“But just the same I’m going to send a telegram and see if I can find out anything,” he said, jumping up and going to the telephone. “Hope the Skowhegan office isn’t closed.” After some delay he finally got the office and sent a wire to Mr. Dale asking if he had heard from Rex. “There, we ought to get an answer as soon as the office is open in the morning,” he declared as he hung up. Tired though he was, it was long before Bob slept that night. Over and over again he told himself that Rex was probably safe at home by now and that he was foolish to worry. But the fear that all might not be well with him persisted in spite of himself. He well knew the vastness of the Maine woods, and the Indian guides were not always to be trusted. But finally, after he had heard the clock down in the office strike eleven, twelve and one, he fell into a troubled sleep. It was nearly eight o’clock when he awoke. Jack was still sleeping and, without waking him, Bob hurriedly dressed and, running down to the office, he called the telegraph office at Skowhegan. But no answer to his wire had been received. He requested the operator to call him as soon as the reply came, and then went into the dining room and ordered breakfast. He had hardly started on the meal when Jack joined him. “Heard anything?” the latter asked. “Not yet,” Bob replied. “Mebby your message wasn’t delivered till this morning,” Jack ventured. Just then, before Bob had time to answer, he heard the ’phone ringing in the office. “That may be it,” he said, as he jumped from his chair. He returned in a moment with a serious look on his face. “Get it?” Jack asked. “Yes. It was from Mrs. Dale,” Bob replied slowly. “She says that Mr. Dale is sick with pneumonia and that nothing has been heard from Rex.” Bob sank down in his chair, and for a moment the two looked at each other without a word. The same thought was in both of their minds. At length Jack said: “Guess it’s up to us to get busy, old man.” “Just what I was thinking,” Bob replied soberly. “How far from here is that lake and how do we get there?” Jack asked, as though the matter were already settled. “Let’s see,” Bob replied slowly. “It’s twenty-eight miles from here to Jackman. We can probably get a ride that far, but from there we’ll have to strike off cross country and it must be all of eighty miles or more from there, and I don’t believe there’s even a house on the way.” “I guess it’s a pretty wild country, but we’ve been in wild country before,” Jack said, as he drank the last of his coffee. “Come on. What’s the first move?” he asked, as he pushed back his chair. “The first thing is to find out what time the stage leaves here for Jackman. Then we’ll have to go over to Sim’s and see what we can do in the way of picking up an outfit.” And Bob, followed by his brother, went into the office, where he found the proprietor busily engaged in sweeping the floor. “What time does the stage leave for Jackman?” Bob asked.