The Complete Ellery Queen Jr. Mysteries

By Ellery Queen

Two brave young sleuths connected to one of the greatest detectives of all time tackle their own cases in these eleven whodunits.

For mystery fans, the name Ellery Queen brings to mind the sophisticated amateur sleuth who helped solve some of New York City’s most confounding cases. But he wasn’t the only one in his household with an eye for crime solving.
 
Here are eleven puzzling mysteries, nine solved by Djuna, the Queen family’s quick-witted assistant, with the help of his trusty Scottie, Champ; and two solved by Gulliver Queen—the chip-off-the-old-block nephew to the legendary detective himself.
 
Djuna solves The Black Dog Mystery, The Golden Eagle Mystery, The Green Turtle Mystery, The Red Chipmunk Mystery, The Brown Fox Mystery, The White Elephant Mystery, The Yellow Cat Mystery, The Blue Herring Mystery, and The Purple Bird Mystery.
 
Gulliver solves The Mystery of the Merry Magician and The Mystery of the Vanished Victim.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Media
• Release date: Dec 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781504050357

Ellery Queen

Ellery Queen was a pen name created and shared by two cousins, Frederic Dannay (1905–1982) and Manfred B. Lee (1905–1971), as well as the name of their most famous detective. Born in Brooklyn, they spent forty-two years writing, editing, and anthologizing under the name, gaining a reputation as the foremost American authors of the Golden Age “fair play” mystery. Although eventually famous on television and radio, Queen’s first appearance came in 1928, when the cousins won a mystery-writing contest with the book that would eventually be published as The Roman Hat Mystery. Their character was an amateur detective who uses his spare time to assist his police inspector uncle in solving baffling crimes. Besides writing the Queen novels, Dannay and Lee cofounded Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, one of the most influential crime publications of all time. Although Dannay outlived his cousin by nine years, he retired Queen upon Lee’s death.

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The Complete Ellery Queen Jr. Mysteries

Ellery Queen Jr.

