, although they tinkered with it night and day. Then one evening they did something to it and caught their first message. You should have seen Bob! He was crazy and came rushing straight home to make Ma drop everything she was doing and go down to Hicks's. Now Mother was elbow-deep in bread and declared she couldn't spoil her biscuit for any wireless on earth. Besides, she had never had any faith in the thing. You see, Bob had teased her for wireless money and she had told him time and time again it was dollars thrown into a hole. My father used to joke her about not having a scientific mind and I guess she hasn't one. At any rate, whenever Bob would read her the wonderful things being done with wireless, all she would say was that it wasn't likely folks could send speeches and music loose through the air. Those who pretended to hear them were either fibbing or were genuinely mistaken. So when Bob did get a broadcast you can imagine how wild he was to convince her it wasn't all bluff."

"And did he?" asked Dick with interest.

"Well, after a fashion," replied Walter, smiling at some amusing memory.

"Like enough I shouldn't have known much about it, either, if Bob had not told me," continued Walter. "Bob, however, talked nothing else morning, noon, and night. Often I would drop asleep while he was chattering of induction coils, wave lengths, and antenna. It makes me yawn now to think of it. My goodness, weren't Ma and I sick to death of hearing nothing but radio! Bob would rush into the house at mealtime, swallow his food whole, and tear off to Hicks's with a piece of pie in his hand, leaving all the chores to me. I got pretty sore, I can tell you." He gave a short laugh.

"Between Mother begrudging the poor chap every cent he spent for batteries and wire, and me pitching into him for forgetting to chop the kindlings, I'm afraid his early wireless career wasn't a very pleasant one."

Once more the lad laughed, this time with comic ruefulness.

"Even when the apparatus actually did begin to work and Bob and Billy were able to get a concert or lecture now and then, Ma insisted they were bluffing her. She listened in but wasn't convinced, declaring they had fastened a victrola to the receivers and that such sounds never could come through the air. Finally they did succeed in getting her to half believe they were telling her the truth and were not just working her for money. But when they tried to explain the outfit to her in detail, she put her hands over her ears, protesting that they were wasting their breath to tell her of damped and undamped waves, detectors, and generators. With that they gave up further attempts to educate her."

Both boys chuckled.

"But she must be proud of your brother now," asserted Dick.

"Oh, she is—tremendously, although what she chiefly thinks about is the danger Bob is in of getting struck by lightning or electrocuted."

Achilles, who had been pursuing some sandpipers along the rim of the surf and sent them circling into the air, now raced back to his friends with a sharp bark of salutation and Dick bent to pat the shaggy head.

"So really," reflected he, "your brother taught himself wireless."

"Not wholly. He simply laid a foundation," the other boy explained. "He could never have taken a job on what he had picked up because, you see, he knew nothing of sending messages, was ignorant of all the rules an operator has to have at his tongue's end, and had no very thorough knowledge of electricity. It was not like a complete training, by any means. The war gave him that. When it broke out he enlisted in the navy, and because he was partially equipped in radio they sent him off posthaste to a wireless school. At the time he was crazy because his dream was to get across and be in the fighting. To sit at home studying was the last thing he wanted to do. Later, though, when he began to see what a big part wireless was playing in the scrimmage, he commenced to be more resigned to his lot. Besides he got his chance before long, for he worked into being a crackerjack at speed and passed his exams so well that he had no trouble in winning his first-class operator's certificate.

"There are grades of radio men, you know, just as there are grades of everything else. There are the sharks, or first-class chaps, who are able to pass every sort of test on the adjustment of apparatus and how to use it; who can both send and receive messages at the rate of at least twenty words a minute, and who can often go much faster; and who have all the rules governing the exchange of radio messages stowed away in their heads. They are the A1 men and every first-class ship is obliged by law to have aboard it two of them. Then there are the second-class certificate fellows who practically have as much radio but cannot hit such a gait, and can only manage to send between twelve and nineteen words a minute. They can go on first-class ships provided more skilled operators are aboard. Sometimes, even, they substitute for them under supervision. Their chief jobs, however, are on ships that use wireless only for their personal benefit; that is, to talk with their own crews. Often a fishing fleet, for instance, will carry a man of this class to communicate with its other vessels. They can talk, too, with shore stations when it is necessary. But the law does not allow them to take positions where there is a great rush of business and general responsibility. They must have the topnotchers for such work."

"I had no idea there were so many rules about radio," mused Dick.

"There are—strict ones, too," replied his companion. "Moreover, the government keeps tabs on all radio people to see they obey the rules. Every wireless man is examined, classified, and given a license just as an automobile driver is. He has to keep it handy, too, and be ready to trot it out on request. You can't get by with bluffing. If an operator is found to be unfamiliar with the rules, or is discovered breaking any of them, his certificate can be withdrawn. No chap wants to risk that, especially if he is trying to earn his living by wireless. And if a ship, and not its radio operator, is found to be breaking the rules, the coastal stations may be notified not to have anything to do with her. In other words she is boycotted and the land operators told neither to receive her messages nor answer them."

"That would be some boycott!"

"The shipboard radio stations, you see, come under the authority of the commanding officer of the ship. It has to be so, because in case of accident he would be the person responsible for sending out distress calls and answering them. The radio man couldn't just grab the power. There has to be one boss of every job."

"I can see that," nodded Dick. "But why such a network of other rules?"

"There have to be. It all has to be charted in black and white or there would be terrible mix-ups."

"And do foreign ships have to fall into line and do as our ships do when they come here?"

"They are expected to, Bob said," answered Walter. "In case they do not, however, they cannot be meddled with by underlings. Instead they are immediately reported to the government and the two countries involved settle their dispute by arbitration. It is too delicate a matter for others to butt in on, for some blunderer might offend another country and get us into war just through being stupid. Conversely, when our ships are in foreign waters they must keep the naval rules of the nation they are visiting."

"That's fair."

"It sure is," agreed Walter. "Besides that, all the shipboard radio stations have to carry with them their license to prove that they are authorized by their countries to operate a wireless outfit, and that they fulfil the requirements of the government whose flag they fly. Should any trouble arise when they are in a foreign port they can be asked to produce this license; and if the foreign authorities whom they are visiting have reason to suspect they are not meeting the standards the license demands they can complain to the government that is responsible for the ship."

"But suppose the government didn't know anything about such a ship?"

"Great Scott! But it does, man," ejaculated Walter. "There are lists that contain not only the name and nationality of all ships but even the names and addresses of its radio operators. There is no getting by that."

"So the ships themselves are not allowed to take up their own quarrel if they are challenged?" commented Dick.

"No. They simply have to stay perfectly polite and keep their mouths shut, no matter how mad they are," grinned His Highness. "Otherwise there would be squabbles all the time, for there are always misunderstandings and grudges, and people who enjoy picking on one another. All the ships would be fighting and the countries that owned them, too, if everybody rolled up his sleeves and pitched into the other fellow when things went wrong. Governments are supposed to be more slow-moving, fair, and impartial. And anyhow, it is their job to look out for their own citizens and see they are squarely treated. Bob says it is a more dignified way than for individuals to fight out their own quarrels. It certainly carries more weight. Nobody is going to bully a ship and make trouble for its crew if a big nation stands behind it. It serves as a check on the men, too, Bob told me, for when they are in other countries and have shore leave they have to remember that they must behave themselves and not disgrace their governments."

"You can't sail out of reach of Uncle Sam, eh? Apparently he knows in a general way just how you are conducting yourself all the time," smiled Dick.

"That's about it," acquiesced Walter.

Whistling to the dogs, they turned about.

"What a pile you know about all this," Dick presently observed.

