"He's a N' York city boy, out on a visit to his uncle, a neighbor a' mine," explained Enberry. "He has a notion he wants t' see ye 'bout suthin', jest what, I don't know, but he'll tell ye. Now I've got t' go. Remember, Roger, be at th' Candee House by six o'clock." "I will," replied the boy, as Mr. Took left. "Now, my young friend, what can I do for you?" asked Mr. Vanter, pleasantly. Roger pulled from his pocket the paper containing the mysterious white crystals. He held them toward the surveyor. "What are they?" the boy asked. Mr. Vanter took them in his hand. He smelled of them, once, twice. Then, taking a tiny piece of one of the particles he touched it on the tip of his tongue. He made a wry face. "Humph!" he remarked, and tasted again. "It must be," he muttered to himself, as Roger looked anxiously on. Then the chemist got a test tube, put some of the crystals in it, and poured a little water on them. He shook the glass violently, until the white particles had all dissolved. Then he brought out several bottles of chemicals, and began his tests. Roger was much interested, and, at the conclusion of the experimenting, when Mr. Vanter put his materials aside, the boy leaned forward, and asked breathlessly: "What is it?" "You have here," said Mr. Vanter, smiling a little, "a very fine sample of--pure rock salt." "Salt?" Roger's heart went away down into his shoes. Why, he thought, should Mr. Ranquist and Mr. Dudley have been so elated over a little salt. "Just ordinary salt, though a very fine grade," repeated the surveyor. "Only salt," and there was a world of disappointment in Roger's tone. "But salt is not to be despised, by any means," went on Mr. Vanter. "If it wasn't for the salt wells, Syracuse would not be such a fine city as it is. Besides, if there was no salt, the people of the whole world would be very badly off. Is there something behind all this, Roger? Perhaps if you tell me I may be able to help you more than I can now. As it is I am working in the dark." "Then I'll tell you everything," said Roger, and he did so, from the arrival of the two strangers in Cardiff, and his suspicions of them, the manner in which he had discovered them drilling the hole, how they sought to keep him away from the spring glade, and, finally, his escape from Mr. Ranquist that morning, ending with his journey to Syracuse. "Hum," remarked Mr. Vanter at length. "Hum." He pursed up his lips, and wrinkled his forehead in deep thought as he paced rapidly back and forth in his office. Then he clapped his hands together with a resounding whack, and cried aloud: "That's it! By the Great Horn Spoon, but that's it! No wonder they want to keep it secret." "What?" asked Roger, Mr. Vanter's excitement infecting him. "What is it?"