CONTENTS

THE BLACK DOG MYSTERY

I. The Little Black Dog

II. Mr. Boots Goes Somewhere

III. Champ Makes a New Friend

IV. The Men Who Walked Backward

V. Mr. Boots Asks Questions

VI. Djuna Borrows a Bicycle

VII. Champ Turns Himself Into a Plaid Shawl

VIII. Mr. Boots Behaves Strangely

IX. Djuna Finds a New Ally

X. Mr. Morrison Needs a Rope

XI. A Council of War

XII. Clarabelle Spoils a Picture

XIII. Voices in the Dark

XIV. The Night Grows Blacker

XV. The Black Dog Leaps

THE GOLDEN EAGLE MYSTERY

1. Alberto

2. What Champ Found in the Attic

3. The Man Who Sat Down on Nothing

4. The Stolen Nest-Egg

5. A Murder

6. The Boat-Lantern

7. Patagonia

8. The Discouraged Detectives

9. About a Pound of Sand

10. Champ and Djuna Dig In

11. Djuna Learns from Alberto

12. The Eagles’ Nest

THE GREEN TURTLE MYSTERY

1. The Haunted House

2. Night Visitors

3. Disappearance of Waterbury

4. A Hurry Call for Champ

5. Mr. Firkins Gives Advice

6. The Man with the Green Feather

7. The Parrot that Spoke Spanish

8. Djuna and Ben on the Trail

9. Little Boats Should Keep Near Shore

10. Trapped

11. How to Catch a Whale

12. The Missing Partner

13. Waterbury and Champ

14. Mr. Canavan’s Party

THE RED CHIPMUNK MYSTERY

I. CHAMP STARTS IT ALL

II. DJUNA MEETS A NEW FRIEND

III. THE WONDERFUL WAGON

IV. MERRILY WE ROLL ALONG

V. DJUNA DOES SOME THINKING

V. ISOCKER JOINS THE PARTY

VII. MR. SCISSORS DISAPPEARS!

VIII. DJUNA IN DANGER

IX. DJUNA IN THE CAVE

X. MR. SCISSORS PLAYS HIS ACCORDION

THE BROWN FOX MYSTERY

I. Exciting News

II. All Aboard for a Jolly Summer!

III. The Guard at the Empty Icehouse

IV. Has Captain Ben an Enemy?

V. Djuna Begins to Ask Questions

VI. An Alarming Disappearance

VII. Djuna Asks Queer Questions

VIII. Djuna Faces Deadly Danger

IX. Never Say Die!

X. Why Champ Wagged His Tail

THE WHITE ELEPHANT MYSTERY

I. At the Strange House on the Hill

II. This Way to the Big Show!

III. Dangerous Business

IV. The Boys Meet Queer People

V. The Leap of Death

VI. Djuna Takes a Desperate Step

VII. Champ Bites an Elephant

VIII. Not a Minute to Lose!

IX. Djuna Walks into a Trap

X. Heebie, Hebby, Hobby, Holey, Go-long!

THE YELLOW CAT MYSTERY

I. Djuna Meets a Yellow Cat

II. The Cat Meets a Dentist

III. Tommy Makes Up a New Word

IV. Djuna Finds a Strange Goat

V. Rilla Sells Some Sea Shells

VI. Djuna Mysteriously Disappears

VII. Djuna Makes a Mistake

VIII. The Yellow Cat Snarls

IX. In the Dentist’s Office

X. The Guest of Honor

THE BLUE HERRING MYSTERY

I. Question: When Is a Red Herring Blue?

II. The Mysterious Professor Kloop

III. Djuna Learns What a Fyke Is For

IV. Herrings Are Blue, Sure Enough!

V. An Old Address on Broadway

VI. Some Red Marks, Some Blue Marks

VII. Doc Perry Gets Mad at a Funny Song

VIII. Death Goes Fishing—in an Old Car

IX. Scapping Day

X. For Thrills, Try a Barn, a Shed, or a Museum!

XI. A Surprise Party

THE PURPLE BIRD MYSTERY

A New Boy in Town

The Broken Drawer

The King’s Talisman

Champ Baits an Antique Dealer

The Tigerskin Book

Daylight Prowler

The Mysterious Inscription

Djuna and Jimmy on the Trail

A Murderous Attack

Disaster

How to Use a Five-Iron

A Member of the Family

The Purple Bird

A Celebration

THE MYSTERY OF THE MERRY MAGICIAN

THE SPACE MONSTER

THE LITTLE DOG

THE GLOWING GHOST

THE SILENT WATCHER

NIGHT ON THE RIVER

THE WEIRD THING

THE MYSTERIOUS PROMISE

A CRY IN THE NIGHT

MERLIN’S TALENT

THE GAUNT MAN

THE MAN WHO WALKED ON WATER

THE DISAPPEARING ACT

THE NEW WATCHMAN

THE SECRET OF THE MONSTER

ONE MILLION DOLLARS!

MERLIN RISKS HIS LIFE

A MIDNIGHT VENTURE

RAID AT DAWN

THE TRAP IS SPRUNG

GULLY’S LITTLE NOTEBOOK

THE MYSTERY OF THE VANISHED VICTIM

1. KATAL!

2. SIGNS OF VIOLENCE

3. POORIE AND MUDRAS

4. THE MISSING CLUE

5. THE LIE

6. THE STEEL BRACELET

7. A GRIM ADDRESS

8. DEAD END

9. PRIVATE INVESTIGATION

10. DANGEROUS GAME

11. NIGHT WATCH

12. A LIFE AT STAKE

13. THE WITNESS

14. CAUGHT!

15. LIFE LINE

16. THE CAPTIVE’S STORY

17. THE YELLOW HAWK

18. ATTACK!

19. WIND AND WATER

20. KATAL AGAIN

The Black Dog Mystery

Contents

I. The Little Black Dog

II. Mr. Boots Goes Somewhere

III. Champ Makes a New Friend

IV. The Men Who Walked Backward

V. Mr. Boots Asks Questions

VI. Djuna Borrows a Bicycle

VII. Champ Turns Himself Into a Plaid Shawl

VIII. Mr. Boots Behaves Strangely

IX. Djuna Finds a New Ally

X. Mr. Morrison Needs a Rope

XI. A Council of War

XII. Clarabelle Spoils a Picture

XIII. Voices in the Dark

XIV. The Night Grows Blacker

XV. The Black Dog Leaps

I. The Little Black Dog

IT HAD BEEN cloudy all morning, and by the time Djuna came in for his lunch it had begun to rain. There was a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning just as he opened the kitchen door and rushed in, followed by his dog, Champ.

Mercy on us! exclaimed Miss Annie Ellery, who was putting plates on the kitchen table. That was enough to knock the house down! Is that any way to come in?

Djuna laughed. Oh, boy, did I have to run! he said. Tommy Williams and I were playing catch, and we saw it coming! Gee, look at it pour!

He picked Champ up and held him up to look out of the window at the rain. Champ was a shaggy little black dog, a Scotch terrier—black from the tip of his nose to the tip of his stubby tail. His body was chunky and strong, but his legs were so short that they looked as if he had borrowed them from some other dog that was only half his size. His face was so covered with whiskers that his beady black eyes peered out through the tangle of hair. He wriggled in Djuna’s arms.

All right, don’t look, if you don’t want to, said Djuna, putting him down again. Miss Annie, do you think it’s going to rain all afternoon?

Miss Annie Ellery was a little bit of a woman, hardly taller than Djuna. She had gray hair, and wore spectacles, but her eyes twinkled all the time.

Oh, I don’t think so, she said. These summer showers never last long. But it will be too wet to play outdoors, won’t it?

I guess I’ll go over and see Mr. Boots, said Djuna, as he sat down to eat his lunch. He’s going to help me build a house for Champ.

Well, that will be nice, said Miss Annie.

Are you sure he’s got time? Hasn’t he got something else to do?

Oh, he won’t mind, said Djuna. He said he had lots of time.

Poor Mr. Boots! sighed Miss Annie. He’s such a good carpenter, and there’s so little work for him to do, here in Edenboro! It’s a shame!

He’s going to try to get some work over in Clinton, Djuna said. Or maybe he’s going to try in Riverton. He’s going over there tomorrow, he told me.

Well, I do hope he finds something! said Miss Annie.

It was still raining when Djuna finished his lunch, but he put on his slicker and called to Champ to follow him. The little black dog jumped up from the kitchen floor, where he had been lying with his chin on his paws, but when he got to the doorstep and felt the rain hit his nose he hesitated.

Don’t be a sissy, said Djuna. A little rain won’t hurt you!

Champ gave a bark, probably meaning to say, "Yes, you’ve got a raincoat, but I haven’t," but came along meekly.