"Shucks! No, I don't," blushed His Highness. "I am only repeating what Bob spieled off to me. He likes to talk when he's home and I like to listen. It's interesting—at least I think so. Besides, I'm proud of Bob knowing such a lot. I wish I did."

The lad dug his heel into the moist sand and watched the hole fill with water.

"Somehow I'm an awful boob at books," he suddenly confessed. "I hate so to study that Ma fairly has to haul me along by the hair or I'd never go to school. I barely skinned through this year. Up to the very last minute we all had cold chills for fear I wouldn't."

Dick shot the offender a sympathetic glance.

"I don't like reading about things myself so well as doing them," he confided. "I'm crazy about machinery. It's fun to tinker with it—take it to pieces and put it together again. I like nothing better than to overhaul an engine."

He held up two grease-stained hands.

"It horrifies my mother," he continued, "but my father doesn't seem to mind if I am all black with oil from my car or the motor boats. What I want now is a wireless outfit. I'm going to strike Dad for one my birthday. It comes the last of this month and he might as well give me that as anything else. Do you suppose if he got it we could rig it up together?"

Walter's eyes opened at the casualness of the observation.

In his family a birthday was an occasion for a chocolate cake, some neckties, and perhaps a pair of rubber boots or a similar useful gift. Or it sometimes brought with it a book and a box of candy. Never by any chance did its felicitations expand into a gift so colossal as a wireless apparatus. The breach between the two lads, which during the exchange of confidences had narrowed into nothingness, widened abruptly.

"A good set would be some present," he commented, thinking, perhaps, the other boy might be ignorant of its value.

"Oh, I guess it would not break Dad," smiled Dick serenely. "He gave me my car last year, and the year before—let me think—oh, the pups!" He pointed to the Airedales, a streak of buff against the green of the distant marsh. "Wireless couldn't cost much more."

"N—o, I don't believe it would," His Highness admitted slowly, the contrast in their financial standards seeping in on him.

"Oh, I imagine I could have a set all right if I said the word," continued Dick, with the indifference of one to whom such presents brought no agitation. "The question is, could we set it up if we had it?"

"I couldn't," came promptly from Walter. "I think, though, that if Bob was home on leave he might help us."

"Your brother? I had forgotten him. So he is at home sometimes?"

"Oh, yes. He gets off for a day now and then."

"It must be a whole lot of a bore to be tied down in a wireless station listening for messages all the time," observed Dick carelessly.

"Operators do not have to sit with their ears glued to the receivers every second, man," declared the village lad. "The men are relieved at regular hours. Besides, all stations both on shore and on shipboard are divided into classes and have their hours carefully mapped out for them. There are three different varieties of shipboard stations, for example. Some have constant service; that is, operators are always listening while the ship is underway. Then there is a second sort where the operator listens in only during specified hours when the office is open for business. A third class has no fixed hours at all, the radio man just listening the first ten minutes of each hour."

"So the men just suit themselves, eh?"

"Suit themselves! You bet they don't," laughed Walter. "The government defines their hours when their license is issued. The class they are put in decides it."

"That's news to me," said Dick. "And the shore stations?"

"The shore stations are a chapter in themselves," Walter replied. "There are several different kinds and each kind has its own rules."

"You don't propose to tell me about them, then," retorted the New Yorker mischievously.

"It's too long a yarn," answered the other. "Besides, I might not get it straight. Sometime, though, if you want me to, I'll pass on what I know. But to-day I guess we ought to be hiking back. It is close onto the time the pack is fed and I may have them yelping at my throat if I don't hurry."

Quickening their pace the boys whistled to the dogs who came dashing through the clumps of bayberry that dotted the field. They were panting with thirst and only too ready to turn homeward. Across the sandy hillocks, through pine-shaded stretches of woods, along the road walled in with June roses they raced and chased, stopping now and again to look back and make certain that their masters were following. When the spit of sand narrowed to a ribbon and the entrance to Surfside was reached they halted, lying down to cool off in the fresh sea breeze until they should be overtaken. At the gate Dick and Walter parted.

It was amusing to see the Airedales waver, then lured by hunger, desert their owner and pursue Walter and Achilles.

They came up with lolling tongues at the kennels just as His Highness was unlocking the door.

While he fumbled with the latch he noticed they sniffed excitedly about and that Achilles barked.

"You're starved, poor old chaps!" remarked he aloud. "Well, no matter. You shall have your dinner right off now."

Coaxing them in he banged the wicket behind him and passed through into the pen where the Pekingese, clamoring for their food, came yelping to meet him.

Instinctively he scanned the fluffy-coated group. Lola was not there.

The discovery, however, caused him no concern for often Mrs. Crowninshield carried the prize-winner up to the big house or took her for a ride in the car. Therefore, although her bright eyes were missing he did not worry, but fed the other dogs and gave them fresh water.

The task completed, he sauntered toward the garage.

How still it was everywhere. With the exception of Dick's racer every car was gone and all the chauffeurs with them. Even Jerry was nowhere about; and the gardeners were far down on the south slope where he could just detect the clip of their shears as they trimmed the privet hedge.

The grounds were as deserted as if the earth had swallowed up every inhabitant. Surfside, deprived of its accustomed hum and bustle, was actually lonely. With uncertain step the boy loitered in the sun, glancing at the expanse of sea and at a knockabout that heeled dangerously in the rising wind. Thinking he might find Jerry and thus banish solitude he meandered up the avenue toward the house.

Jerry, however, was nowhere to be seen but the silence was broken by the siren horns of approaching motors and the Crowninshield cars came rolling in through the broad entrance.

Since he chanced to be on the spot he may as well go up to the veranda, meet the family, and bring Lola back with him to be fed and tucked up for the night.

Accordingly he hurried along and was at the steps almost as soon as the automobiles came to a stop.

Together with a company of laughing guests, Nancy and Mr. and Mrs. Crowninshield alighted.

"Such a beautiful ride as we've had, Dick!" called Mrs. Crowninshield to her son. "We've been over to Harwich and picked up the Davenports, you see, and brought them home for the evening. I think, Mrs. Davenport, you remember my son, Richard. Nancy, take Janet and Marie in with you so they can leave their wraps. You young people will have just about time for a set of tennis before dinner."

The cars had shot away and she was about to go indoors when the mistress of the house espied Walter.

"Did you wish to see me?" she called.

"I thought I'd take Lola down to the kennels."

"Lola! Is she here?"

"I thought you had her."

"No, indeed."

"But she must be here at the house."

"No, she isn't. I never leave her with the maids. She is at the kennels."

"I've just come from there."

"And she wasn't there?"

"No, ma'am."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive!"

"But my dear boy, didn't you leave her there?"

"Yes. But I thought you took her when you went to drive. You have a key."

"I didn't."

"And you did not give the key to any of the maids?"

"Of course not."

"Well, she isn't there," announced Walter, a tremor of trepidation passing over him.

"Nonsense! She must be. Where else could she be?"

"I don't know."

"Oh, you haven't half looked," smiled Mrs. Crowninshield reassuringly. "Lola is such a tiny dog she often gets hidden away out of sight. I'll come and find her for you."

Excusing herself to her guests she followed Walter across the grass and in silence they unfastened the wire gate that led into the enclosure where the Pekingese were kept. But search as they would they failed to discover the missing dog. Lola was gone! Gone!



CHAPTER VII

THE PURSUIT OF LOLA

Yes, Lola was gone; there could be no question about that.

Had not Walter scented trouble he would soon have been made aware of it by the excitement that prevailed in the Peeks' kennels. Every dog of the lot was barking furiously and with gleaming eyes and tail erect striving to communicate tidings of importance. Yet bark as they might, the message they sought to voice remained, alas, untold.

"If they could only speak we should soon know what has happened," bewailed the lad to Mrs. Crowninshield, as for the hundredth time they searched every nook and corner for a clue to the mystery.

