The day he made the will, he started to Catskill with it so as to see his lawyer and to sign it in front of witnesses and everything. That night he didn’t come home and the next day they telephoned to Catskill and they found that he had been there and had signed his will and had it witnessed. Oh boy, you should have seen Pee-wee how he stared. “Did bandits get him?” he wanted to know. Mr. Bagley said, “No, but Beaver Chasm got him. We found him in the bottom of the chasm next day--dead.” “Jiminies!” I said. “You know Beaver Chasm, don’t you?” Mr. Bagley said. “Sure, I know it!” Pee-wee shouted. “Didn’t I stalk a turtle down there? _Suuuure_, I know it.” Mr. Bagley reached over and shook hands with Pee-wee just the same as before. I couldn’t make out whether he thought the kid was a wonderful hero for stalking a turtle, or whether he was just kind of making fun of him. I had to laugh, Pee-wee was so serious the way he shook hands. Dub and Sandy didn’t know anything about Beaver Chasm, because they were new Scouts at camp. But I knew all about it. And Pee-wee knew all about it--he even owned it. It was a wonder he never had it wrapped up and sent home. Mr. Bagley said, “Yes, sir, we found him lying in the bottom of the chasm--_dead_. Both of his legs and one of his arms were broken. We found his coat a few yards from where his body lay; it was caught on a clump of brush.” All of a sudden, Mr. Bagley leaned away over toward us and whispered, “And my father’s oilskin dispatch container with his will in it was gone. Was _gone_!” Then he sat up straight and just looked at us. I said, “Gee, that was funny.” “You call it _funny_!” Pee-wee shouted. “Don’t you even know when a thing is serious?” Mr. Bagley just kept looking at us, kind of dark and suspicious like. I saw Dub sort of move as if he was uneasy for fear Mr. Bagley was thinking we knew something about it. Then Sandy asked him if it was ever found. “It was never found,” he said, sort of slow like, and very serious. “And that’s the mystery. _The oilskin dispatch container presented to my poor father by an overseas boy who carried a message from General Pershing to the British commander in it was gone from the pocket of my father’s coat--and with it his last will and testament._” We were sort of scared, he looked at us so serious. He just kept looking at us. Then he said, “But I want you boys to know that if that will had been found, I would have been glad to sell all that woodland to Temple Camp, as sure as my name is Saul Bagley. I am for the Boy Scouts first, last and always. But I can’t be held responsible for the meanness, and the stubbornness, and the lack of public spirit of a crew of undeserving beneficiaries under a former will of my poor father, now can I?” That’s just what he said; he used dandy big words. CHAPTER VI WHERE THERE’S A WILL