The village of Edenboro, where Miss Annie Ellery and Djuna lived, was so small that it had only one street. There were only a dozen houses in the village, and only one store. The storekeeper’s name was Mr. Pindler. His store was right in the middle of Edenboro, at the corner where another road started off for the town of Clinton, which was three miles away. From Clinton, the road went on to Riverton, a much bigger town, where there was a railroad. Riverton was ten miles from Edenboro. Besides keeping the store, Mr. Pindler was the postmaster, but nobody in Edenboro got many letters, so he had plenty of time to attend to the store.

Djuna and Champ picked their way along the muddy road, down which little rivers of water were trickling, went past Mr. Pindler’s store, and came to a little house just beyond the store. This was where Mr. Boots lived. It looked more like a small barn than a house, because Mr. Boots had built it to use as his carpenter shop. Behind the house was a small shed, in which Mr. Boots kept the truck he used to haul lumber in from the railroad station at Riverton.

Over the front door of the shop was a sign, which Mr. Boots had painted himself. It said:

GEORGE BOOTS

CARPENTER, BUILDER & HOUSEPAINTING

Djuna knocked at the door, heard the old man answer, Come in! and stepped inside.

The workshop consisted of one room. Against the wall, on one side of the room, was a long wooden workbench. Hammers and saws and all sorts of other tools hung on the wall over the bench. There were piles of new boards under the bench. On the other side of the room was a narrow staircase that led up to the attic. Mr. Boots slept in the attic. Under the staircase, there were some wooden shelves. On the shelves were a great many cans of paint. Some of them were half empty, and some of them were new and shiny, and hadn’t ever been opened. This was the paint that Mr. Boots kept ready for use, in case he was hired to paint a house, or anything else. At the far end of the room, at the rear, was an iron stove, where Mr. Boots cooked his meals, and beside the stove was the coal-bin in which he kept his coal.

As Djuna and Champ came in, Mr. Boots was bending over the stove, watching the coffeepot to make sure it didn’t boil over. He turned around.

Oh, hello, Djuna! he said. Hello there, Champ! Glad to see you both! Wipe your feet on that piece of cloth there, and come in! Fine weather for ducks, ain’t it?

Mr. Boots had a very kind face, and very bright blue eyes. The top of his head was bald, but there was a fringe of white hair around it, and there was a fringe of white beard under his chin. His face and his hands were tanned very brown.

Champ shook himself hard, to get the raindrops off, and Djuna wiped his feet on the piece of cloth by the door and then hung up his coat.

Could you help me make that house for Champ this afternoon, Mr. Boots? he asked eagerly. Or are you too busy?

Haven’t got a thing in the world to do, said Mr. Boots. I was just wonderin’ if you weren’t comin’ over. This is just the right kind of a day for doin’ some work indoors. You just let me finish this cup of coffee, and we’ll see what we can do.

While Mr. Boots was drinking his coffee, Djuna wandered around the shop and looked at the things on the workbench. He never got tired of looking at all the different tools there, which Mr. Boots kept so carefully sharpened and bright. There were fresh shavings of pine scattered on the bench, and the whole room had a wonderful piney smell. The rain drummed on the roof, and it was very cozy and pleasant in the shop. Champ found a place for himself by the stove and curled up to take a nap.

While he was examining the things on the workbench, Djuna noticed among them a beautifully shaped wooden box, fitted with lids and a handle, and made from very smooth light wood. What is this going to be for, Mr. Boots? he asked.

Mr. Boots finished his coffee and came over to the bench. Why, he said, that’s a work-basket, or will be, soon as I get it finished up. I sort of thought I’d take it over to Riverton and see if I could get some orders for a few of ’em, you know.

Gee, it’s a dandy! exclaimed Djuna. What made you think of it?

Well, said the old man, slowly, I got to thinkin’ about one my sister used to have. She used to think a heap of it. So I figgered if it was such a handy thing to have, maybe I could make and sell some of ’em.

Does your sister live in Riverton? asked Djuna.

She isn’t livin’, Djuna, said Mr. Boots, sadly. It’s been more than a year now, since she died. She married a man named Stricker—oh, a long time ago—and moved away from here, right after they was married. Poor thing, she had an awful hard life, but I couldn’t get her to come back here. First her husband died, and then her boy ran off from home. Guess it was too much for her.

Is her boy living? asked Djuna. How old is he? Old as I am?

Mr. Boots shook his head. Eddie Stricker? he said. No, he’s twice as old as you be. He’s a young man grown.

"Where does he live?" Djuna persisted.

Mr. Boots hesitated. He’s in jail! he said bitterly. Now, Djuna, I didn’t go to tell you! It just sort of slipped out. I’d ruther you didn’t say anything about it to anybody else. I’m sorry.

Oh, I won’t tell anybody, Djuna assured him. Gee, that’s awful! What did he do?

That’s just it, said Mr. Boots. Accordin’ to the last letter I had from his mother, he didn’t do anything wrong—nothin’ to be sent to jail for, at least. Where he made his mistake was in runnin’ away from home. Somewheres or other, he got acquainted with some fellows, a bad lot, and these other fellows they held up a man and shot him and got away. Eddie didn’t know anything about it, but these fellows got him to take a gold watch they had got from the man they shot, and take it to a pawnshop, and the police arrested Eddie. I don’t know. If he had stuck by his mother, it wouldn’t ever have happened, that’s one thing sure. Let’s not talk about it, Djuna. Makes me feel terrible.

Mr. Boots blew his nose violently and leaned down to peer under the work-bench.

I’ve got some nice boards down here, he said. "They ought to be just what we want to build

Champ’s house for him. Just lemme see what I’ve got here."