"Yes, they know—poor little things," their mistress agreed. "They are trying their best to tell the story, too. I'd give worlds to know what it is."

"And I."

"You are certain you locked everything up when you took the other dogs out."

"Positive. Dick was with me and we both tried the gate before we started."

"Nothing seems to be disturbed."

"No. That is the strange part of it."

Mrs. Crowninshield stopped, hot and breathless from her search.

"I cannot believe but that the mite will turn up. Have you asked Jerry or Tim?"

"They were nowhere about when I got back," Walter replied. "The whole place was still as the grave. I was just going to hunt up Jerry when I saw the cars coming up the avenue."

"Well, I must not delay any longer now," announced Mrs. Crowninshield. "The Davenports will be wondering what has become of me and so will everybody else. Just find Jerry and Tim and quietly make sure they have not taken the dog. In the meantime I will inquire of the maids at the house. We will not, however, make too much talk about it, and send out an alarm until we are certain there is a real tragedy. If I can keep Mr. Crowninshield in ignorance of the matter until our guests have gone I shall be glad. He will be dreadfully upset for he took great pride in his possession of Lola and has declined numberless offers to sell her."

"I know it," groaned Walter. "If it were only one of the other dogs that was missing!"

"The fact that it isn't is what alarms me," returned the woman. "Lola is a quiet little thing and has been petted so much that it would not be like her to run away. Some of the other dogs might but she wouldn't. She is far too timid."

"How could she run away, even if she had a mind to, with the gate locked?"

"I know. That is another ominous fact." Mrs. Crowninshield shook her head. "I'm afraid——"

"What?"

"That she has been stolen."

"Stolen!" gasped Walter. "But how could she with—with everybody around?"

"But you yourself just said that nobody was around."

"Jove! That's true. Still somebody must have been here some time during the afternoon. It is not likely Jerry, Tim, and all the rest were out of hearing all the time I was gone."

"That is what we must find out."

"I'll go and hunt up Jerry now."

"Do. But work quietly; do not make a fuss. It will be time enough to get everybody up in arms when we have to. I dread to think what Mr. Crowninshield will say. He will be furious, simply furious."

With this dubious prediction his wife walked away.

She herself was upset. It was easy enough to see that. She strove, however, to be calm, clinging desperately to the hope that the dog might be discovered in the care of some of the men or maids. She idolized Lola and although she did not admit it, His Highness knew only too well that if it really proved that her pet was gone she, too, would be furious.

"A nice mess!" commented the lad to himself as he hurried across the lawn in search of Jerry. "A nice hole I am in the very first thing! Between them they will tear me to pieces. And Ma—Ma will say, 'I told you so!' That's all the sympathy I'll get from her. She'll have to know, of course, for Mr. Crowninshield will fire me bag and baggage. I must expect that. Jerry as good as told me so when I came. I sha'n't have a chance to defend myself. They will just believe I left the gate of the kennels unlocked when I went out and that Lola made off as fast as her four small feet could carry her. They will either think that, or they will think—" he stopped aghast at the possibility that had taken possession of his mind. "They couldn't think I left it open on purpose for some one to get in and take Lola! They couldn't think that! But suppose Mr. Crowninshield did decide I was an accomplice what proof have I but my word that I wasn't. It does look bad—my being gone and taking Achilles and the other dogs with me. Still, I've done it every day since I've been here. And anyway, they would know I could not entice Jerry and Tim away even if I had wanted to."

The boy took courage.

"No, of course they couldn't think I had anything to do with Lola being gone," he murmured.

By this time he had overtaken Tim and his fellow workers who were still busy clipping the hedge.

"Tim!" he called.

There was no answer but the crisp snip, snip of the shears.

"Tim!"

"Did you call?"

"Yes. You haven't seen Lola, have you?"

"Lola? Indeed I haven't. What would she be doing round here, I'd like to know?"

His Highness struggled to smile.

"Oh, I just thought you might have seen her."

"She's not at the kennels?"

"No."

"Oh, then the mistress took her up to the house. She often does. She is clean daffy over that dog. Give yourself no concern, sonny; the pup is with the master and missis, being shown off to company, most likely."

"Probably she is. So you and the men have been here all the afternoon?"

"That we have. A hot job, the cutting of this hedge."

"It looks fine," declared Walter, turning away.

"It ought to," Tim growled. "Goodness knows it's trouble enough! A privet hedge is the devil to keep even."

Walter, however, did not wait to hear the virtues and vices of privet hedges discussed. He was in too much of a hurry. Furthermore, he had secured the information which he had come to seek. Tim and his host knew nothing of the whereabouts of Lola. Nothing else mattered. In fact, bewildered, anxious, and excited, it seemed at the moment as if nothing else would ever matter again. He must find that dog—he must!

Nevertheless he remembered he must not appear agitated and therefore, instead of racing across the lawn and shouting for Jerry as would have been his inclination, he walked decorously along the path until he came to the boathouse from which door Jerry was at that instant issuing.

"You haven't seen Lola, have you, Jerry?" he asked as indifferently as he could.

"Lola? No. Why?"

"It—it is just her dinner time," stammered the lad, "and I wanted to find her."

"She'll be up at the house, most likely, if she isn't at the kennels," announced Jerry. "There's visitors and Lola will be on deck to see 'em. She's a vain little lady and likes to be shown off."

Walter greeted the remark with a sickly grin.

"What have you been doing?" inquired he idly.

"Me? Why, I was just starting to fix that hasp on the gate to the chicken coop when Minnie came running down from the house to say somebody wanted to speak to me on the telephone. It was a long-distance call and kept me there most half an hour; and what it was all about I don't know now. Some feller I never heard of kept talking and talking, and I couldn't make head nor tail out of anything he said. Finally I told him so and hung up the receiver. I can't imagine who he was. Nobody ever telephones me."

"So you didn't get the hasp fixed on the hen yard."

"I would have hadn't the cook held me up just as I was leaving and wanted I should put a new washer on the kitchen faucet. I saw it needed it the worst way. In fact, I had planned to do it before the folks came and it had slipped my mind. So I tinkered with that and got nothing else done. I'm just after mending a hinge on the boathouse door. A profitless afternoon, I call it."

"So you haven't been back to your diggings since noon."

"Not a once. Why? Did you want me?"

"N—o. Oh, no."

"That's lucky. Apparently everybody else did," concluded Jerry grimly.

So went Walter's quest! Nobody had seen Lola. Nobody knew anything about her. Question as he would, not the faintest trace of the missing dog could be obtained; and when the Davenports rolled down the drive the lad faced the awful moment when his secret must be divulged and the alarm sounded that Lola, the Crowninshields' most valued possession, was missing. Rapidly he turned the prospect of the coming storm over in his mind.

Since the dog had been left in his charge the only manly thing to do, he argued, was to go directly to Mr. Crowninshield and himself acquaint him with the direful tidings. It would be cowardly to shunt this wretched task off on somebody else. It was his duty and his alone. Nevertheless, as he stood for a moment summoning his courage, he would have given all he possessed to escape the interview that awaited him.

He would be scolded, blamed, discharged—that he knew—and he must bear bravely censure for something which he could not feel was his fault. Yet notwithstanding the fact that his conscience exonerated him it made the coming scene no less dreadful to anticipate.

If Bob were only at hand to offer him his advice and sympathy. Bob was such a bully comforter. He never jumped on a man when he was down. Besides, he had a level head and always knew exactly what to do in an emergency. The instant this awful talk with Mr. Crowninshield was over and he was actually "fired" he should call Bob on the telephone and tell him the whole story. He must tell somebody, and Bob would understand better than anyone else just how everything had happened.

In the meantime there was nothing to be gained by further delay.

