he didn't come home," said Randolph Rover.
"Didn't come home?"
"No."
"Didn't he send any word?" questioned Sam.
"None that I received."
"He said he was going straight home would telephone from Lockville
for the carriage to meet the last train," said Tom. "This is mighty
queer."
It was queer and for the moment the Rover boys and their uncle stared
blankly at one another.
"Something is wrong," declared Dick, presently. "And I am going to
make it my business to find out at once what it is."
CHAPTER II
AN IMPORTANT TELEGRAM
Dick Rover would not have been so much disturbed by his father's
disappearance had it not been for one thing, which was that Mr. Rover,
on leaving the closing exercises at Putnam Hall, had declared that he
would take the last train home that night. This train got into Oak Run at
one o'clock in the morning, when the station was closed and the
platform usually deserted.
"Let us ask around and see if anybody was here when the train came
in," suggested Tom.
They first appealed to Mr. Ricks, the station master, an old and crabbed
individual, who disliked the boys for the jokes they had played on him
in times past. He shook his head at once.
"Don't keep the station open that long," he grunted. "I was home an' in
bed, an' I don't know anything about your father."
"Was anybody around the station, that you know of?" went on Dick.
"No."
"Did any telegram come in for our family?"
"If it did I reckon Jackson would send it over, or telephone."
"Let us ask Jackson and make sure," said Sam, and led the way to the
telegraph office. The telegraph receiver was ticking away at a lively
rate, and Jackson, who had charge of the office, was taking down a
message on a blank.
"Hullo!" cried the telegrapher, as he finished and looked up. "Here is a
message for Mr. Randolph Rover hot off the wire. It won't take long to
deliver it," and he handed it over. "It's paid for," he added. "But you'll
have to sign for it," and Mr. Rover did so.
Eagerly all the Rovers read the communication, which ran as follows:
"Am following man I want to catch if possible. May be away from
home several days or a week. Very important to see man--trip this
summer depends upon it.
"ANDERSON ROVER."
"Wonder who the man can be?" mused Dick, after reading the message
twice.
"He has something to do with this matter father was going to tell us
about," returned Sam. "It's certainly a mystery."
"Well, this relieves our anxiety," said Randolph Rover. "So long as I
know nothing has happened, your father can stay away as long as, he
pleases."
"But I am dying to know what it is all about," burst out Tom, who was
always impatient to get at the bottom of things. "Uncle Randolph, do
you know what father has in mind to do this summer?"
"He talks about taking a sea trip, but where to I don't know."
"And he wants us to go along?" queried the youngest Rover.
"I believe so, Samuel."
"Hurrah! I'd like a sea trip first rate."
"Yes, but--" Mr. Rover lowered his voice. "He doesn't want anybody to
know where to. It's some kind of a secret--very important, I imagine
--something to do with a gold mine, or something of the sort. He did
not give me any particulars."
"He said he was going to let us know about it when we got home from
the Hall," said Dick. "I hope he catches his man."
"Wonder who it can be?" came from Tom.
Nobody could answer that question, and in a thoughtful mood the three
Rover boys followed their uncle to the carriage and got in. Then the
team was touched up and away they whirled, out of the village, across
Swift River, and in the direction of Valley Brook farm.
It was a beautiful day in June and never had the country looked finer.
As they swept along the well kept road Dick drew a deep breath of
satisfaction.
"This air makes a fellow feel new all over!" he declared.
"I suppose you are going to plant and grow some wonderful things this
summer, Uncle Randolph," said Tom. His uncle had studied scientific
farming for years, but had never made any tremendous success of it in
fact his experiments usually cost him considerably more than they
brought in.
"Well--er--I am trying my hand this year on some Mexican melons said
to be very fine, Thomas," was the reply.
"Mexican melons?" said the fun-loving Tom, innocently. "That puts me
in mind when I was over to Albany last I saw a pumpkin in a restaurant
window eight feet high and
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