The doctor did not answer, but turned to do what he could for the hurt man. He felt of his chest and listened to his breathing, and then administered some medicine.

“His ankle is hurt, too,” said Joe.

“Never mind the ankle just now, Joe,” was the soft answer.

There was something in the tone that alarmed the boy and he caught the physician by the arm.

“Doctor, tell me the truth!” he cried. “Is he is he going to die?”

“I am afraid so, my lad. His ribs are crushed and one of them has stuck into his right lung.”

At these words the tears sprang into the boy’s eyes and it was all he could do to keep from crying outright. Even though the old hermit had been rough in his ways, Joe thought a good deal of the man.

“Cannot you do something, doctor,” he pleaded.

“Not here. We might do something in a hospital, but he would not survive the journey. He is growing weaker every moment. Be brave, my lad. It is a terrible trial, I know, but you must remember that all things are for the best.”

Joe knelt beside the sufferer and took hold of his hand. Hiram Bodley looked at him and then at the doctor.

“I—I can’t live—I know it,” he said hoarsely. “Joe, stay by me till I die, won’t you?”

“Yes!” faltered the boy. “Oh, this is awful!”

“I’m sorry to leave you so soon, Joe—I—I thought I’d be—be able to do something for you some day.”

“You have done something for me, Uncle Hiram.”

“All I’ve got goes to you, Joe. Doctor, do you hear that?”

“I do.”

“It—it ain’t much, but it’s something. The blue box—I put it in the blue box—” Here the sufferer began to cough.

“The blue box?” came from Joe questioningly.

“Yes, Joe, all in the blue box—the papers and the money—And the blue box is—is—” Again the sufferer began to cough. “I—I want water!” he gasped.

The water was brought and he took a gulp. Then he tried to speak again, but the effort was in vain. The doctor and Joe raised him up.

“Uncle Hiram! Speak to me!” cried the boy.

But Hiram Bodley was past speaking. He had passed to the Great Beyond.

CHAPTER IV

THE SEARCH FOR THE BLUE BOX

Three days after his tragic death Hiram Bodley was buried. Although he was fairly well known in the lake region only a handful of people came to his funeral. Joe was the chief mourner, and it can honestly be said that he was much downcast when he followed the hermit to his last resting place.

After the funeral several asked Joe what he intended to do. He could not answer the question.

“Have you found that blue box?” questioned Doctor Gardner.

“No, sir, I have not thought of it.”

“Probably it contains money and papers of value, Joe.”

“I am going to look for it to-day,” said the boy. “I—I couldn’t look for it while—while—”

“I understand. Well, I trust you locate the box and that it contains all you hope for,” added the physician.

As luck would have it, Ned Talmadge’s family had just gone away on a trip to the West, so Mr. Talmadge could offer the boy no assistance. But Ned was on hand and did what he could.

“You don’t know what you’ll do next, do you, Joe?” asked Ned, as he and Joe returned to the wreck of the cabin.

“No.”

“Well, if you haven’t any money I’ll do what I can for you.”

“Thank you, Ned; you are very kind.”

“It must be hard to be thrown out on the world in this fashion,” went on the rich boy, sympathetically.

“It is hard. After all, I thought a good deal of Uncle Hiram. He was strange in his ways, but he had a good heart.”

“Wasn’t he shot in the head once by accident in the woods?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe that made him queer at times.”

“Perhaps so.”

“I’ve got six dollars and a half of my spending money saved up. You may have that if you wish,” continued Ned, generously.

“I’d rather not take it, Ned.”

“Why not?”

“If I can, I want to be independent. Besides, I think there is money around somewhere,” and Joe mentioned the missing blue box.

“You must hunt for that blue box by all means!” cried the rich boy. “I’ll help you.”

After the death of Hiram Bodley, Joe and two of the lake guides had managed to repair one room of the broken-down cabin, and from this the funeral had taken place.

The room contained a bed, a table, two benches and a few dishes and cooking utensils The floor was bare and the window was broken out. It was truly a most uninviting home.

“Of course you are not going to stay here, now you are alone?” said Ned, after a look around.

“I don’t know where else to go, Ned.”

“Why not move into town!”

“Perhaps I will. But I want to find that blue box before I decide on anything.”

Without delay the two boys set to work among the ruins, looking into every hole and corner they could think of and locate. They pulled away heavy boards and logs, and Joe even got a spade and dug up the ground at certain points.

