Harry did, and to prove it she enumerated them. Chub applauded her memory. “All I remember,” he said, “was something about sparks.” It was almost twenty minutes later when the white horse and the dilapidated buggy rattled around the corner and pulled up for a moment in front of the watering-trough. In the buggy sat Bennie and no one else. He grinned joyously. “She didn’t come,” he announced. “Get ap!” “Hold on!” cried Chub, hurrying to the curb. “Are you sure she wasn’t on the train?” “Course I am.” “Didn’t she send any--any message or anything?” “No, not that I know of.” “When is the next train?” “’Bout ’leven o’clock, I guess. Get ap.” “Well, now what are we going to do?” demanded Chub, as the white horse ambled away again. Harry shook her head. “I’d like to tell Jennie what I think of her,” said Chub aggrievedly. “Nice way for her to act. We can’t sit here until eleven o’clock and wait for her. We’ll just have to shut up shop.” “But how will she get into the house?” asked Harry. “I don’t know.” Chub frowned thoughtfully at the crumbling bricks. “I suppose we might leave the key across the street and pin a note on the door telling her to go there and get it. I guess that’s all we can do, eh?” Harry agreed that it was. So they saw to the fastenings of the window, took their iron kettle into which were packed their other purchases, wrote a line on a paper bag, and locked the door behind them. Then Harry supplied a pin, and Chub posted the note, which read: JENNIE: The key to the store is at the white house right across the street. At the white house they had some difficulty in explaining their errand to an elderly woman who was very deaf and very suspicious, but finally they accomplished it and went off, leaving the key in her hands. “There’s a chance that Jennie won’t be able to make that old woman understand what she wants,” growled Chub. “Jennie may have to sleep on the sidewalk to-night. Well, we’ve done what we could.” “And then maybe she won’t come at all,” said Harry, hopefully. “What good will that do?” Chub asked. “Why, then we can keep store again to-morrow. Wouldn’t you just love to?” “H’m,” said Chub, doubtfully. CHAPTER XIX A MIDNIGHT ALARM When they reached camp and the _Slow Poke_, Dick and Roy were busy about the fire, while Dr. Emery, in a pair of old gray knicker-bockers and a blue flannel shirt, was cleaning fish on a stone at the edge of the water. “Look here at this one, Chub!” called the doctor, proudly, as he held one of his trophies up by its tail. Chub examined it with interest and had to acknowledge that it was pretty nearly as big as his own famous fish. “You didn’t get so very many, though, did you?” he asked.