ever since his return from princeton in june, harold mason had spent part of each day with his fair neighbor, ruth henry. more or less of a stranger in town, and having been away at college for four months, he had not formed any deep friendships with the young men of his own age. it was true that jack wilkinson had been fairly chummy with him, including him often among his crowd, in which harold had always had a good time; but he had singled out no individual for his especial friend. perhaps ruth henry was largely the cause of this.

for the young people had spent as much time together as mrs. henry would permit, and as ruth would spare away from jack wilkinson, with whom the old boy and girl friendship still persisted, in spite of the many disturbances between the former and jack’s sister, marjorie.

ruth and harold had played tennis together almost every day, had sometimes gone for walks, and had taken a “spin” almost every evening after supper. the boy was deeply infatuated with his99 spirited young companion; now that she was away, he missed her most frightfully. he sometimes thought of looking for a summer job, but the hope that ruth might telegraph to summon him to her aid prevented him. he wanted to be free to go the instant he received word. it was his dream day and night that she would want him, that he would be able to carry out the plan they had secretly plotted and that ruth would win the meet at silvertown. perhaps she would be so overjoyed with his cleverness that she would obtain permission to invite him to silvertown over the week end! he would take his ford sedan, and it would be the only car among the crowd; he would be the most popular of young men, and ruth, seeing how the others admired him, would be proud to claim him as her particular friend!

it was, therefore, with a thrill of joy that he received the telegram and opened it to read the brief message. his eyes lit up instantly; then, glancing at his father who was awaiting the news, he stuffed the yellow paper into his pocket.

“a peach of an invitation from miles carter!” he exclaimed. “a stag house-party! by jupiter, i’m glad i’m not working—and have to miss it!”

the explanation was, of course, made up on the spot; even the name was fictitious. harold had just finished reading a book with such a character, and it was the first name that popped into his head.

100 “when does it begin?” asked mrs. mason, who had just entered the room in time to hear the story.

“tomorrow, in time for dinner; miles said last may that this might come off, if he could get a certain bungalow. but he said he wouldn’t know ahead of time, so he’d have to wire.”

the boy smiled in satisfaction at his ingenious explanation; it certainly was not a bad extemporaneous one. he was trying to decide where to locate the party, when the very question was put by his father.

“where is it to be?”

“atlantic city!” he replied without the slightest hesitation.

“can i help you pack?” suggested his mother.

“no, thanks,” said harold, hastily, rather alarmed at the idea. his plan necessitated a complete disguise, and he had no desire for his mother to catch a glimpse of it.

“going in the car?” asked his father.

“sure, mike!”

once in his room he bolted the door and unlocked a big wooden chest which was beneath his bed. then he drew out a bedraggled grey wig, with a beard and mustache to match, a complete make-up outfit, a mussed shirt and celluloid collar, a red necktie, a suit with baggy trousers, and a pair of old man’s shoes.

“pshaw, i forgot a hat!” he muttered. “wouldn’t101 my spick and span panama look ridiculous with this rig!”

he sat down on the edge of the bed to think. at last he decided upon his own grey felt, which he thought he could twist so out of shape as to make it look appropriate.

next he packed these things, and locking all his dress and sport clothing in the wooden chest in the effort to deceive his mother into thinking he had taken them, he began to count his money. fortunately, harold mason had his own bank account; for he could not guess just how much money he might need, and it would have been embarrassing indeed to have to ask his father for some, and have to make up other fictitious explanations.

he made all his preparations, for he intended to start early thursday morning. and by six o’clock he was on his way, his disguise in the suitcase in the back of the machine, and his copy of the map in his pocket. the road was good, and he knew the country well; there was no cause for delay. the distance covered by the canoes, slowly following the winding course of the stream, was made with great rapidity in the car. by noon he had reached the town from which ruth had sent the telegram.

although harold’s mother had packed him some sandwiches, the boy was almost starved, and he made immediately for the only hotel in the town—the little green tree inn.

102 he had hardly entered the door, when a servant approached him.

“mr. harold mason?” he inquired.

harold stopped, amazed. how could anyone here know his name?

“yes,” he replied.