Djuna felt sorry for Mr. Boots. But Mr. Boots was smiling again when he straightened up and showed Djuna the boards he had chosen.

Fust thing we’ll have to do is to measure Champ, he said, so as we can know how big a door he has to have, and then we can build the house to fit the door. Ain’t much use buildin’ a house if you can’t get into it, is there?

Djuna laughed, and admitted that Mr. Boots was right. So they woke Champ up and made him hold still while they measured his width and his height and his length, and Djuna wrote the measurements down while Mr. Boots called them off.

Now, let’s see, said Mr. Boots, when this had been done. Say we make the door a foot wide. Then we’ll allow a foot on each side of the door; that’ll make the house three feet long. That’ll give Champ plenty of room to move around in. Never cramp a Champ, that’s our motto, hey?

Yes, but ten inches high and ten inches wide will be enough for the door, won’t it? said Djuna. The smaller it is, the less rain can get in, don’t you think?

You’re right, said Mr. Boots. That’s plenty big enough. Now, supposin’ we make the house eighteen inches wide; and eighteen inches high, to the eaves. Reckon that’s about the ticket?

Oh, sure, agreed Djuna. That will be swell!

Mr. Boots drew a careful plan of the house on a piece of paper, while Djuna watched breathlessly.

Now, said Mr. Boots, studying the plan with satisfaction, we can begin buildin’ the framework. I’ve got about thirty feet o’ that inch-and-a-half square pine that was left over from buildin’ Miss Annie’s picket fence, I recollec’. That ought to be just the thing for it.

He groped around under the work-bench until he found the pieces of lumber, put them on the bench and began marking them off at the places where they were to be sawed. As fast as he marked them, he handed them to Djuna to be sawed, and in about an hour the pieces were all ready to be nailed together.

I guess I’d better do this part of the nailin’, said Mr. Boots. Then you can nail the boards on for the walls.

They worked away busily all afternoon, while the rain pattered on the windows, and the time flew by. While Djuna was nailing on the side walls of Champ’s future home, Mr. Boots built the roof for it separately, so that although it would fit snugly over the walls it could be lifted off.

You ask Miss Annie to make a bag you can stuff with straw, for him to sleep on comfortable, said Mr. Boots. Then, when you want to put fresh straw in it, it will be easier to get at it by liftin’ the roof than by tryin’ to pull it out of the door.

At last the house was finished and they stood looking at it proudly. Champ knew right away that it was to be his, and went in through the little door, barked excitedly, and came out wagging his tail.

Gee, that’s the best house I ever saw! exclaimed Djuna.

It ain’t a bit too good for Champ, said Mr. Boots.

Well, I should say not! said Djuna. Gee, just wait till Miss Annie sees it!

There’s one more thing it needs, said Mr. Boots, looking at it and rubbing his chin. How would you like it if I gave it a coat of paint? It would look pretty nice painted white, don’t you think?

Oh, sure! cried Djuna. That will be wonderful! Shall we do it now?

Mr. Boots shook his head. Paint don’t dry so good when you put it on in wet weather, he said. Better wait till we get a good sunny day.

Just then the sun came out and all the raindrops glittered on the trees.

Look! said Djuna. There’s the sun, now!

Yes, but there’s still dampness in the air, insisted Mr. Boots. What say if we do it tomorrow? He looked at the clock over the work-bench. Gettin’ along time for supper, too, he said. Time I went over to Willis Pindler’s and got me a slice o’ ham, or somethin’. You come over here tomorrow, Djuna, and we’ll finish it up. Or were you fixin’ to go fishin’ tomorrow?

Well, I was, said Djuna, but now I’d rather finish up Champ’s house. And, besides, I haven’t got any hooks or line or anything. Miss Annie said she’d give me some money, but I guess she forgot.

Well, now, don’t you go botherin’ her for it, said the old man. I’ve got some old tackle here you might’s well take as not. You come over tomorrow and as soon as we get the house painted, you can take it and welcome.

Oh, thanks, Mr. Boots! exclaimed Djuna. And say, if we paint the house white, what color shall we paint the roof?

Well, let’s have a look and see what color you think is pretty, said Mr. Boots. I’ve got mighty near any color you want.

They walked over to the shelves where the paint-cans stood and Djuna studied all the labels carefully. Green, I guess, he said at last. That’s the way Miss Annie’s roof is. I guess we’d better make it match.

That’s a good idea! agreed Mr. Boots heartily. Now that’s settled, let’s attend to some marketin’. Time you got home, too, I expect.

They went into Mr. Pindler’s store and Mr. Boots bought a can of sardines for his supper. Oh, there’s a letter here for you, George, remarked Mr. Pindler, as he put the sardines on the counter. I was going to take it over to you if you didn’t come in.

For me? said Mr. Boots in a surprised tone. "I ain’t expectin’ any mail."

Mr. Pindler handed him the letter and Mr. Boots put on his spectacles and studied the handwriting on the envelope.

It’s my name, all right, he admitted. "But it beats me who it’s from."

One way of finding out is to open it, suggested Mr. Pindler dryly.

Mr. Boots chuckled. So ’tis, he agreed. He opened the envelope, took out the letter, and began to read it. But as he did so, his hands began to tremble and a strange frightened look came over his face. Without saying a word, he folded the letter with shaking fingers and hurried out.

Djuna and Mr. Pindler stood staring after him with amazement.

Gee, what’s the matter with Mr. Boots? exclaimed Djuna wonderingly.

