"I wish they knew we were safe," said Dave. "Now that they don't know it they may worry, thinking we are snowed in somewhere along the road." "Well, we've got to make the best of it," answered Ben. "I did hope to speak to mother, to ask her how father was, and to let her know that we were all right." "It looks to me, Ben, as if this blizzard might last for several days or a week." "So it does. But sometimes these storms clear away almost as rapidly as they come." The two youths returned to the others and announced the failure of their effort to get into communication with Crumville. This was disheartening to Laura and Jessie, but as it could not be helped the girls said they would make the best of it. Then Laura and Dave went off with the doctor and his wife, to obtain accommodations for the whole party. It was learned that Dr. Renwick had a fine apartment on the second floor, and that there were two rooms adjoining which were vacant. These were turned over to the four girls. The boys were accommodated with two rooms on the floor above. "Not quite as good as they might be," observed Dave, when he and his chums inspected their rooms, which were directly under the roof of the country hotel. "But they are much better than nothing, and, as the sailors say, 'any port in a storm.'" "Oh, this is plenty good enough," returned Phil. "But I am glad the girls are on the floor below. Those rooms are much better than these." As the boys had no baggage, there was nothing for them to arrange in the rooms which had been assigned to them, so after a hasty look around they started to go downstairs again, to rejoin the girls in the parlor. As the boys passed the room next to the one which Dave and Ben had elected to occupy, the door of the apartment was opened on a crack. Then, as the youths left the corridor to descend the stairs, the door was opened a little wider, and a young man peered out cautiously. "Well, what do you know about that!" muttered the young man to himself, after the four chums had disappeared. "Right here at this hotel, and going to occupy the room next to the one I've got! Could you beat it?" The young man was Ward Porton. CHAPTER XII TIM CRAPSEY'S PLOT "Who are you talking to, Port?" questioned a man who was resting on the bed in the room which Ward Porton occupied. "Didn't I tell you not to call me by that name, Crapsey?" returned the former moving-picture actor, as he closed the door softly and locked it. "What's the difference when we're alone?" grumbled the man called Crapsey, as he shifted himself and rubbed his eyes. "It may make a whole lot of difference," answered Porton. "I've just made a big discovery." "A discovery?" The man sat up on the edge of the bed. "Discovered how to git hold of some money, I hope. We need it."