"It didn't take us long to get to Crazy Creek Camp, I can tell you." Bob, glancing from one to another of the group about the fireplace, saw in each face an eager interest in the tale he had to tell. But in Meg's face there was more than interest, and suddenly Bob realized that the finding of the lost box was of vital importance to the mountain girl, while, to him, it had been merely an exciting adventure, the mystery of which had lured him on. After a thoughtful moment, he continued: "We found most of the cabins unnumbered, or, if they had once been so marked, time and storms had done away with the numerals. But we did find a tunnel above which the figures 10 had been chipped out of solid stone. The opening of the small tunnel was closed, however, by red rocks that had fallen evidently in a landslide. I suggested that we lift them away one by one, but Gerry thought it a waste of time as the carving on the handle had been 'Cabin 10' and not Tunnel 10. But I was not so sure, and so we went to work and in half an hour we had an opening large enough to enter one at a time. I had my flashlight with me, and stooping, I looked in. Strangely enough, I saw a faint gleam of daylight at the other end." Bob paused and glanced about the group to make sure that they were all properly curious before he continued: "The tunnel was not high enough for even Gerry to stand in erect and so on all fours we crept through it. Since the opening had been stopped up I did not fear meeting wild creatures, but as we neared the other end, the daylight grew brighter and then to our great surprise we came out upon a wide ledge which hung there in the most dizzying manner. On it was a rustic cabin, and back of that a fenced-in dooryard. Surely, we decided, this was Cabin 10. There was no way of reaching it except through the tunnel, as the mountain wall was almost perpendicular above and below the ledge. "We were greatly elated and at once tried the door and found it unlocked. There was only one room and it looked like the den of a student. Books and papers were everywhere in evidence; dust-covered and yellowed with the years. On the desk a bottle of dried ink was uncorked and a rusted pen lying there seemed to indicate that someone had suddenly stopped writing, and, for some reason, had never again taken up the pen. As further proof of this we found a letter which was lying near, with even the last sentence unfinished. It is addressed to 'My dear petite daughter--Eulalie.' We didn't stop to read it because it was getting late and so we started for home." Meg, no longer able to keep silent, leaned forward, asking eagerly, "Bob, may I see the letter that my father left for me?" "_Your father?_" Jane and Merry exclaimed almost simultaneously. Even then Meg's calm was not outwardly disturbed.