Mr. Pindler shook his head. Must have been some bad news, he said. Well, I reckon it’s none of our business, Djuna, or he’d have told us. Hope it ain’t nothin’ serious.

Gee, I hope not! said Djuna earnestly. Well, goodbye, Mr. Pindler.

As he got to the store porch, Djuna looked towards Mr. Boots’s carpenter shop. A small open truck, very old and rusty, had just driven up and two men were climbing out of it in front of Mr. Boots’s house. Djuna recognized one of the two men. He was a man named Lester Sedd. Everybody called him Les’ Sedd, for short. He lived in a shack in the woods, on the edge of Lost Pond, a mile or two from Edenboro. Djuna didn’t know who the other man was. He didn’t look like a farmer.

Djuna saw the two men walk over to Mr. Boots and begin talking to him at his front door. Pretty soon Mr. Boots began shaking his head. The more they talked, the more he shook his head, and Djuna could see he was growing excited. Finally he turned and went into his shop, and the two men followed him in.

Djuna whistled for Champ, who had wandered off down the road, and they started for home. At first he walked very slowly, wondering what the letter had said, to upset Mr. Boots so badly. But he had gone only a few steps when he heard his name called. He looked up. It was Clarabelle Smith. Clarabelle was Mr. Pindler’s niece, and had come to visit her uncle and aunt for the summer. She was standing on the front porch of Mr. Pindler’s house.

Did you see the rainbow? she asked excitedly.

"Gee, it was marvelous!"

Djuna shook his head. No, he said. Was there one?

"Sure, right after the rain stopped and the sun came out! It’s gone now, but it was right over there, back of your house. Say, where is a rainbow after it’s gone?"

Djuna stared at her doubtfully. What’s the matter with you? he demanded. Are you crazy?

"No, but where does it go? Clarabelle persisted. What do they do with all those colors?"

What colors? Djuna retorted. There aren’t any colors in a rainbow. You just think there are.

There are, too! said Clarabelle indignantly. I guess I know what I saw with my own eyes, don’t I? Red, and blue, and all sorts of colors!

Well, they’re just drops of water, said Djuna. They’re what’s left over after it stops raining.

I know, said Clarabelle. "But what I mean is, where do they go next? I should think they’d run down and make all sorts of ponds—red ponds, and blue ponds, and all sort of colors. I don’t see why not.

Well, there isn’t any color in rain-water, Djuna insisted. I caught some in a glass, once, and there isn’t any. It’s only when it’s up in the air and the sun shines on it just the right way. It sparkles, and that’s what makes the colors. See what I mean?

Clarabelle pondered. I guess so, she said doubtfully.

Djuna giggled. "I don’t, he admitted. Next time there’s a rainbow I’m going to take it to pieces and find out."

Clarabelle laughed out loud. "Oh, Djuna, you’re crazy!" she said admiringly.

All right, you just wait and see, said Djuna, grinning. I’ve got to go home, now. So long, Clarabelle.

He raced Champ the rest of the way home and the two of them almost collided with Miss Annie as she opened the kitchen door to let them in.

Glittering glories! exclaimed Miss Annie, smiling at them. Djuna, have you got any breath left, or would you mind running over to Mr. Johnson’s and getting some eggs for me? I thought we’d have scrambled eggs for supper, and there isn’t one left.

Oh, sure! panted Djuna, taking the basket and the money for the eggs. Say, just wait till you see the house we built for Champ, Miss Annie! It’s all done, except for being painted!

Really? Already? said Miss Annie. "That’s wonderful! But you’d better hurry now, or we’ll never get supper. Skip, now, both of you!"

Mr. Johnson’s chicken-farm was not far away, and they got there in no time. Djuna knocked at the back door, and Mr. Johnson came out, wiping his mouth.

Just settin’ down t’ supper, he exclaimed. Want some eggs? Well, let’s go out to the coops and get ye some right fresh ones.

As they walked toward the chicken-coops, where dozens of hens and young chickens were scratching around in the fenced-in yards, which were right on the edge of a brook running through the woods, Djuna looked around inquiringly.

Where’s your dog, Mr. Johnson? he asked. You haven’t sold him, have you?

No, sir! said Mr. Johnson. I wouldn’t sell that pup—a cocker spaniel like that is mighty hard to get. Why, he’s got a pedigree, that pup has! He’s around here, somewhere.

Just then all the hens in the coops began squawking and running wildly around, as if they had been frightened by something, and a moment later the young cocker spaniel came trotting around from behind the row of chicken-houses. He was carrying a dead chicken in his mouth. As soon as he saw Mr. Johnson, he began to wag his tail and came trotting straight toward him, with his long silky ears flapping as he ran.

Mr. Johnson’s face flushed dark as a thunder-cloud, and he looked as if he were going to choke with rage. As soon as the dog came up to him, he seized it roughly, took the dead chicken away from him, and began dragging the frightened spaniel toward the barn.

Oh, gee, Mr. Johnson! cried Djuna, in alarm. What’s the matter?

Plenty! growled Mr. Johnson. Th’ pup has taken to killin’ chickens, and that ends him! I’ll fix him!

Oh, please! cried Djuna. Maybe he didn’t kill it! Maybe something else killed it!

Of course he killed it, said Mr. Johnson, indignantly. You heard th’ squawkin’! One of my best layin’ hens, too! Once a dog starts killin’, he keeps right on at it. Nothin’ to do but get rid of him.

Djuna picked up the dead chicken. Wait, Mr. Johnson! he cried. It’s still warm!

