"Or Josiah Crabtrees," said Dick, referring to another teacher, who had
been made to leave Putnam Hall, and who had wanted to marry the widow
Stanhope, in an endeavor to get control of the money that was coming to
Dora. Crabtree's misdeeds had landed him in prison, where he was likely
to stay for some time to come.

While the meal was still in progress the boys began the recital of
their many adventures, and this recital was kept up until a late hour.
It was astonishing how much they had to tell, and how interesting it
proved to the listeners.

"You might make a book of it," said Anderson Rover. "It equals our
adventures in the jungles of Africa."

"I am going to write it out some day," answered Dick. "And, maybe,
I'll get the story printed. The trouble is, I can't end the tale
properly."

"How is that, Dick?" asked his Uncle Randolph. "You were all saved.
Isn't that a proper ending for any book?"

"Yes, but what of the villain? Baxter didn't show himself, and that is
no ending at all. He should have fallen over a cliff, or been shot, or
something like that."

"And we should have married the three girls," put in fun-loving Tom.
"That would make the story even more complete."

"Well, things do not happen in real life as they do in story books,"
said the parent. "It is likely you will never hear of Dan Baxter
again. But we may hear from his father."

"His father!" exclaimed the three youths in concert.

"Why, Arnold Baxter is in prison," added Sam.

"He was, up to five days ago, when they took him to the hospital to
undergo some sort of an operation. At the hospital the operation was
postponed for a day, and during the night he slipped away from the
institution and disappeared."

"Well, I never!" burst out Dick. "Isn't he the slick one, though!
Just when you think you've got him hard and fast, you haven't at all."

"Haven't they any trace of him?" asked Sam.

"None, so far as I have heard. There was a report that he had gone to
New York and taken passage on a ship bound for Liverpool, but at
present the ship is on the Atlantic, so the authorities can do nothing."

"I hope they catch him."

"We all hope that, Sam."

For a few days the three boys did nothing but take it easy. It was
pleasant weather, and they roamed around the farm in company with their
father and their uncle, or with Alexander Pop, the colored man of work.
As my old readers know, Pop had been in former days a waiter at Putnam
Hall, and