These had been swiftly raised, however, when on the last day of school before the vacation Clancy had appeared without warning. He had retrieved his family fortunes, and was ready to pitch into work at Fardale once more. This, none the less, did not throw any light upon the mystery of Billy Mac’s dropping out. Both Merry and his father had been no little worried. Frank Merriwell, senior, had finally suggested that Chip drop around to Carsonville during vacation. Although head over ears in track and field work, Chip had assented gladly. Billy Mac sent him a cordial invitation to come along, and he had promptly arrived. The McQuade home was a comfortable, old-fashioned residence on a hill near the river, just outside of town. During his first day, Merry had asked no questions, but his eyes had been busy. He noted the worried, uneasy air of hospitable Mrs. McQuade, and the nervousness of his friend. It was not hard to guess that the estate of the senior McQuade had fallen into difficulties, though not a word had been said on the subject. “Let’s have it, old man,” said Merry gravely. “Nothing helps a fellow so much as being able to spout out his trouble to some one else.” “I know,” sighed Billy Mac hopelessly. “But this is different. I s’pose you remember about--about dad dying just before Christmas holidays?” “Yes,” said Chip sympathetically. “And we were all mighty sorry to hear of it, old fellow.” “Well,” went on the other, “things didn’t look so bad just then. Mother had a thousand dollars of insurance money, while the house and orchard was ours. We’ve got some mighty fine fruit trees there, and they promised to take care of things pretty well.” “I should think they would! Those apples you dug up yesterday were something fine, Billy Mac.” “They were the last of the ones we buried last fall, Chip. We shipped off some of them, for with the apples and other things we get high prices from the city. They seem to appreciate getting extra fine fruit.” “Of course they do. The trouble with most farmers is that they don’t take pains enough to market their crop right, and take care of it on the way. But go ahead.” Billy sighed again, and glanced heavily at the river. “This here Colonel Carson,” he broke out, “suddenly produced a mortgage on the house and orchard for two thousand dollars. That was just before vacation, when mother wrote for me to come home.” “But you knew that he had the mortgage?” queried Chip, frowning. “We thought dad had paid it. You see, dad--well, dad was kind of careless about money. Just the same, we _knew_ he had paid that mortgage. Mother could find no receipt, however, and Carson vowed that it had never been paid.” “Somebody ought to teach him something,” said Merry warmly. “Hadn’t you any proof whatever?”