less crooked
writing in pencil. Then the patrol leader turned to his comrades, a
look of satisfaction on his face.

CHAPTER XIII

HEN CONDIT'S STRANGE MESSAGE

"Is it from Hen?" asked two or three at once, that being the all
important fact stamped upon their minds.

At the same time they realized just as well as anything it must be so,
else Elmer would not be smiling and frowning as he deciphered the
meaning of the scrawl. As all the boys knew, Hen Condit was one of the
poorest writers in the Hickory Ridge High School. It may be remembered
that in speaking of his other note some of them brought this fact
forward, stating that a teacher had once declared the boy well named,
since his efforts looked like "hen-tracks" on paper.

"It's lucky that I'm able to read any sort of old writing," remarked
Elmer, not without a touch of boyish pride; "it's a gift with me, and
Hen sometimes came to ask me to tell him what he'd set down, for after
it got cold he couldn't well make it out himself."

"Then you've sensed the meaning of his present communication, have you,
Elmer?" questioned Mark, a little bit given to stilted language.

"I can read it all right," was the reply he received, "but
understanding the gist of it is another thing. The sentences seem
disconnected, and some of them are queer. When Hen wrote this he must
either have been half out of his mind, or else he was in great fear of
something, or _somebody_!"

Of course, when the scout-master said this, it produced something of a
sensation among the other six fellows. They exchanged grave looks,
while Lil Artha was seen to shake his head, and give that gun of his a
little tilt upwards, as though he now believed more than ever the time
was near at hand when he would be compelled to make some sort of use of
the same, in order to save the kidnapped chum.

"Please read it out to us, Elmer!" begged Landy.

"Yeth, we're wondering what it can all be about," added Ted Burgoyne.

"Then listen, and please don't interrupt me until I finish," said
Elmer. "This is what Hen's written with a lead pencil on this sheet of
paper, which I think he must have torn from a little memorandum book I
happen to know he always carries about in his pocket."

He held the crumpled paper closer to his eyes, for in places the
writing was rather faint, and in two particular spots Elmer had to
guess at a word, for evidently a drop of something, perhaps a salty
tear, had fallen on