Pulling himself together, His Highness (a very meek bit of royalty now) dragged himself up the flower-bordered path toward Surfside. As he went it seemed as if every pansy flanking the walk stared out at him and whispered, "Aha, young man! You're in for it now!"

Alas, he did not need to be told that! He knew it only too well. He cleared his throat, wondering how he should begin his confession.

"Mr. Crowninshield, I have some very sad news to impart to you—etc."; or "Mr. Crowninshield, I regret to say a very terrible thing has happened." Such an introduction was easily delivered. It was the next sentence that appalled him. He could not get it off his tongue. "Lola has disappeared!" He could see now the great man's face as it flushed with anger and surprise. What would he say—that was the question?

Probably his reply would be something like this.

"Young fellow, when I hired you, you undertook to look out for my dogs and see that nothing happened to them. I agreed to pay you good wages to perform that service and you, on your part, promised to do it satisfactorily. How have you kept that promise? You knew Lola's value and you should have looked out for her. It's up to you. You must either produce that dog or you must pay for her."

He had by this time reached the house and like a criminal who faces execution and mounts the scaffold steps he climbed the broad flight leading to the front door. Mr. Crowninshield was on the veranda, sitting quietly in a big wicker chair, looking out toward the sea. He was thinking so intently on some imagining of his own that he did not hear the lad's footfall and Walter was obliged to address him twice before he answered. Then he started suddenly, as if annoyed at being disturbed.

"Well?" interrogated he.

The fine introduction that His Highness had planned to utter, together with everything else he had arranged to say, fled from his memory and he stood speechless before his employer.

"You wish to see me?" Mr. Crowninshield repeated in a less sharp tone.

"I—yes, sir."

Nevertheless, despite the heavy pause the words the boy sought would not come. Instead a plaintive jumble of phrases tumbled incoherently forth, astounding the lad himself almost as much as they did the person to whom they were addressed:

"Oh, sir, I've lost your dog, Lola! I didn't mean to and I didn't really lose her. She was gone when I got back from my walk with Achilles and the others. I left her locked in all right—I know I did. Where she is or how she got out I've no idea. I'm terribly sorry. I can't possibly pay for her, and you'll just have to put me in prison. It's the only way, I guess. Don't blame my mother or Bob, please, or Jerry either, because I've turned out to be such a duffer. It isn't their fault. And perhaps I better go straight home. I suppose you won't want me round here any more."

A great gasp strangled any further utterance and only the lad's sobbing breath broke the stillness.

Nerved to receive a scourge of maledictions or a blow the culprit waited. But nothing came—neither vindictives nor chastisement. He ventured to raise his head and confront his judge.

Mr. Crowninshield was sitting looking far out to sea exactly as before and Walter actually began to wonder whether he had been turned to stone or had been stricken with deafness.

"Mr. Crowninshield!" he at last ejaculated when the silence had become intolerable.

"Yes."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, sonny."

"Well—well—what are you going to do with me?"

"Nothing, my boy."

"What?"

"This job about Lola is nothing to do with you, my son. It has evidently been planned for a long time and carefully executed by professionals. Had you been on the spot they would have contrived to circumvent you just as they did Jerry. A gang have beaten us, that's all. But I will show them I am not to be beaten so easily. I'll have that dog back if it takes every dollar I have in the world. And I'll land those chaps behind the bars, every one of them, or my name isn't Crowninshield."

A tide of angry color surged over the face of the speaker and he rose abruptly, as if forgetting the lad's presence.

"Yes, sir!" he continued. "I'll round up those thieves. They needn't put me down for such an ass. Of course it's Daly and that New York bunch that set them on. They have always wanted Lola and been mad as hatters that I refused to sell her. Only the last time I saw Jake Daly he said, 'What I can't get by fair means I sometimes get by foul, Crowninshield, so you'd better look out for your precious dog.' I did not heed the threat at the time, attributing it to temper. But evidently he meant just what he said. He intended to have the dog, whether or no. But by thunder," Mr. Crowninshield brought down his fist on the piazza rail, "he won't win out in the deal! I'll jail him and all his tribe—see if I don't!"

Walter, watching, hardly knew whether to go or stay. The man's rage was terrible and he thanked his lucky stars that it was not directed toward himself.

"Is—is—there anything I can do, Mr. Crowninshield?" he at last managed to stammer after the master had ceased his pacing of the veranda and at length became conscious of his presence.

"Not a thing, little chap," returned his employer, flashing him one of his rare smiles. "You have been mighty white about this, though. I guess it took some nerve to come up here and tell me this, didn't it?"

"Yes, sir, it did."

"I wondered what you'd do."

"Wondered?"

"Yes. Mrs. Crowninshield told me about Lola the minute the Davenports went. I saw the affair had nothing to do with you. Nevertheless, I wasn't sorry to try you out and see how much of the man was in you. You're all right, boy. Cheer up! Nobody is going to pack you home to your mother, so don't worry. And far from blaming you, if I want help about finding Lola, I'll add you to my detective force. You may be useful, who knows?"

The words, designed merely to be comforting, were idly, kindly spoken, and carried little real weight. Had the master of the house really suspected how true they were to prove he would have been astonished.



CHAPTER VIII

A BLUNDER AND WHAT CAME OF IT

As if a weight had been removed from his soul Walter moved away. The whole world had suddenly become a different place. Although the calamity of Lola's disappearance was none the less distressing at least on his own particular horizon there no longer loomed the spectre of discharge and all the disgrace that accompanied it. He could have tossed his cap into the air for very joy and gratitude. In his relief he was bursting to talk to somebody, and as he had permission to use the telephone in order to keep in touch with his family it occurred to him that now was the moment to call up Bob and impart the exciting tidings of the afternoon. Bob was always off duty at this hour and if he had the good luck to find him at the station just the sound of his voice would be infinitely comforting.

Hastening in the side door he glanced into the wee telephone closet.

No one was there, and he took down the receiver and called the Seaver Bay station. In another instant Bob's Hello came cheerily over the wire.

"It's Walter, Bob."

"Anything the matter, kid?"

"N—o. Yes. That is, something was the matter but it is all over now. I just wanted to talk to you."

"Well, fire ahead. What do you want to say?"

"Oh, a lot. I hardly know how to start." The boy laughed nervously.

"You're not sick?"

"Oh, no."

"Well, we can't hold this line forever, son, so break away and tell your tale as fast as you can."

"I'll try to, Bob."

Incoherently the lad poured out his story. Once launched it came readily from his tongue and he continued to the end of it without interruption from his distant listener. When, however, he had finished, Bob's crisp tones came singing over the wire:

"You went out to walk about three, you say?"

"Yes."

"And returned?"

"It must have been half-past four or five, I guess."

"And there was nobody about the place all that time?"

"The men were all busy somewhere else. Strangely enough even Jerry, who usually is on deck, had a telephone call and had to go up to the big house."

"Oh, he did!"

"Yes. It was funny, too, because it was somebody he didn't know at all and he couldn't find out what the fellow wanted."

"What's that?" The interrogation was sharp and tense.

"Jerry just said it was some man up in Brockton whom he didn't know and as he couldn't make head nor tail out of the message he hung up the receiver. Nobody ever telephones to Jerry. It was queer they should do it to-day, wasn't it?"

"Very. Did you tell Mr. Crowninshield about it?"

"Oh, no, indeed. He was too busy about Lola to think of anything else."

"Nevertheless, I would tell him."

"What for? It wouldn't interest him."

"I think it might—a good deal. You tell him. Do you know whether he has done anything yet or not?"

"No, I don't. I didn't dare ask him what he was going to do."

"I suppose not. Well, I'm glad you got out of this snarl so well, kid. It's a pity they've lost the dog. You take mighty good care of the rest of the pups and don't let any more of them disappear."

