"Oh, I know that. But I don't intend to give him the chance."

"Speaking of our enemies, I wonder what ever became of Link Merwell,"
said Phil. "He seems to have dropped out of sight completely."

"I rather imagine he has left the country," returned Roger. "For if he
was around at all, some of the school fellows would be sure to hear of
him. Say, he certainly was a bad egg."

"Yes, but not as bad as Nick Jasniff," said Dave. "I am glad they locked
that fellow up. He was an out-and-out criminal."

"Let us drop those fellows and get back to this lost mine," interrupted
Phil. "If we are really going out to Montana we ought to make some sort
of preparations for the trip."

"Oh, we've got two weeks to do that in, Phil," answered Roger. "And
please to remember, Fourth of July is coming, and I am expecting several
of the other fellows here to help celebrate. We can fix it up about that
western trip after the Fourth."

"Who are coming, Roger, did you hear?" asked Dave.

"Shadow Hamilton for one, and perhaps Buster Beggs and Luke Watson. I
asked some of the other fellows, but they had other engagements. Old
John went down to the post-office for letters a while ago. Maybe he'll
bring news."

"Here he comes now," cried Dave, as he saw a colored man-of-all-work
coming along the road that ran in front of the Morr estate. "And he's
got a bundle of letters."

All three boys ran across the broad lawn to meet the colored man.

"Any letters for me, John?"

"Don't forget me!"

"Who's the pink envelope for?"

"Letters fo' all ob yo' young gen'men, I 'spect," returned the
man-of-all-work. "Mebbe yo' kin sort 'em out better'n I kin, Massa
Roger," he added. "My eyesight ain't no better'n it ought to be." And he
handed the bunch of mail over to the senator's son.

"One for Phil and two for Dave," said Roger, looking the mail over. "And
four for myself. Pretty good. Here, John, take the rest into the house."

Without ceremony the three chums returned to their resting place on the
shady lawn and began the perusal of their letters.

"Mine is from my father," said Phil. "He is going to take a trip on one
of his ships to Nova Scotia and he wants to know if I wish to go along."

"One of these letters is from Gus Plum," said Dave. "He is going to
Europe with his folks. The other letter is from--er--from Crumville."

"I'll wager it is from Jessie Wadsworth," remarked Phil, slyly. "Come,
Dave, what does the lady fair say?"

"