“one of the young ladies left a letter here for you,” the boy said, producing an envelope from his pocket.

while harold ate his dinner he read ruth’s letter, which went into the minutest details. it was a friendly, intimate letter, telling just where they expected to camp that night—which was in reality by the old mill, just opposite to the farm where, according to old michael’s rumor, the weak-minded woman lived by herself.

after harold had paid his bill, and sat smoking, he counted the money in his pocket. besides his bills and usual currency, he had been careful to bring along two gold pieces, for he knew that gold, above all other kinds of money, would prove attractive to ignorant people.

consulting his map, and comparing it with the details in ruth’s letter, he saw he had only about seven miles to go. he was therefore in no hurry; there would be no action until the following morning. indeed, he finally decided to spend the afternoon at rikers and to get his supper there, and not start for the farm house until after seven o’clock.103 he would proceed leisurely until within five miles of the farm; then stop, pull down the curtains of the car, put up his mirror, and don his disguise. then he would go on to the farm.

it was nearly nine o’clock when an old man, with shaggy grey hair and beard, and a dingy suit covered by an old dust-coat, arrived at the farm in his machine. he found the woman alone, just as michael had said, but she did not appear feeble-minded. though ignorant and uneducated, she seemed to possess all of her faculties. she was large and stout, and looked quite capable of taking care of a small farm with her own hands. and, as far as he could tell in the dark, the place seemed well kept.

harold got out of his machine slowly, as he thought a man of his years should walk, and lifted his hat. the woman was seated on the porch, rocking and resting.

“excuse me, ma’am,” he drawled, in a disguised voice, “but hev you happened to see a bunch of gals about yere any place?”

the woman looked him all over before replying. deciding that he was evidently from the country—one of her own kind—she answered:

“yes, sir; they’s a bunch of them acrost the stream yonder, campin’ out in tents. they come before sundown this evenin’.”

“sho! hev any of them been over yere yet?”

“no. i ain’t seen them close.”

104 “wal, listen,” said harold, lowering his voice to a whisper, “here’s a piece o’ news! one o’ them gals has run away—from her pap! and he’s a rich man, and has offered a good reward to them as ketches ’er. the gal’s name is margie wilkison. if you and me could ketch ’er—see—” he jingled his money in his pockets—“we’d go fifty-fifty! huh?”

the woman regarded him for a moment distrustfully. “i don’t know about that,” she said doubtfully. “how can i believe you?”

harold took a five dollar gold piece out of his pocket, and held it alluringly close to her, so that she might see it in spite of the darkness.

“this is yours—and more later,” he said, “if you promise to help me all you can. i don’t mean to harm the gal in any way; i jest want ’a keep ’er a prisoner yere till we get word to her pap. then—maybe—five hundred a piece fer you and me!”

the woman could not resist such a tempting offer; her eyes sparkled in the darkness, and she seized the gold piece with greedy hands.

“sure you ain’t doin’ no kind o’ kidnappin’?” she asked sharply.

“i give you my word of it!” he replied solemnly. “but remember, whatever i say, you must pertend to her is true. for instance—you and me pertend to be married. you treat me like your old man! and can i sleep in the loft of your barn?”

105 “i reckon!” answered the woman. “want sumpthin’ to eat?”

“no, thanks; i had my supper.”

“how ’bout a nice ripe peach? my peaches is supposed to be the best in this here township.”

“don’t care if i do,” replied harold, and he followed her into the kitchen.

they sat for a while, talking, harold leading his accomplice to tell him about the farm and the surrounding country. after about half an hour’s chat, they came back to the subject in question.

“and how do you expect to get the girl over here?” asked the woman. “go across and steal her?”

harold laughed unguardedly, showing his regular, white teeth, which would have been almost a miracle for one of his assumed age. however, the oil lamp gave a dim light and the woman was unobserving; the incident passed without any notice. but the boy realized that he must take more precaution in the presence of the young people.

“i expect her to come over yere,” he explained, “probably for milk, or butter, or something. and if she does, you invite her into the kitchen, and i’ll bolt the doors. get an upstairs room ready, and of course i’ll continue to occupy the barn as long as the gals stay. there will be no scandal, no danger; you can assure yourself o’ that. all i want is the106 money. and remember—if we get it, it’s half yours!”

not long afterwards, he pumped himself a bucket of water, put his car into an unoccupied part of the barn, and crept up to his straw bed. though the floor was hard, harold slept well; he was having a great adventure; and best of all, he was going to make it possible for ruth to win her heart’s desire.