Examining it carefully, he saw that there was no blood on its feathers anywhere except at its throat, where a few drops had oozed out. He parted the throat feathers gently and looked at the wounds. There they were—tiny holes, looking as if they had been made with the point of a penknife.

Look! said Djuna excitedly. Look at this, Mr. Johnson!

What about it? growled the farmer.

Your dog didn’t do it! cried Djuna. Look, the feathers aren’t rumpled up at all, and when a dog kills a chicken it always shakes it and bites it and musses it all up! But there’s just these tiny little holes here. It must have been a weasel, or a mink, or something!

Mr. Johnson looked at the holes in the chicken’s throat and slowly nodded. Well, by gummy, I believe you’re right, Djuna! he said at last. Might have been a weasel, at that.

Probably he’d just killed it when your dog came along and scared him so that he dropped it, said Djuna eagerly. So he was bringing it to you.

You’re right, the farmer said, now thoroughly convinced. "I certainly am obleeged to you,

Djuna. You’re right, th’ pup carried that chicken just as gentle as if ’twas an eggshell! Well, now, what do you know about that!"

He reached down and patted the spaniel’s head and stroked its ears. Good dog! he said.

Djuna hurried home with his basket of eggs, as soon as Mr. Johnson got them for him, and told Miss Annie the story.

Why, Djuna, I think that was just wonderful! exclaimed Miss Annie. Just imagine thinking that all out! I’m proud of you!

I don’t believe I would have thought of it, said Djuna, if it hadn’t been for Mr. Boots. Mr. Boots says—

He stopped short. He had suddenly remembered that Mr. Boots had asked him not to say anything about his nephew to anyone.

Mr. Boots says people are always guessing too quick, he went on. He says it’s the worst thing anybody can do.

And that’s very true, said Miss Annie. That’s a very good thing to remember. Well, wash your face and hands, Djuna, and supper will be ready.

Yes’m, said Djuna. As soon as I feed Champ.

When supper was over, and they had washed the dishes, Miss Annie lit the lamp in the front room and they played checkers until Djuna’s bedtime, while Champ snoozed peacefully under the kitchen table. When it was time to go to bed, Djuna took Champ outdoors and Champ stood very sleepily while Djuna fastened him by his chain to the old wooden box that had been his home ever since he was big enough to sleep outdoors.

You’re going to have a new house, you know, pretty soon, Djuna assured him. Maybe tomorrow.

The little black dog wagged his tail and waddled sleepily into his box. He settled down with a sigh of contentment.

All the lights in the village were soon out. In the darkness, over at Mr. Johnson’s farm, a weasel crept toward the chicken-house, to try again.

II. Mr. Boots Goes Somewhere

DJUNA RUBBED HIS eyes and came wide awake instantly. June sunshine was flooding through his bedroom window.

Downstairs, in the kitchen, he could hear Miss Annie already moving around, getting breakfast ready. He jumped out of bed and in his bare feet ran to the open window. The whole bright morning smacked him right on the nose. He stuck his head out.

All right, Champ! he yelled. I’m coming!

Then out into the upstairs hall, to shout down over the banisters:

Coming, Miss Annie!

He dived back into his bedroom, finished scrubbing himself in two minutes, slid into his clothes, and was downstairs and into the kitchen in two jumps.

Have you untied Champ, Miss Annie? he asked breathlessly.

Glittering glories of Golconda! she exclaimed, pretending to be surprised. "Are you up? No, I haven’t untied Champ. He’s your dog, not mine. Now, don’t waste too much time with him. Breakfast’s ready."

But Djuna had already dashed outdoors and around to the back yard. Champ was pulling at his chain and dancing up and down with eagerness. He was so excited that Djuna could hardly get the chain unfastened. Hold still, for Pete’s sake! laughed Djuna. How do you think I can get this loose if you don’t stand still?

So the little black Scotty held still for two seconds, and then, as soon as the chain was unfastened, he raced around the yard in circles, going so fast that he finally skidded and rolled over and over in the grass. He got up with his red tongue hanging out, panting.

Then he rushed back and looked up at Djuna and gave three loud barks, like three cheers.

You’re right, Champ! said Djuna. It’s the finest morning there ever was! Come on, now, and get your breakfast.

Djuna put Champ’s breakfast on a tin pan by the kitchen door, and then sat down to his own. Oh, hurray, strawberries! he exclaimed, as Miss Annie put a saucerful of them in front of him and placed the cream pitcher beside them. "When did you get them, Miss Annie? I didn’t hear you ordering them yesterday."

I didn’t, said Miss Annie. Clarabelle Smith brought them over this morning, before you got up.

Clarabelle? exclaimed Djuna in surprise. Gee, she must have got up early! I never heard her at all!

Of course not, said Miss Annie, "the way you sleep. It wasn’t so terribly early. Twenty minutes ago, I guess."

Well, I didn’t hear her, said Djuna. Oh, I remember—I heard Champ bark, but I didn’t know who it was. Say, Miss Annie, when Mr. Boots and I finish Champ’s house, may I go fishing?

Why, of course, said Miss Annie. Oh, you said you needed a quarter for hooks, didn’t you?

Mr. Boots is going to lend me his rod, said Djuna, as he pocketed the coin, but I’ll probably need this, too.

No doubt, said Miss Annie dryly. I suppose you can’t catch fish without candy.

Djuna laughed, and when he had finished his breakfast he hurried off to Mr. Boots’s house, with Champ at his heels. As he turned the corner and came in sight of it, he was surprised to see that the door was not open. Getting closer, he saw that there was a piece of paper tacked on the door. He read it in surprise.

