They had not been seated very long before the clerk of the hotel approached the group and said to Fred, "I think I gave you a letter which belongs to some other man." "I guess you did," laughed Fred. "I don't think it belongs to me anyway. Is this the letter?" he added, as he held forth the epistle which had been the cause of so much mirth among the boys. "I don't know whether it is or not," replied the clerk. "All I know is that there is another man here, whose name is almost like yours. He is Mr. Ferdinand Button. That letter was directed to Mr. F. Button. As you had been here longer than he I thought it was for you." "Well, it isn't," said Fred. "If it was my letter I would read it to you, but I guess it belongs to Ferdinand, so you had better take it and give it to him." Laughingly Fred held out the letter which the clerk took and at once withdrew from the place. It was not long afterward before a stranger approached the boys who were still seated and said, "One of you, I am afraid had a letter to-night which belonged to me." "Yes, I guess we did," said Fred quickly, rising as he spoke. "My name is Fred Button and the clerk said that this letter was meant for Mr. Ferdinand Button." "That's my name," explained the stranger, "and the letter was for me. Did you read it?" "I shall have to acknowledge that I did," answered Fred. "I didn't suspect until I had done that that it really belonged to any one else." Somewhat confused by his confession Fred noted the bearing of the man before him more carefully. It was plain to him now that the stranger was quiet in his manner, gentlemanly in his bearing and possessed of a quick intelligence that enabled him to perceive many a thing which his younger companions might have lost. The stranger was about thirty-five years of age and his bronzed face was nearly the color of that of the captain of the _Gadabout_. "Have you been here long?" inquired John. "I came this morning." "I thought perhaps you had been on the lake--" "I have been on the lake," interrupted the stranger. "Indeed, I spend much of my time on the lake. I am sorry you had the misfortune to receive this letter which apparently was meant for me." "What makes you so sure it was for you?" inquired Fred laughingly. "It was signed 'American Brother' and was simply addressed 'Sir.' Perhaps it was meant for me after all." "No, the letter is mine," said the man quietly and as he spoke the four boys were aware that he intended to retain possession of the perplexing missive. That he was able to do so was manifest in the breadth of his shoulders and the evidences of strength which were apparent as he turned and walked away. "Whew!" whispered Grant. "I guess that man could tell some stories if he wanted to." "I hope he will want to," said George. "I know I want to hear them."