“It doesn’t seem to be here,” said Ned, after an hour had passed.

“It must be here,” cried Joe.

“Perhaps it was buried under a tree.”

“That may be true. Anyway, I am certain it is somewhere around this cabin.”

After that the hunt was continued for another hour, and they visited several spots in that locality where Joe thought the blue box might have been placed. But it was all to no purpose, the box failed to come to light.

At last the two boys sat down on a bench in front of the cabin. Both were tired out, Ned especially so. Joe was much downcast and his friend did what he could to cheer him up.

“The box is bound to come to light some day,” said Ned. “That is, unless some of those men carried it off.”

“What men, Ned?”

“The fellows who helped to mend the cabin just before the funeral.”

“Oh, I don’t think they would steal the box. Bart Andrews and Jack Thompson are as honest as the day is long.”

“Well, it’s mighty queer you can’t find some trace of the blue box.”

The boys talked the matter over for some time, and then Ned announced that he must go home.

“You can go with me if you wish,” he said. “It will be better than staying here all alone.”

But Joe declined the offer.

“I’ll stay here, and begin the hunt again the first thing in the morning,” he said.

“Well, if you want anything, come and see me, Joe; won’t you?”

“I will, Ned.”

Ned had come over in his own boat and now Joe walked down to the lake with him. His friend gone, the hermit’s boy returned to the dilapidated cabin.

He was hungry but he had no heart to eat. He munched some bread and cheese which a neighbor had brought over. He felt utterly alone in the great worlds and when he thought of this a strange feeling came over him.

It was a bitter night for the poor boy, but when morning came his mind was made up. He would make his own way in the world, asking aid from no one, not even Ned.

“And if I can’t find the blue box I’ll get along without it,” he told himself.

As soon as it was light he procured breakfast and then started on another hunt for the missing box. The entire day was spent in the search, but without results. Towards night, Joe went down to the lake. Here he caught a couple of small fish, which he fried for his supper.

All told, Joe had exactly a dollar and a half of his own and nine dollars which he had found in the hermit’s pocketbook.

“Ten dollars and a half,” he mused, as he counted the amount over. “Not very much to go out into the world with. If I want to do anything in town I’ll have to buy some clothes.”

From this it will be surmised that Joe was thinking of giving up his roving life around the lake and mountains, and this was true.

Hunting and fishing appealed to him only in an uncertain way, and he longed to go forth into the busy world and make something of himself.

He had two suits of clothing, but both were very much worn, and so were his shoes and his cap. Hiram Bodley had left some old clothing, but they were too big for the boy.

“I guess I’ll get Jasok the peddler to come up here and make me an offer for what is here,” he told himself.

Jasok was a Hebrew peddler who drove around through the lake region, selling tinware and doing all sorts of trading. It was time for him to visit that neighborhood and Joe went to the nearest house on the main road and asked about the man.

“He will most likely be along to-morrow, Joe,” said the neighbor.

“If he comes, Mr. Smith, will you send him over to my place? Tell him I want an offer for the things.”

“Going to sell out, Joe?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What are you going to do after that?”

“Try for some job in town.”

“That’s a good idea. Hunting and fishing isn’t what it used to be. What do you want for the things?”

“All I can get,” and a brief smile hovered on Joe’s face.

“I wouldn’t sell out too cheap. Jasok is a great fellow to drive a bargain.”

“If he won’t give me a fair price, I’ll load the things on the rowboat and sell them in town.”

“That’s an idea. Do you want to sell Hiram’s double-barrel shot gun?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll give you ten dollars for it.”

“I was going to ask twelve, Mr. Smith. It’s a pretty good gun.”

“So it is, although it is a little bit old-fashioned. Well, bring it over and I’ll allow you twelve dollars,” answered the neighbor, who was willing to assist Joe all he could.

Joe went back for the gun without delay, and received his money. Then he returned to the cabin and brought out all the goods he wished to sell.

By the middle of the next day the Hebrew peddler appeared. At first he declared that all of the things Joe had to sell were not worth two dollars.

“Very well, if you think that, we won’t talk about it,” said Joe, briefly.

“Da vos all vorn out,” said Jasok. “De clothes vos rags, and de furniture an’ dishes was kracked.”

“If you don’t want them, I’ll take them to town and sell them. I am sure Moskowsky will buy them.”