"I'll try. And Bob——"

"I can't stop to talk any longer now, old chap. So long! If they get a line on the thief you might ring me up again. I shall be interested. Good-by."

"Good-by, Bob."

How fair Bob always was, reflected the boy, as he emerged into the open and made his way back to the kennels. Some brothers would probably have blurted out, "That's you all over!" or "Trust you to get into a mess!" But Bob never enjoyed seeing somebody else miserable. Instead he always tried to make everybody's troubles smaller than they really were. One could confess one's sins to Bob, knowing that he would be merciful.

So thought Walter as he sped down the gravel path to greet the clamoring pack of animals that hungrily awaited his coming.

"Well, old sports!" called he as he turned the key in the lock, "I guess you are ready for your supper. Wondering where your boss was, eh? I'm not very late. Only a quarter of an hour. It isn't late enough to warrant your making such a fuss. Down, Achilles! What's the matter with you? Anybody'd think you were crazy to see you jumping up and whining this way. What's got you, old man? Down, I say!"

He pushed the dog from him and started to enter the room where the food was kept; but again Achilles was in his path.

"Get out of my way, you beggar!" smiled Walter, playfully attempting to shake the creature off. "What is it? Are you clean starved? If you are you must stand out of the way so I can get you something to eat."

But the dog refused to move.

Planting himself squarely in the lad's pathway he began to bark furiously.

Then he raced to the gate, sniffed, and struggled to get out.

"What on earth has struck you, you giant?" inquired Walter, regarding the great creature in bewilderment. "Don't you want your dinner?"

It was plain in an instant that no matter what the lure of a bone might ordinarily be to-day, it held no charms for the big police dog. He had one wish and only one, and that was to be released from the wire enclosure in which he was penned and left free to follow some plan of his own which evidently absorbed him. So insistent was his demand that it was not to be denied and Walter slipped the bolt and allowed him to race away. Then the boy turned his attention to feeding the other dogs.

"Achilles probably has a bone buried somewhere," he muttered to himself, "and is going to dig it up. Just why he prefers stale food to fresh I can't see; but apparently he does."

Nevertheless His Highness had scarcely finished giving the dogs their dinner before Achilles was back again, and with no bone, either. On the contrary he was hot, breathless, and panting from what had obviously been a long run through the woods. Pine needles clinging to his furry coat attested that he had been over in the grove that flanked the estate on the west.

"Couldn't find your hidden treasure, eh, old boy?" commented Walter. "Gone, was it? Some other dog taken it?"

But Achilles failed to accept the jest with the cordiality such jokes commonly evoked. He neither wagged his tail nor stretched his jaws into a grin. Instead he began to yelp and bound back and forth upon the lawn.

"You act possessed. What on earth is the matter?" asked the boy, coming toward the gate and starting to open it.

No sooner was his hand on the latch, however, than the Belgian raced up with sharp barks of delight.

"Want me to come out, do you? Got something to show me?"

Again Achilles barked joyfully.

"Aren't you the tyrant, though?" remarked Walter. "I've just been to walk and am tired as the deuce. What do I wish to go tramping over the country again for?"

Nevertheless, despite his grudging protest, nothing else would satisfy the dog and at length, curious to see what caused the creature's excitement, he slipped the lock and stepped outside on to the turf. Instantly an exultant bark came from Achilles and he dashed away, only to return and take the lead through the woods, his nose to the ground and his ears erect. The boy followed. It was a race to keep up with the rapidly running vanguard. Now the chase skirted the lawn, now dipped into the pine woods. On and on went the dog, and in pursuit of him on and on went Walter.

They floundered along the slippery matting of copper, stumbling this way and that, and presently emerged where the land dropped down to the shore. The lad paused. He had no mind to scramble through the tall salt grass or sink ankle deep in the stretch of sand that adjoined it. But Achilles compelled. It was now no longer a matter of choice. The beast approached and catching the corner of the lad's sweater in his mouth tugged at it resolutely, even angrily.

Walter dared not resist. He let himself down over the edge of the bank into the sharp-edged grass, and wading through it reached the sand. Here Achilles halted. The end of their pilgrimage had, then, been reached. What was it all about? For a moment dog and man faced one another. Then, glancing about, His Highness gave a little cry. There were footprints in the sand,—deep footprints that the moisture had kept indelible. A train of them came and went toward a ribbon of automobile tracks that narrowed away up the beach and were finally lost in the confusion of a much traveled wood road.

Walter's heart leaped within him as the significance of the discovery rose before his imagination. This was the way Lola had gone.

A thief, familiar with the country and knowing the isolation of this sequestered cove, had driven through the wood road, left the car behind the dunes, and skulking through the woods, had successfully carried out a daring robbery. Perhaps he had been lingering concealed about the gardens all day or even many days. Who could tell? At any rate, he had chosen a propitious moment, provided himself with a skeleton key, and carried Lola away in the waiting motor car. Where they were now, who could tell? A car travels fast and a long distance could be covered in the two hours that had elapsed. Certainly no more time must be wasted.

With Achilles leaping before him Walter raced back to Surfside. Mr. Crowninshield, irritable and excited, was just coming out of the house.

"May I speak to you a moment, sir?" panted the boy.

"Yes, if it is important. I'm in a rush so do not delay me."

"But it's about Lola."

"Lola! Go ahead, then, if you have anything to say."

The lad told his story.

"Ha! Well done, Achilles!" exclaimed the financier when the tale was told. "Well done, old fellow! And well done you too, little shaver! Between you you have given us a big boost toward catching the thief. Now just one thing, sonny. I meant to caution you before you left but forgot it. You are not to speak of this affair to any one—not to any one at all. Do you understand? A false move on our part might undo everything and ruin our cause. Nobody is going to be caught red-handed with that dog in his possession. Rather than be trapped he would kill her. We mustn't let that happen. We shall follow up our man quietly without letting him suspect that he is being watched. That is the only way we can hope to get the pup back again. So mind you hold your tongue. Not a word to anybody on your life. Not a syllable. Be dumb as the grave and let me see how capable you are of keeping your own counsel. The trouble with most people is they blab everything. They can't wait to tell it. Let anything happen and they are off to confide it to some one before you can say Jack Robinson. Now don't you do that—at least not this time. Hold your tongue. This isn't your secret; it's mine."

In terror Walter hung his head. Should he confess that he had already telephoned Bob or should he keep silent.

Of course Bob wouldn't tell. There wouldn't be anybody to tell way off there at Seaver Bay. Besides, he himself could ring him up and caution him not to. Why need Mr. Crowninshield know anything about it?

But suppose Bob had told already and harm was done? Certainly it would be more honest to speak.

The boy took a big swallow.

"I'm afraid, sir, that I have already told some one," he blurted out miserably. "I didn't know it would do any harm and so I called up my brother and——"

"You young idiot!" burst out Mr. Crowninshield indignantly. "Why in thunder couldn't you keep still? We're in a nice mess now! If the story gets about and the police start to track down the thief it is good-by to Lola. Why did you have to run hot-footed to the telephone the first thing? Jove!"

"I'm very sorry, sir. I had no idea it would do any harm."

"But you have an idea of it now, haven't you?" inquired the master grimly.

"Yes. I see what you mean."

Mr. Crowninshield heaved an exasperated sigh.

"The game's up now, I guess," he muttered.

"But my brother lives off by himself in a very lonely place," the lad explained desperately. "Just he and another fellow have a house out on a point of land a long way off from everywhere. They couldn't tell anybody about Lola if they wanted to, especially if I call them right up and ask them not to."

"Where is it?"

"Seaver Bay."

"Never heard of it—or, stop a minute, isn't there a wireless station there or something?"

