Frank reached camp in time for breakfast. He was weary with his long night journey, and his chums saw evidences of the strain it had been on him in his eyes, heavy from need of sleep, and his arms, which trembled from the long paddling. But they did not question him.
"Here's some hot coffee!" called Fenn, as his chum drew the boat up on the bank.
"Thanks," replied Frank. "I think I'll go to bed if you fellows don't mind. I'm dead tired."
"We're going off fishing," said Bart. "You can do as you please, and lie around all day."
"We'll have to have some supplies this afternoon," put in Ned. "Camp stuff is running low. Someone has to go to some farmer's and buy some butter, eggs and bread."
"I'll go," volunteered Frank. "I'll take the trip this afternoon."
"All right," said Ned. "We may not be back until after dinner. We're going to take some grub with us. Go any time you want to. I guess the camp will look after itself for a while. We haven't been bothered with visitors since we came."
The three chums, having arranged their fishing tackle, started off, while Frank stretched out on his cot and was soon asleep.
It was noon when he awakened, and, after getting himself something to eat, he prepared to go for the supplies. The boys had arranged with a farmer, who lived about two miles from camp, to provide them with things to eat. Taking a big basket Frank was soon on the way.
"Wa'al, ain't you boys give up livin' in th' woods?" greeted Mr. Armstrong, when Frank had given his order for the camp supplies.
"No, we're still there. Bears haven't eaten us yet."
"That's strange, 'cause I seen a big flock of 'em headin' that way only th' other day. I says to my wife, says I, 'them b'ars is goin' to eat them boys, sure!'" and he laughed at his joke.
"Guess they got frightened," suggested Frank.
"Wa'al, now, mebby they did. How long you goin't' stay?"
"We haven't set any special time. All summer maybe. Until we get tired, anyhow."
"One night would tire me," commented Mr. Armstrong. "I like a roof over my head, I do. Now you wait a minute an' I'll git th' eggs an' other things. I keep 'em down cellar where it's cool. There's a paper ye might like t' look at. It's printed in the village, an' it gives all th' news from tellin' of how Deacon Jones's cow ate green apples an' died, t' relatin' th' momentous fact that Silas Landseer has painted his barn red. Make yourself right t' home an' read all th' news."
Frank took the paper and sat down in a big rocking chair on the side porch, while Mr. Armstrong, with the basket, went down in the cellar. The boy looked over the sheet, which contained news of the doings in the village and near-by. There were a few advertisements, of horses and cows for sale, of auctions about to take place, and one or two legal notices. As Frank's eyes roved over the columns he caught sight of something that caused him to utter an exclamation. He eagerly scanned a notice, and had only read half through it when Mr. Armstrong came up from the cellar.
"There!" exclaimed the farmer. "I reckon you boys ain't goin' t' starve this week," and he set down the basket, which was quite heavy. "Can you carry that out t' camp?"
"I guess so," replied Frank, holding the journal in his hand. "By the way, do you want this paper? I'd like to take it back with me."
"Take it an' welcome. Must be kind of lonesome out there in the woods. I've got a lot of old papers if you want 'em."
"No, thanks, this one will do," the boy said, folding the sheet and putting it into his pocket.
Paying the farmer, Frank took up the basket and started back toward camp. The victuals were heavy but he did not mind that. He was thinking of the notice he had seen in the paper. As soon as he was out of sight of the farmhouse, he sat down beside the trail that led to the tent, and took the sheet from his pocket. Turning to the page that had so interested him he read:
"WANTED: at the Cliffside Sanitarium, a strong, capable young man, to assist in the general work. One of quiet habits preferred. Apply to Dr. Jacob Hardman."
"I wonder if I dare do it," Frank said softly to himself. "It would give me just the chance I need. I have a good notion to try, at any rate. They can't any more than say they don't want me. And, if they do take me—"
He paused to think over the possibilities should he get the position. A light came into his eyes. He seemed to have forgotten the troubles of the past few weeks.
"The worst of it is, though, that I can't tell the boys. They wouldn't understand. I've got to work alone for a while yet, until I get things where I want them. I think the best plan will be to slip off, and say nothing to them at all. Explanations, especially when I can't give all the facts, will only tangle the thing up worse than it is. No, I've got to disappear again, and they must think what they will. It's the only way."
He picked up the heavy basket and started on again, folding the paper so that the advertisement was outside. Then he put the journal into his pocket.
"I hope I get back before the boys arrive," was his thought as he trudged on. "I must get away this afternoon, and make application this evening. The place may already be filled."
Frank was glad to note, when he got back to camp, that his three chums were still absent. He placed the basket of food where they could see it, and then, putting on his best clothes, and making a bundle of some underwear and other of his possessions he started off through the woods, following the telephone line.
"I wish I could take the canoe," he thought, as he saw it drawn up on the bank. "I would get there more quickly, but I have no way of sending it back, in case I stay. It wouldn't be fair. No, I'll have to tramp it. Guess I'll put on a pair of smoked glasses for a disguise. Some of those attendants may recognize me," and he tried on a pair he had in his pocket. He decided to use them when he asked for the place.
He had gone on about a mile when he felt for the paper. It was gone.
"It doesn't matter though," he told himself. "I know what it says. All I've got to do is to ask for Dr. Hardman, and tell him I think I'll fill the bill."
So he kept on through the woods, his mind filled with thoughts of many things, chief of which was the hope that he would get the situation, and be able to put his plan into operation.
It was well on toward evening when the three chums got back from their fishing trip, for they had tramped several miles. They had good luck, and brought back several beauties.
"Hello, Frank!" called Bart, when they were within hearing distance of the camp.
There was no answer.
"Maybe he's asleep yet," suggested Fenn.
"Hardly," commented Ned.
The boys reached the tent. The first thing they saw was the basket of provender Frank had left.
"Well, he's been to Armstrong's," remarked Bart. "Hello, Frank! Where are you?"
An echo was the only answer. Ned entered the tent. He came out in a hurry.
"Frank's run away!" he exclaimed.
"What makes you think so?" asked Bart, much surprised, while Fenn looked startled at the news.
"Because most of his clothes are gone."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. Look!" and he pointed to where they were missing from the small trunk in which Frank kept them.
"This is getting serious," declared Bart. "Something is wrong with Frank. I wonder where he could have gone?"
"What's that over there?" asked Fenn, pointing to a white object at the foot of a tree.
"It's a newspaper," said Ned, picking it up. "And it is turned to display an advertisement. I wonder if Frank could have gone to answer this?" and he read the item concerning the sanitarium.
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