Now it happened that Moskowsky was a rival peddler who also boasted of the ownership of a second-hand store. To think that the goods might go to this man nettled Jasok exceedingly.

“Vell, I likes you, Cho,” he said. “I vos your friend, an’ I gif you dree dollars for dem dings.”

“You can have them for ten dollars,” answered the boy.

A long talk followed, and in the end the Hebrew peddler agreed to pay seven dollars and a half, providing Joe would help to carry the goods to the main road, where the wagon had been left. The money was paid over, and by nightfall all of the goods were on the wagon, and Joe was left at the cabin with nothing but the suit on his back. But he had thirty dollars in his pocket, which he counted over with great satisfaction.

“I ought to be able to get something to do before that is gone,” he told himself. “If I don’t, it will be my own fault.”

CHAPTER V

A NEW SUIT OF CLOTHES

On the following day it rained early in the morning, so Joe had to wait until noon before he left the old cabin. He took with him all that remained of his possessions, including the precious pocketbook with the thirty dollars. When he thought of the blue box he sighed.

“Perhaps it will never come to light,” he told himself. “Well, if it does not I’ll have to make the best of it.”

Two o’clock found him on the streets of Riverside, which was a town of fair size. During the summer months many visitors were in the place and the hotels and boarding houses were crowded.

There was one very fine clothing store in Riverside, but Joe did not deem it best, with his limited capital, to go there for a suit. Instead he sought out a modest establishment on one of the side streets.

Just ahead of him was an Irish couple who had evidently not been in this country many years. The man entered the store awkwardly, as if he did not feel at home. Not so his wife, who walked a little in advance of her husband.

“Have you got any men’s coats?” said she to the clerk who came forward to wait on the pair. “If I can get one cheap for me husband here I’ll buy one.”

“Oh, yes, madam,” was the ready reply. “We have the best stock in town, by all odds. You can’t fail to be suited.”

So saying, he led the way to a counter piled high with the articles called for, and hauled them over.

“There,” said he, pulling out one of a decidedly ugly pattern. “There is one of first quality cloth. It was made for a gentleman of this town, but did not exactly fit him, and so we’ll sell it cheap.”

“And what is the price?”

“Three dollars.”

“Three dollars!” exclaimed the Irish lady, lifting up her hands in extreme astonishment.

“Three dollars! You’ll be afther thinkin’ we’re made of money, sure! I’ll give you a dollar and a half.”

“No, ma’am, we don’t trade in that way. We don’t very often take half what we ask for an article.”

“Mike,” said she, “pull off yer coat an’ thry it on. Three dollars, and it looks as if it was all cotton.”

“Not a thread of cotton in that,” was the clerk’s reply.

“Not wan, but a good many, I’m thinkin’,” retorted the Irish lady, as she helped her husband draw on the coat. It fitted tolerably well and Mike seemed mightily pleased with his transformation.

“Come,” said the wife. “What will ye take?”

“As it’s you, I’ll take off twenty-five cents,” replied the clerk.

“And sell it to me for two dollars?” inquired his customer, who had good cause for her inaccurate arithmetic.

“For two dollars and seventy-five cents.”

“Two dollars and seventy-five cents! It’s taking the bread out of the childer’s mouths you’d have us, paying such a price as that! I’ll give you two twenty-five, an’ I’ll be coming again some time.”

“We couldn’t take so low as two twenty-five, ma’am. You may have it for two dollars and a half.”

After another ineffectual attempt to get it for two dollars and a quarter, the Irish woman finally offered two dollars and forty-five cents, and this offer was accepted.

She pulled out a paper of change and counted out two dollars and forty cents, when she declared that she had not another cent. But the clerk understood her game and coolly proceeded to put the coat back on the pile. Then the woman very opportunely found another five-cent piece stored away in the corner of her pocket.

“It’s robbin’ me, ye are,” said she as she paid it over.

“Oh, no, ma’am, you are getting a great bargain,” answered the clerk.

Joe had witnessed the bargaining with a good deal of quiet amusement. As soon as the Irish couple had gone the clerk came toward the boy.

“Well, young man, what can I do for you?” he asked, pleasantly.

“I want a suit of clothing. Not an expensive suit, but one guaranteed to be all wool.”

“A light or a dark suit?”

“A dark gray.”