"Yes, sir. My brother——"

"Well, no matter about your brother now. You go into the house and call him up. When you get the line let me know and I will speak with him."

"Yes, sir." Nevertheless the lad lingered. "I'm—I'm awfully sorry," repeated he.

"There, there, go along. You meant no harm. You just blundered. But blunders are expensive things sometimes and this one may prove so unless we can prevent it."

Still His Highness did not go.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked his employer impatiently.

"My brother told me to tell you that Jerry had a telephone message this afternoon."

"A telephone message? What has that got to do with it?" burst out Mr. Crowninshield at the end of his patience.

"I don't know. Bob just said to tell you."

"Go ahead then."

Hurriedly the boy related the facts of the mysterious communication.

"So! Your brother has some brains if you haven't," said Mr. Crowninshield on hearing the story, and Walter saw him smile. "That was neat of them, very! They took the precaution to get Jerry, who is unfailingly about, out of the way."

"They?"

"The thieves, youngster. It was a Brockton call, you say."

"That was what Jerry told me."

"Good! That gives us another clue."

It was evident the information had put the master in rare good humor.

"Trot along, now, and call up this brother of yours. I shall be glad to talk with him, for he sounds as if he might be worth talking to. As for you, son, cheer up! No milk is spilled yet and perhaps it won't be if you have as wise a big brother as it appears. I might never have known of Jerry's message but for him. Jerry himself would not have placed enough importance on it to tell me, I am sure—or you, either, for that matter. So perhaps, after all, you did a good thing to enlist your brother in our behalf."

"I hope so, sir. I meant no harm; really I didn't."

"There, there, don't think of it again," said Mr. Crowninshield kindly. "I should have remembered you are not a man's age and cannot be expected to have the judgment that goes with fifty or sixty years of living. Even old codgers like myself blunder sometimes."

His eyes twinkled and in the radiance of his smile Walter saw the last cloud of wrath roll from his brow. Truly, as Jerry had affirmed, Mr. Crowninshield's rages were like thunderstorms—awesome while they lasted but unfailingly followed by sunshine.



CHAPTER IX

MORE CLUES

Notwithstanding Mr. Crowninshield's comforting words, however, Walter could not shake off the consciousness that take it all in all he had blundered desperately throughout the entire train of events connected with Lola and his vanity was sadly hurt. If any good had come out of what he had done it was more by chance than as a result of wise calculation. He had meant well, that was all that could be said, and the patronage these words implied was by no means flattering to one anxious to make himself valuable to his employer.

What a boob he was; what a blunderer! The name Mr. Crowninshield had so wrathfully bestowed on him was unquestionably deserved. It fitted him like a glove. The fact that the great man had afterward sought to palliate the sting of the term did not actually help matters any. What he had thought in the beginning and so spontaneously declared was what he really believed, and as his dispirited retainer observed to himself, who could blame him?

He couldn't have made a worse start at a job had he tried. In his depression he almost wished he had never seen Surfside, the Crowninshields, or anything belonging to them.

Nor was his melancholy lightened when he found on entering the house that the telephone line was busy and that some one was calling Mr. Crowninshield. Goodness only knew how long it might be now before the wire would be free for the master to reach and warn Bob to keep secret the tidings his brother had tattled to him. Wasn't it infernal luck to encounter this delay? If he had only held his tongue in the first place! Well, it had taught him a lesson. The next time he got mixed up in somebody else's affairs he would keep them to himself.

Meandering aimlessly outdoors he sat down on the steps to wait until the owner of the house should finish his conversation.

For a time he remained quite quiet; but when the minutes lengthened into a quarter of an hour he began to fidget. Would the talkers never stop? Why, their chattering seemed to be endless? Even through the door he could hear Mr. Crowninshield's curt tones and the eager rise and fall of his voice. Once he laughed as if pleased, and twice Walter heard a cry of "Good!" When he did appear on the piazza his face was wreathed in smiles.

"That brother of yours is a Jim Dandy!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands. "You did a mighty clever thing, young one, to get him on the job. We never can thank you enough."

"Me?"

"Certainly you! Why didn't you tell me more about this family paragon of yours? I didn't take in he was a radio operator."

"I—I—I don't know," replied Walter, bewildered.

"Well, his quick action has helped us no end—that is all I can say," announced the owner of Surfside triumphantly. "The instant he got your message he went to work with his wireless outfit. He flashed messages to all the stations in the outlying cities or else telephoned, and inside of half an hour every road to Boston and to New York was watched. You see a man with a little dog had stopped at his station for water. The wood road skirting our shore goes right by Seaver Bay and probably the thief reasoned that no one would be on the lookout for him on such an out-of-the-way thoroughfare. At any rate he had to have water for his engine and he took a chance. He told your brother he was touring the Cape, and had you not called Bob up he would have thought no more of the happening. But when you told him about Lola immediately he pricked up his ears. The dog tallied perfectly with what you had previously told him and the fact that it was a Pekingese made him suspicious. Leaping at the possibility that his visitor was in reality the man wanted, he sent out a broadcast describing the culprit.

"With an accurate description of the man, car, and dog we cannot fail to get tidings soon. And at any rate we have something definite to work on. We know what the thief looks like, what he had on, the make of his car and all about him. Unquestionably he will be stopped either between here and Boston or between here and New York,—for he is probably aiming for one of those cities. I myself rather think he will go straight through to Boston. He would not venture to try New York until later because he would be well aware that the authorities there would be waiting for him. He isn't going to be trapped. So he will try to do the thing he figures I will not calculate upon." Mr. Crowninshield rubbed his hands and laughed. "Little does he know we have him down cold already! And it has all been so quietly and promptly done. That is the beauty of it. You must have got home from your walk very soon after the wretch had left. Therefore the loss was discovered sooner than he had planned. Doubtless he was delayed by Jerry's being about and had to wait until his accomplice up in Brockton called him off. I presume they had agreed upon some hour when they would summon the unsuspecting caretaker to the telephone." As the scheme of the robbery began to unfold, Walter mirrored his employer's smile.

"And if the other chap is in Brockton doesn't that indicate that this fellow who was here will most likely expect to pass through there and pick him up?" he ventured, feeling very much of a personage to be thus taken into Mr. Crowninshield's confidence.

"Exactly!"

His Highness glowed with satisfaction. Some of his self-esteem was returning.

"Fortunately your brother had the good sense to warn his allies to act carefully and not alarm the thief, so that the life of the dog might not be jeopardized. He seems to have thought of everything, this brother Bob of yours. If we get Lola back it will be largely his doing—and yours. I sha'n't forget the fact, either."

Walter flushed under the great man's praise.

"It was just a happen," murmured he. "I thought I had blundered."

He saw Mr. Crowninshield color at having his own word hurled back at him.

"Some of the most fortunate strokes in our lives are achieved by chance," replied he, laughing. "See how capable I am of shifting my philosophy," he added with good humor. "Nevertheless, although this indiscretion of yours has turned out well I still maintain that, generally speaking, a silent tongue is a great asset. In nine cases out of ten keeping still does far less harm than talking. Jerry is a shining example of my creed. In all the years he has been here he has never let his tongue outrun his solid judgment. And yet," concluded he with a twinkle, "had we trusted to Jerry, we should never have heard of his Brockton telephone communication. So there you are! Which is the better way? It seems to be a toss up in this case."

"I guess the better way is never to make a mistake," smiled Walter.

"Do you know the infallible person who can boast such a record?" came whimsically from Mr. Crowninshield.

"N—o, sir."

"Nor I."

A pause fell between them and Walter rose to go.

"Do you suppose you will hear anything more to-night?" questioned he shyly.

"There is no telling. We may have news at any moment; or again we may hear nothing until into the night or till morning."

"I'm crazy to get tidings, aren't you?" In his earnestness the lad had forgotten that they were not of an age or quite of the same station.