BACK SOON, it said.

Djuna looked at Champ, who was waiting to hear what it said. Gee, that’s funny, said Djuna. Where do you suppose he’s gone?

Djuna walked slowly around to the back of the shop, hoping he would find Mr. Boots there, but there was no sign of him. His truck was gone, and it was evident that he had driven off somewhere. Djuna stood staring at the ground, deep in thought. Where could Mr. Boots have gone? He had said nothing about going anywhere—in fact, he had invited Djuna to come over that day, so that they could paint Champ’s new house, together.

Where on earth has he gone? he repeated.

Champ wagged his tail, but said nothing.

Well, said Djuna, thoughtfully, there’s that wooden work-basket he was making—maybe he’s taken it over to Riverton, Champ, to sell it. But I don’t see why he didn’t tell us he was going.

He walked disconsolately back to the front door and stared at the sign again, as if he expected to find some more information from it. It was not locked, and swung open easily. He looked in, but the shop was empty, and he hastily closed the door again. Lost in thought, he stood staring at the road for a moment, then moved slowly towards home.

By the time he reached Mr. Pindler’s store, he had decided what to do.

Let’s go over and get Tommy Williams, Champ, he said to his little black dog. We can’t paint your house till Mr. Boots gets back, and he may not get back for an awful long time. We might just as well go fishing.

So they went on past the store till they came to Tommy Williams’s house. Tommy was out in the front yard, practicing standing on his head. They could see his feet waving in the air.

Hey, Tommy! yelled Djuna.

Tommy’s feet waved desperately and he came down on the grass, all in a heap. He got up looking annoyed.

Oh, for Pete’s sake! he said. "What do you

want to yell like that for? I’ll bet I could have stood on my head for an hour, if you hadn’t yelled!"

Let’s go fishing! shouted Djuna.

Oh, swell! said Tommy. Have you got any worms?

Not yet, said Djuna. I’ve got to go over to get some hooks, first. Mr. Boots was going to lend me some, but he isn’t home. Come on, let’s get the hooks and then we can get the worms.

Have you got any money? asked Tommy.

I’ve got a quarter, said Djuna. Miss Annie gave it to me.

So’ve I, said Tommy. He felt in his pocket, and a look of horror spread over his face. Oh, gosh! he exclaimed. It’s gone!

Look over there where you were standing on your head, said Djuna calmly. It probably fell out of your pocket.

Tommy dashed back to where he had been standing on his head, and crawled around on the grass anxiously. Here it is! he shouted triumphantly. Gee, thanks, Djuna!

They started off for Mr. Pindler’s store. Suddenly Tommy stopped short. Oh, look! he whispered. There’s Clarabelle Smith, out on her porch! If she finds out we’re going fishing, she’ll want to come with us!

They crouched down behind the hedge and crept along cautiously, hidden from sight. But they had not counted on Champ. Champ trotted boldly down the road, and Clarabelle saw him. They hissed at him fiercely, to make him come back, but he only stopped and looked back at them, and then Clarabelle saw where they were.

"I see you! she yelled. Needn’t think I don’t see you!"

They stood up and Tommy looked at Djuna hopelessly. "Now what can we do?" he whispered.

We don’t have to do anything, said Djuna. We don’t have to tell her where we’re going, do we?

Come on over! shouted Clarabelle. I want to show you something!

They crossed the road slowly and went up to the porch. Clarabelle ran down the steps and held out a flat box of shiny black tin for them to see.

Look! she cried. It’s my birthday present! Uncle Willis gave it to me! They’re water-color paints, so I can paint pictures!

Gee, they’re dandy! said Djuna, admiringly. Is this your birthday, honest?

Clarabelle nodded happily. I came over to tell you, this morning, she said. But you weren’t up yet. Aunt Clara gave me a box of strawberries to bring over. Didn’t Miss Annie tell you?

Oh, sure, said Djuna. We had them for breakfast. Say, listen, Tommy, we’ve got to get started.

"Well, I’m ready, said Tommy, handing the box of paints back to Clarabelle. We’ve got to be going now."

"Where you going?" asked Clarabelle.

Oh, just a little ways, said Tommy vaguely.

If you’re going to see Mr. Boots, he isn’t home, said Clarabelle.

I know he isn’t, said Djuna. Where did he go, do you know?

No, said Clarabelle, but I know he went somewhere. I heard him. I woke up in the middle of the night, and I heard him getting his truck started. That’s all I know. But I looked out of my window this morning and he wasn’t back yet, so that’s how I know.

You know a lot, don’t you? said Tommy. Clarabelle made a face at him.

You know what I’m going to paint, Djuna? she asked. I’m going to paint that rainbow I saw yesterday!

Tommy tugged at his elbow. Come on, let’s go, Djuna, he said. G’bye, Clarabelle!

The two boys went on around the corner and into Mr. Pindler’s store. Mr. Pindler was sweeping the floor with a wet swishy broom as they came in, but put it down as soon as he saw them. Well, boys, what can I do for you? he asked.

Have you got any hooks, Mr. Pindler? Djuna asked. We’re going fishing for bass.

Bass hooks? said Mr. Pindler. Well, pshaw, bass hooks is the one thing I’m clean out of. Just looking over the counter last night. I can send for ’em, if you want. Get ’em here in a day or two. Will that do ye?

Oh, gee! said Djuna. We wanted to go today!

Sorry, said Mr. Pindler. I’d run you over to Clinton, but my car’s out of order.