“I can fit you out in a fine suit of this order,” and the clerk pointed to several lying in a heap nearby.

“I don’t want that sort. I want something on the order of those in the window marked nine dollars and a half.”

“Oh, all right.”

Several suits were brought forth, and one was found that fitted Joe exceedingly well.

“You guarantee this to be all wool?” asked the boy.

“Every thread of it.”

“Then I’ll take it.”

“Very well; the price is twelve dollars.”

“Isn’t it like that in the window?”

“On that order, but a trifle better.”

“It seems to me to be about the same suit. I’ll give you nine dollars and a half.”

“I can’t take it. I’ll give it to you for eleven and a half. That is our best figure.”

“Then I’ll go elsewhere for a suit,” answered Joe, and started to leave the clothing establishment.

“Hold on, don’t be so fast!” cried the clerk, catching him by the arm. “I’ll make it eleven and a quarter.”

“Not a cent more than the advertised price, nine and a half,” replied Joe, firmly.

“Oh, but this isn’t the same suit.”

“It’s just like it, to my eye. But you needn’t sell it for that if you don’t want it. Mason & Harris are offering some bargains, I believe.”

“You can get a better bargain here than anywhere in this town, or in Philadelphia either,” answered the clerk, who did not intend to let his prospective customer get away. “We’ll make it an even eleven dollars and say no more about it.”

Instead of answering Joe started once more for the door.

“Hold on!”

“I haven’t got time.”

“Make it ten and a half. At that price we are losing exactly half a dollar on that suit.”

“Not a cent over what I offered.”

“We can’t sell suits at such a loss. It would ruin us.”

“Then don’t do it. I think Mason & Harris have some good suits very cheap. And they are quite up-to-date, too,” added Joe.

“Our suits are the best in town, young man. Take this one for an even ten dollar bill.”

“I will if you’ll throw in one of those half dollar caps,” answered our hero.

“Well, have your own way, but it’s a sacrifice,” grumbled the clerk.

He wanted to wrap up the suit, but, afraid he might substitute something else, Joe insisted upon donning the suit then and there and likewise the new cap. Then he had the old articles of wearing apparel done up into a bundle and paid over the ten dollars.

“You’re pretty smart after a bargain,” said the clerk.

“I’ve got to be—when I strike such fellows as you,” was the reply.

“You got a better bargain than that Irish woman did.”

“I did—if the suit is all wool. But if it’s cotton, I’m stuck,” returned our hero, and with his bundle under his arm he walked from the store.

He had left his rowboat in charge of an old boatman named Ike Fairfield, and now he walked down to the boathouse.

“Just in time, Joe,” said the old boatman. “Want to earn a dollar?”

“To be sure I do,” answered our hero.

“A party of ladies want a long row around the lake. You can have the job.”

“All right, Ike.”

“I charged them a dollar and a quarter. I’ll keep the quarter for my commission.”

“That is fair.”

“One of the ladies said she wanted somebody that looked pretty decent. I think you’ll fill the bill with that new suit.”

“I didn’t expect to wear the suit out on the lake, but in this case I’ll keep it on,” answered Joe.

“I find it pays to keep well dressed, when you take out the summer boarders,” answered the old boatman. “And it pays to keep the boats in good shape, too.”

“Where am I to get the party?”

“Over to the dock of Mallison’s Hotel. One of the ladies is Mallison’s niece.”

“Why don’t they take a hotel boat?”

“All engaged, two days ago. It’s a busy season. But I’ve got to be going. You had better go over to the dock at once. They want to go out at three o’clock sharp.”

“Very well, I’ll be on hand,” answered our hero.

CHAPTER VI

AN ACCIDENT ON THE LAKE

Joe certainly presented a neat appearance when he rowed over to the hotel dock. Before going he purchased a new collar and a dark blue tie, and these, with his new suit and new cap, set him off very well.

The boat had been cleaned in the morning, and when the ladies appeared they inspected the craft with satisfaction.

“What a nice clean boat,” said Mabel Mallison, the niece of the proprietor of the hotel.

“And a nice clean boatman, too,” whispered one of her friends. “I couldn’t bear that man we had day before yesterday, with his dirty hands and the tobacco juice around his mouth.”

The ladies to go out were four in number, and two sat in the bow and two in the stern. It made quite a heavy load, but as they were not out for speed our hero did not mind it.

