"Bamboo is always
open and hollow between joints."

"Let's get something and press the ends in," suggested Grace. "It
might be something breakable."

"Or explosive," ventured Madaline, who had not forgotten her first
night's experience at the studio.

Mary was turning the piece of cane upside down, shaking it, listening
for any rattle within, and otherwise examining it most carefully.
Meanwhile Cleo had rescued the wrappings, and was trying to connect the
line of print. She smoothed out the torn, yellow pieces, and presently
her eye fell upon a ringed line paragraph, the ring being a penciled
circle, usually made to attract the eye to a special item.

"Let's see what's marked here," she suggested, going closer to the
window for better light. "Oh, look, Mary," she exclaimed again, "this
tells of an exploring expedition leaving New York. Maybe that is a
report of your folks and the professor! See, it reads," and she
pressed the very much crinkled pieces to something of smoothness.

"'Left for the tropics to hunt orchids. Professor Blake and party----'
Now, that's torn out into a real hole, and we can't get the names of
the party. Did you ever see anything so aggravating?"

"But Professor Blake," repeated Mary. "That isn't our professor!"

"Didn't you say his name was not Benson?" Cleo reminded her.

"Yes, I knew it was not Benson, but I thought it was," she hesitated.
Her grandie had not given his permission to the publication of his real
name. "At least," continued Mary, "I didn't know it was Blake."

"How foolish we are!" exclaimed Cleo. "Surely there would have been
more than one professor on that trip. And this may only, after all, be
an item of general interest. But don't you think, Mary, we had better
take it along and read it carefully when we have time?"

"That's a good idea," agreed Mary, "and I think I had better do the
same thing with this shiny stick. It may be some kind of flute, but I
would not like to try to blow on it. So many things from the tropics
are poisonous. Let's wrap it up again," she suggested.

"But not in this paper," objected Cleo. "I want to read all of this
again, and it must not be further damaged. Here, Shep," to the
faithful dog, who lay nose deep in a big soft rug, "come along and I'll
get you a nice cool drink. You are cooled off now, and I know you want
a drink after that tramp over the mountain."

The shaggy shepherd dog followed Cleo to the faucet that