The master smiled indulgently.

"I'm every bit as crazy to hear as you are," said he, quite as if Lola were their joint possession.

"Do you think you'll get any message before I go to bed?"

Once more Mr. Crowninshield regarded him with friendly comradeship.

"That depends on what time you turn in."

"At home Ma makes me go at nine o'clock. I've done it pretty much, too, since I've been here. She wanted I should."

"You are a sensible fellow. Nine o'clock is late enough for anybody to sit up, although I will admit," the man chuckled mischievously, "that in New York we occasionally sit up later than that."

But Walter ignored the jest.

"Do you think you will hear by nine?" persisted he.

"There is no way of knowing, sonny," was the kind answer. "The best thing for you to do, however, is to go to bed as you usually do. You are tired out with excitement. I can see that."

"No I'm not," contradicted the boy, his eyes very wide open.

"But you are—a deal more fagged than you realize. I am myself. Now I'll tell you what we'll do. I'll go to bed and you go to bed; and if any message comes I'll tell them to waken me and then I'll waken you. I can call you on the wire that goes from the house down to your quarters. How will that do?"

"But suppose I shouldn't hear it?" objected the lad.

"Somebody will. The chauffeurs do not go to sleep as early as you do, I rather fancy. I will give orders for one of them to tell you if a call comes."

"I'd much prefer to sit up, sir. Why couldn't I just sit here on the piazza? It wouldn't disturb anybody and I should be on the spot."

"You might sit here all night and catch your death of cold, and no tidings come until morning, sonny. No, my plan is much the better one. You trot along to bed. I'll fulfill my part of the contract and go also. And if there is anything to tell before morning you shall hear it."

Reluctantly the lad moved away.

He was not in the least sleepy. Nevertheless because he had given his word he dragged himself across the lawn, mounted the stairs to his room, and began to undress. His spirits were very high. Within an hour or two—three hours at the very most—the telephone would ring and Mr. Crowninshield would announce to him the glad tidings that the thief had been caught. Then some one would motor to Barnstable, Brockton, or wherever it was, recapture Lola, and bring her back, and the events of the past few hours would be only a nightmare. And it would be Bob—he and Bob—who brought about this glorious climax to a day of catastrophes. And if such a result was accomplished had not the owner of Surfside promised that he would never forget the service?

For his own part Walter wanted nothing. If Lola could only be found his happiness would be complete. But if only Mr. Crowninshield would do something wonderful for Bob! Perhaps he might give him a big sum of money; he could well afford to. Or maybe he would put him in the way of earning it. There was no telling what Aladdin-like feats he might perform. Such a man was all powerful. Why, he could send Bob to Europe if he chose! Or pay the mortgage on the house. He could make Bob's fortune.

The younger boy thrilled at the thought.

With these optimistic and intriguing fancies in mind he slipped into bed and soon dozed off into dreams wilder and even more extravagant. He slept soundly and awoke with a bewildered cry when a knock came at the door.

"It's I—Wheeler, shaver! The boss wants you on the telephone."

Up scrambled Walter, his stupor banished by the agitation of the moment.

He did not wait to don his clothes but in his pajamas took the stairs two at a time and soon had his ear to the receiver.

"Walter?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, we have some news, such as it is." Mr. Crowninshield's voice sounded dubious and discouraged. "They tracked the car we were after to Buzzard's Bay and found it there empty; its occupants had disappeared."

"Disappeared!" repeated the astounded boy.

"Yes, they're gone! Vanished in thin air! Not a trace of them is to be found. The abandoned automobile with its number removed, was discovered on a side road."

"The man must be hiding somewhere in the vicinity then."

"That does not follow, son; I wish it did."

"What else could he do?"

"His accomplice from Brockton could meet him with another car, for one thing."

"A different car, and throw us off the scent!"

"Precisely."

For a second neither of them spoke. Walter was too nonplussed and his employer too disheartened.

"Isn't that the limit!" the lad presently gathered indignation enough to ejaculate.

"I expected something of the sort," was the reply. "We are up against professionals, you see, and not amateurs. This gang is being paid big money and does not intend either to fail in what it has undertaken or be trapped. We had it too easy at the beginning and were too much elated by our initial success."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I've wired New York for detectives. I ought to have followed my first impulse and done it immediately, and I should have had we not seemed on the high road to success without help. The plain-clothes men will probably be miffed at being called in now that we have meddled with the case and messed it all up."

"But I don't see how we have done any harm," retorted His Highness, feeling it a little ungrateful of Mr. Crowninshield to veer so quickly from commendation to censure.

"Oh, untrained people never can compete with skilled ones in any line," was the sharp answer. "I ought to have remembered it. Doubtless in our zeal we betrayed ourselves somehow and our man became suspicious and adopted other tactics in consequence."

"I don't believe so," Walter maintained stoutly. "I'll bet this is just what he had arranged to do anyway."

"Well, perhaps it was. We cannot tell about that," yawned the man at the other end of the wire. "The result, however, is the same. Instead of netting our catch we have allowed it to slip through our fingers."

There was an edge of exasperation in the tone.

"Maybe we'll have better luck than you think," ventured the lad, not knowing what else to say, and unwilling to betray his chagrin.

"We'll have neither good luck nor bad in future," responded the master curtly. "After this we keep our hands off and the detectives manage the affair. There have been blunders enough."

With this ungracious comment the great man hung up the receiver and stumbling through the darkness His Highness felt his way upstairs and dropped into bed.

Like a house of cards his roseate dreams for the future had suddenly collapsed. There would be now no wonderful career for Bob, no bag of gold, no fairy fortune! Instead of being a hero he had again become a mere duffer, a blunderer, had played the fool.

Since failure had come in place of the coveted success Mr. Crowninshield would most likely blame it all to him.

Fleeting, indeed, was the favor and gratitude of princes!



CHAPTER X

BOB

By late afternoon of the following day the New York detectives arrived and Wheeler drove their dusty and travel-stained car around to the garage.

"Must have speeded up some!" commented he, on viewing the throbbing machine. "Left New York at midnight," they said. "Some friends of the master's likely, come to play golf."

Ever given to frankness it was on the tip of Walter's tongue to declare the real identity of the strangers, but fortunately he bethought him in time to halt the words.

"What did they look like?" inquired he, eager to know and yet anxious not to appear inquisitive.

"Look like? Like any other dusty, muddy guys," grumbled Wheeler, eyeing with disdain the grimy automobile which he knew he would be expected to clean.

"Old or young?" persisted His Highness.

"Old enough to know better than to heat up an engine this way, but young enough to do it," snapped Wheeler. "Shouldn't think their car had seen water in years, it's that filthy. A rum job for me!"

Walter, however, did not reply. He was not in the least interested in the mud-caked car. It was its occupants that aroused his curiosity. In all his life he had never seen a genuine detective and he was all impatience for a peep at persons allied with such an intriguing profession. While his reason told him they must, of course, look precisely like other men, nevertheless the hope would persist that perhaps, after all, they didn't. And even if they did appear like ordinary mortals were there not their myriad disguises? He hoped with all his heart they would wear some of these, that the exigencies of the case would compel it.

Very great, then, was his surprise and disappointment when on being summoned to the big house soon after the arrival of these interesting creatures he was presented to two commonplace beings who, although charming gentlemen, were not in the least different from anybody else. Mr. Dacie, the younger of the men, was a pleasant, blond-haired fellow who instantly ingratiated himself in the boy's affections by asking him if he collected stamps and bestowing on him two rare ones from China. In fact he seemed to like everything a boy liked and appeared to be almost a boy himself.