“We wish to go up to Fern Rock,” said Mabel Mallison. “They tell me there are some beautiful ferns to be gathered there.”

“There are,” answered Joe. “I saw them last week.”

“And I wish to get some nice birch bark if I can,” said another of the ladies.

“I can get you plenty of it.”

Joe rowed along in his best style, and while doing so the ladies of the party asked him numerous questions concerning the lake and vicinity. When Fern Rock was reached, all went ashore, and our hero pointed out the ferns he had seen, and dug up such as the others wished to take along. An hour was spent over the ferns, and in getting some birch bark, and then they started on the return for the hotel.

“I’d like to row,” cried one of the ladies, a rather plump personage.

“Oh, Jennie, I don’t think you can!” cried another.

“Of course I can,” answered Jennie, and sprang up from her seat to take the oars.

“Be careful!” came in a warning from Joe, as the boat began to rock.

“Oh, I’m not afraid!” said the plump young lady, and leaned forward to catch hold of one oar. Just then her foot slipped and she fell on the gunwale, causing the boat to tip more than ever. As she did this, Mabel Mallison, who was leaning over the side, gazing down into the clear waters of the lake, gave a shriek.

“Oh, save me!” came from her, and then she went over, with a loud splash.

Joe was startled, and the ladies left in the boat set up a wail of terror.

“She will be drowned!”

“Oh, save her! Save her, somebody!”

“It is my fault!” shrieked the plump young lady. “I tipped the boat over!”

Joe said nothing, but looked over the side of the boat. He saw the body of Mabel Mallison not far away. But it was at the lake bottom and did not offer to rise.

“It’s queer she doesn’t come up,” he thought.

Then he gave a second look and saw that the dress of the unfortunate one was caught in some sharp rocks. Without hesitation he dived overboard, straight for the bottom.

It was no easy matter to unfasten the garment, which was caught in a crack between two heavy stones. But at the second tug it came free, and a moment later both our hero and Mabel Mallison came to the surface.

“Oh!” cried two of the ladies in the row-boat. “Is she drowned?”

“I trust not,” answered Joe. “Sit still, please, or the boat will surely go over.”

As best he could Joe hoisted Mabel into the craft and then clambered in himself. As he did so the unfortunate girl gave a gasp and opened her eyes.

“Oh!” she murmured.

“You are safe now, Mabel!” said one of her companions.

“And to think it was my fault!” murmured the plump young lady. “I shall never forgive myself as long as I live!”

Mabel Mallison had swallowed some water, but otherwise she was unhurt. But her pretty blue dress was about ruined, and Joe’s new suit did not look near as well as it had when he had donned it.

“Let us row for the hotel,” said one of the young ladies. “Are you all right?” she asked of Joe.

“Yes, ma’am, barring the wetting.”

“It was brave of you to go down after Mabel.”

“Indeed it was!” cried that young lady. “If it hadn’t been for you I might have been drowned.” And she gave a deep shudder.

“I saw she was caught and that’s why I went over after her,” answered our hero simply. “It wasn’t so much to do.”

All dripping as he was, Joe caught up the oars of the boat and sent the craft in the direction of the hotel at a good speed. That she might not take cold, a shawl was thrown over Mabel’s wet shoulders.

The arrival of the party at the hotel caused a mild sensation. Mabel hurried to her room to put on dry clothing, and Joe was directed to go around to the kitchen. But when the proprietor of the place had heard what Joe had done for his niece he sent the lad to a private apartment and provided him with dry clothing belonging to another who was of our hero’s size.

“That was a fine thing to do, young man,” said the hotel proprietor, when Joe appeared, dressed in the dry garments, and his own clothing had been sent to the laundry to be dried and pressed.

“I’m glad I was there to do it, Mr. Mallison.”

“Let me see, aren’t you Hiram Bodley’s boy?”

“I lived with Mr. Bodley, yes.”

“That is what I mean. It was a terrible accident that killed him. Are you still living at the tumbled-down cabin?”

“No, sir. I’ve just sold off the things, and I am going to settle in town.”

“Where?”

“I haven’t decided that yet. I was going to hunt up a place when Ike Fairfield gave me the job of rowing out the young ladies.”

“I see. You own the boat, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You ought to be able to make a fair living, taking out summer boarders.”

“I suppose so, but that won’t give me anything to do this winter.”

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