get you a glass of
water?"

"No, I'll be all right in a minute. But this beats all, it sure does!"
replied the old lady. "Abe wrote that he was going off with a Roger Morr
to look for a lost mine, and here you are lookin' for Abe. It sure is a
puzzle."

"He wrote that he was going off with me?" ejaculated the senator's son.

"He said Roger Morr. If that's your handle----"

"It certainly is."

"This must be Link Merwell's work!" cried Dave. "Perhaps he met
Blower----"

"And impersonated Roger," finished Phil.

"Would he do that?" questioned the senator's son. "Would he dare?"

"He would, if he thought he could get away with the trick," replied
Dave. He turned to Mrs. Carmody. "Would you mind letting us see the
letter Mr. Blower sent you?"

"Sure. I'll get it. I left it on the table," was the answer, and,
getting up, the old lady went into the house. "Come in," she invited. In
her younger days she had been used to the rough life of a pioneer and
she did not stand on ceremony.

The boys went in, and presently Mrs. Carmody brought forth a letter
written in lead pencil on a half-sheet of note paper. It ran as follows:

"DEAR KATE:

"You remember I tole you about Maurice Harrisons sister, who was
married to a seanatour of the government. Well, his son, Roger Morr
has come on to look for that lost mine--wants for me to go on a
hunt with him to onse--so as it is good money I am going--start to
nite in a hour--you git Nell Davis to stay with you her an Ben I
wont be gone morn a weak or to. ABE."

"That's the letter Abe sent me yesterday," announced Mrs. Carmody. "You
see he says Roger Morr, the son of the senator. If that's you, what does
it mean?" and she looked at Roger.

"I'll tell you what it means," answered Dave. "It means that somebody
else has pretended he is Roger here--an enemy who wants to locate the
lost mine first, if he can."

"O dear! Did you ever hear the like! Who was it, do you suppose?"

"We've got a pretty good idea," said Roger. "Nobody you know. But tell
me, where did this letter come from?"

"You mean who brought it?"

"Yes."

"Billy Lane."

"Who is he?"

"Oh, a feller around town, who does all sort o' odd jobs."

"Then you don't know where Mr. Blower was when he sent it?"

"No, I don't. But I guess he wasn't very near, otherwise he would have
come here hisself, instead o' writin'--for writin' comes hard to Abe--he
never had no chanct for