So there then was indeed a way up that frowning mountain opposite the camp. It was up the less precipitous slope, the slope which did not face the lake. The pencil marking had been made to emphasize the fainter printed line. "Humph," said Tom, interested. "There's always _some_ way up a mountain.... Maybe the light we saw up there ... let's have a squint at that letter, will you?" "Have we got a right to read it?" Winton asked. "We may be able to save a life by it," said Tom. "Sure." But the letter did not reveal anything of interest. It was, in fact, only the last page of a letter which had been preserved on account of some trifling memorandums on the back of the sheet. What there was of the letter read as follows: hope you will come back to England some time or other. I suppose America seems strange after all these years. You'll have to be content with shooting Indians and buffaloes now. But we'll save a fox or two for you. And don't forget how to ride horseback and we'll try not to forget about the rattle wagons. REGGY. "That's very kind of Reggy," said Roy. "Indians and buffaloes! Poor Indians. If he ever comes here, we'll teach him to shoot the shutes. If he's a good shot maybe we'll let him shoot the rapids." "They all think America is full of Indians," said Winton. "Indian pudding," said Roy; "_mmm, mmm!_" "Well, let's see the newspaper," said Tom. "I don't suppose there's anything particular in that. Somebody that lived in England has been trying to go up the mountain--_maybe_. That's about all we know. We don't know that, even. But anyway, he hasn't come back." "Maybe he's up there shooting Indians and buffaloes," said Roy. "We should worry." "When was it he came here?" Tom asked. "'Bout several days ago, I reckon," said Mr. Berry. "That light's been up there all summer," Winton said. "Until to-night," Tom added. For a few moments no one spoke. "Well, let's see the paper," said Tom, as he took it and began looking it over. He had not glanced at many of the headings when one attracted his attention. Following it was an article which he read carefully. AUTOIST KILLS CHILD Negligence and Reckless Driving Responsible for Accident DRIVER ESCAPES An accident which will probably prove fatal occurred on the road above Hillsburgh yesterday when a car described as a gray roadster ran down and probably mortally injured Willy Corbett, the eight-year-old son of Thomas Corbett of that place. Two laborers in a nearby field, who saw the accident, say that the machine was running on the left side of the road where the child was playing and that but for this reckless violation of the traffic law, the little fellow would not have been run down. The driver was apparently holding to the left of the road, because the running was better there.