Noon of the next day found Joe walking along the lake shore some distance below the camp. On the outing the day before he had lost a glove and he was trying to locate it in the snow. “I’m pretty sure I dropped it somewhere along here,” he told himself. “I know I had it on just before we came to those bushes yonder.” He was still some distance from the bushes when he espied a dark object hanging from one of the branches, among some dried leaves. Thinking it was either the lost glove or the remains of an old bird’s nest, he went over to investigate. The next instant he set up a shout of joy: “The pocketbook! The pocketbook at last!” He was right; the pocketbook was there, hanging down from the long string which had been wrapped around it—a dingy, brown affair, well worn at all of the corners and containing two pockets. With a heart that thumped wildly in his breast, Joe took hold of the pocketbook to examine it. Scarcely had he done so when he gave a groan and his hopes fell as rapidly as they had risen. The pocketbook was empty. It contained absolutely nothing at all. “Sold!” he muttered, laconically. “Sold, and just when I thought I had it!” “What have you found, Joe?” came in Harry’s voice, and a moment later his brother came up. “Here is Hiram Skeetles’ pocketbook—but it is empty.” “You don’t say!” Harry looked at the object a moment. “Was it hanging like that when you first saw it?” “Yes.” “Then perhaps the contents dropped out, or was shaken out by the wind.” “To be sure.” Joe went down on his knees at the roots of the bush and began to scrape away the snow. “I hope we do find something.” Harry began to assist, and soon the snow was gone and they began to dig in among the dead leaves and sticks. Then Joe hauled up several cards with Hiram Skeetles’ name on them and a memorandum of some property located near the lake. “Here is something belonging to old Skeetles,” said he. “Here is another paper,” said Harry. “It’s a bill of sale for a town lot,” he added, looking it over hastily. An instant later Joe came across a large envelope containing several legal-looking documents. He brushed the dirt from the covering and tried to make out some handwriting on it. “The papers!” he shouted, joyfully. “Grandfather Anderson’s papers as sure as you are born!” “Let me see!” ejaculated Harry, and bent over the find. They hauled the papers from the envelope and looked them over. Their grandfather was mentioned in a number of places, and also two plots of land they had heard their parents discuss. Clearly these were the papers that were so much needed. “We’ll take them to camp and read them over carefully,” said Joe. “And if they are what we want we had best go right home with them.” “Won’t mother and father be astonished when they get the news,” added Harry. They were soon back to camp, and here sat down to look over their find. They had just concluded to their satisfaction when Fred, who was outside cutting firewood, set up a shout: