doubled that amount, besides earning his own living, why he was to come
into two-thirds of his uncle's fortune. Some of our Carson people who
know folks over in Sagamore where the uncle lived tell whopping big
stories about the size of that fortune. I heard one man say he reckoned
it was as much as two hundred thousand dollars, in all."

"The funny part of it is," resumed Max, shaking his head in a way rather
odd for him, "that immediately after Roland received his two thousand in
cash he disappeared from the scene. That was almost two years ago; and
from that day nobody in Sagamore has ever had a peep at him. The fact is
he might almost be dead. Once his other aunt, Mrs. Hopewell, who lives
now in Carson, had a few lines from Roland. He simply said he was alive
and well, and that he had hopes of seeing her again one of these fine
days."

"Yes, that's r-r-right," burst out Toby, in a disgusted tone, "but not a
p-peep did he give about what he was d-d-doing, or if he meant to show
up and c-c-claim his f-f-fine f-f-fortune. And all she could make out
was that the p-p-postmark on the l-l-letter was Piedmont, N.Y., which
on looking up we f-f-found was away up here in the h-h-heart of the old
Adirondacks."

"Well," said Max, still working industriously away, "Mrs. Hopewell is
getting very much concerned about Roland. Somehow she seemed to fancy
the boy, though no one else thought he'd ever amount to anything,
because he used to like to wander around in the woods all the while, or
go fishing, instead of studying. But I guess those people hadn't ever
been boys themselves; and all of us can appreciate this liking for the
open that Roland showed."