Mr. Lyman was older but he, too, when he was not being stern and business-like, was very jolly. No one could possibly be afraid of either one of them and then and there His Highness's faith in the ultimate success of Mr. Crowninshield's cause dwindled and died. They weren't disguised at all; and if they had pistols they must have had them well concealed for the only suspicious articles produced from their pockets were notebooks and pencils. He had expected to be quite awed by their presence but on the contrary he found, when he started out to show them the kennels and the place where he had seen the automobile tracks, that he was chattering away to both of them quite as if he had known them all his life.

Mr. Dacie was particularly friendly, and as they walked along he talked much of sports, dogs, and fishing. Furthermore he was intensely interested in Bob and listened attentively to all that was told him about this remarkable big brother. He had a bully brother himself, he said. In short, before a half hour had passed His Highness had not only decided to become a detective but to become one exactly like Mr. Dacie.

And yet as he thought it over afterward the hero of his sudden adoration had not uttered one syllable about jails, criminals, robberies, or crimes of any sort. In fact he had talked really very little. What he had done had been to smile, nod, and let the other fellow babble. It had, to be sure, been a delightful experience to find yourself a lion, and everything you did of interest to your listener; but you did not learn much about the business of being a detective, reflected Walter, a bit mortified by his discovery. Well, the next time he was with Mr. Dacie he would ask him some questions and let him relate everything about his mysterious calling.

Strange to say, however, the moment for such disclosures never appeared to come right. There was always so much else to talk of. Mr. Dacie wanted most terribly to catch some flounders and wondered if there were any to be found; and of course as Walter knew of three secret places where flounders were sure to lurk he eagerly told his new friend about them. And then he had to talk swimming and school—and how he hated it! Why, there were endless things to tell Mr. Dacie. The visit of the two men was, moreover, surprisingly short. They remained at Surfside only one night and the next morning, together with Mr. Crowninshield, who led the way in his car, they disappeared leaving His Highness none the wiser and regretfully mourning his lost opportunity to be initiated into the gruesome mysteries of a detective's career.

The realization that in exchange for telling everything he knew or ever had thought Mr. Dacie had told him nothing suddenly caused the lad to speculate as to whether after all both Mr. Dacie and his associate, Mr. Lyman, were not cleverer than they looked to be.

It seemed incredible to recall, now that they were gone, that he had not once asked them what they thought about Lola and whether they had any idea where the man who had taken her had gone. How much better it would have been had he made that inquiry instead of chattering about his own affairs. But somehow when there had been a lull in the conversation they had always been busy measuring footprints or automobile ruts, and writing down these unending dimensions. Moreover, something which he was unable to explain always halted the questions.

Well, it was useless to regret his vanished opportunities. The detectives were now far beyond his reach and probably he would never see them again. He might as well go about his work and put them, together with Lola and her baffling disappearance, out of his mind. This he tried valiantly to do, but in spite of his utmost endeavor his thought constantly reverted to the missing dog, and when toward dusk Mr. Crowninshield's car came whirling up the avenue His Highness had all he could do not to rush out and demand of the master whether he had secured any further information.

To remember that he must keep constantly in the background was, in fact, one of the most difficult aspects of Walter's job. As a democratic young American who had always mingled in the best society Lovell's Harbor had to offer he had been free to give a hail to anybody he desired to greet. But at Surfside everything was different. He must stifle his natural impulses and curb his tongue, a role very hard for one who had had no previous experience with class distinctions. Difficult as it had been he had made up his mind to being excluded from the gayety that went on about him. It was, to be sure, no fun to view automobile loads of young people roll out of the drive bent on a day of pleasure; to look on while motor boats pulled up anchor and puffed across the blue of the bay. And how he would have adored to try his hand at a set of tennis on that fine dirt court! Ah, there were moments when to a normal, healthy boy the world appeared a very unfair place; and the lot of one who worked for a living a wretched one.

And then, when his spirits had reached their lowest ebb, he would resolutely take himself to task. Was there not his pay envelope to compensate him? He was not at Surfside to have a good time; he was there to earn his daily bread and very fortunate was he to have so good a place. Having read himself this lecture he was wont to turn to his duties with lighter heart, closing his ears to the laughter and his eyes to the merriment that made up the days of the idle. But what he never could get used to was the fact that he must not ask questions or voice his opinions. In a free country where one man was as good as another the mandate seemed absurd. But it wasn't done. That was all there was about it. Jerry said so and so did Tim.

Instead of piping, "Hi, Mr. Crowninshield, did you find out anything?" one awaited the information until it was voluntarily imparted.

In this particular case, as good fortune would have it, His Highness's impatience had seethed and bubbled only a half hour before who should come strolling down to the kennels but the very gentleman the lad was feverish to interrogate.

Arrayed in a cool Palm Beach suit and a soft hat of white felt he sauntered up as indifferently as if the boy's curiosity were not at the boiling point and said, "Good evening," in a perfectly calm, self-possessed tone.

"Good evening, sir," Walter replied.

"Dogs all right?"

"Yes, sir."

"No more of them missing?"

"Not on your—no, sir."

The great man turned away to conceal a smile.

"I've been seeing your brother to-day," remarked he.

"Bob?"

Mr. Crowninshield nodded.

"Yes. We went over to the Seaver Bay wireless station."

The lad waited.

"You have a very fine brother, youngster, and one whom you may well be proud of."

"Yes, sir."

(What was the use of telling him that? His Highness knew what a corker Bob was without being told. Much better tell him what had happened at Seaver Bay, what the detectives said, and whether Lola had been found!)

"We had, in fact, quite a talk with your brother."

"Yes, sir." The reply came automatically.

"He was able to furnish us with much information regarding the man we are chasing up."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes," ruminated Mr. Crowninshield with evident satisfaction, "we have the thief sketched in quite clearly."

"Yes, sir."

"With the details your brother gave us Dacie and Lyman have a most encouraging foundation on which to work."

"Have they found out anything yet, sir?"

The question would out despite all Walter could do to stop it. He knew the instant it had left his tongue that he shouldn't have asked it and he stood there hot and embarrassed at his own audacity.

Much to his surprise, however, Mr. Crowninshield did not appear to be in the least offended. On the contrary he seemed pleased by the lad's eager interest and smiled at him kindly.

"Yes, we've found out something," said he, "but it is not very good news, I am sorry to say. Dacie and Lyman traced the car that carried Lola as far as Buzzard's Bay and discovered that there——"

"Yes?" interrupted Walter, so intent on the story that he was unconscious of interrupting.

"There," repeated Mr. Crowninshield, "the thieves embarked on a private yacht that awaited their coming; steamed through the Canal, and——"

"Don't say they are gone, sir!" cried the boy.

"I'm afraid so, sonny."

"Well, if that isn't the limit!"

"It is, indeed," rejoined the elder man heartily.

His Highness had staggered back against the door in consternation. If Mr. Crowninshield had affirmed that the thieves had taken flight in an aeroplane he could not have been more astonished than by the turn affairs had taken.

"What do you suppose they'll do now?" demanded he.

"We've no idea. They may make for New York, Boston, or some other port where they think they will be safe. There is no way of knowing. Or it may be that the person who hired them to get Lola is on the yacht and having now secured what he has been in search of he may simply cruise about and not land at all for months. Anything is possible."

"Could they get the name of the boat?"

"Yes, she's called the Siren."

"Then I should think it would be easy enough to track her down, board her, and bring Lola away," said Walter.

"It sounds simple, doesn't it?" Mr. Crowninshield returned. "But I am afraid it is not going to be as easy as that. We have no way of proving that Lola is aboard the yacht, in the first place. Moreover, even did we know that she was there, there are a thousand and one places where she could be hidden and defy discovery. And were the villains actually cornered nothing would be less difficult than to wring the puppie's neck and throw her overboard so that nothing would remain to identify the wretches with their crime."