Just then there was the sound of a noisy engine outside the store, and a moment later two men came into the store. They were the same two men Djuna had seen the afternoon before, as they were talking to Mr. Boots in front of his shop. One was Les’ Sedd. The other man stood as straight as a soldier and had a very pleasant face. Les’ Sedd was as tall as he was, but his shoulders were thin and stooping, and he looked very thin and scrawny in comparison with the stranger. Les’ had big ears and a big nose, but almost no chin at all, and his head craned forward on his long thin neck, so that he looked a great deal like an old hen that was hunting for a bug just out of reach.

Hello, Les’! said Mr. Pindler, as they came in. "Thought it was you—knew it was you as soon as I heard that truck of yours coughin’."

Les’ Sedd smiled feebly. I’m going to get that fixed any day, now, he said. Been too busy, that’s all. Willis, meet my friend, Mr. Morrison—he’s just come up from town to do some fishin’ with me. Frank, shake hands with Mr. Pindler.

Happy to meet you, Mr. Pindler! said the stranger, smiling as he thrust out his hand. Djuna noticed that he wore two or three rings on his fingers, one of them with a diamond that sparkled in the sun. Nice country you’ve got up here!

"Well, we like it, said Mr. Pindler, shaking hands. You from the city, are ye, Mr. Morrison?"

Yes, I’ve got a little jewelry shop down there, said Morrison, smiling again. He seemed always smiling. But there’s nothing like fishing, for me. Always have to take a few days off this time of year.

Well, guess you’ll find plenty o’ bass over to Lost Pond, said Mr. Pindler. You wa’n’t up here last year, were ye?

No, this is my first trip, said Morrison, still smiling. Just happened to hear of Mr. Sedd from a friend of mine. Say, tell me something, Mr. Pindler—where can I buy some shingles around here?

Shingles! exclaimed Mr. Pindler. Why, I reckon George Boots ought to have some, but he ain’t to home today. What was you needin’ them for?

Well, the fact is, Mr. Sedd thinks he ought to patch up his roof a little, grinned Morrison. We came over here yesterday afternoon, right after it rained, but we didn’t have any luck. Mr. Boots didn’t have any shingles.

Say! exclaimed Mr. Pindler. I shouldn’t wonder if he ain’t gone over to Riverton for that very thing! Did he tell ye he’d get ’em for ye?

Well, no, he didn’t, said Morrison. The fact is, he didn’t seem to want to talk at all. Little peculiar, isn’t he?

Oh, no, I reckon he just had something worryin’ him, said Mr. Pindler. "But if he couldn’t help ye, nearest lumberyard is over to Riverton. You know that, Les’."

I been meanin’ to get that roof fixed before this, mumbled Les’ Sedd. Been too busy.

Well, let’s get going, said Mr. Morrison, still smiling. Much obliged to you, Mr. Pindler.

Djuna and Tommy had been listening to the conversation, and now Djuna had a sudden idea.

Oh, are you going to Riverton, Mr. Sedd? he asked. Could you let us ride with you as far as Clinton, please?

Les’ Sedd hesitated. Don’t know ’s we got room for ye, he said, glancing at Mr. Morrison.

What’s that, buddy? inquired Mr. Morrison, glancing at Djuna. Want a lift? Where do you want to go?

To Clinton, said Djuna, hopefully.

Clinton? Where’s that? Anywhere near here?

"Why, you know where that is, Frank, Les’ Sedd interrupted in a surprised tone. We come through it when I brought ye from Riverton station. ’Bout three mile from here, don’t ye recollec’?"

Mr. Morrison laughed. Oh, is that where it is? he said. "First time I ever heard of it! He turned to Mr. Pindler with a grin. Les’ thinks that just because I’ve been staying with him a couple of days I ought to know my way around, he chuckled. Why, I could get lost between here and his house, if he didn’t come along with me!"

You won’t have any trouble findin’ Clinton, said Mr. Pindler, if you’re goin’ to Riverton, to get them shingles. Clinton’s the only town between here and Riverton. You can’t miss it.

All right, then, boys, said Mr. Morrison. Hop in, and we’ll drop you off there. Want to take your dog along?

Oh, thanks! exclaimed Djuna. That will be fine!

Plenty of room in the back, said Mr. Morrison. Get in there, all three of you!

The boys hurried out to the truck, lifted Champ in over the tailboard, and climbed in themselves. The truck was empty, except for a big roll of ragged old canvas. They sat on it, and found it made a very comfortable seat.

Les’ Sedd and Mr. Morrison climbed into the front seat. Let me off when we get to my road, they heard Les’ saying as he climbed in. I’ll go on home and be gettin’ dinner started.

No, I think you’d better come along with me, Mr. Morrison said. I’ll need your company, Les’. Must have somebody to talk to, you know.

He chuckled again, and Les’ Sedd started the engine. It coughed and banged, and the whole truck shook as it began to move. It rattled past Mr. Boots’s shop, crossed the old stone bridge over Miller’s Brook, climbed sputteringly up the low hill on the other side, and then began to go faster. The floorboards rattled under their feet as they jounced along, and the truck made so much noise, it was no use trying to talk. They held on to the sides of the truck, and Djuna kept one hand on Champ’s collar to keep him from being bounced out altogether.

After they had passed through the strip of woods by the brook, there was nothing but farm-land all around them, with no houses in sight, and only the fields of young corn and oats, or else wide meadows in which cows were grazing. When they had gone a mile, they passed a narrow dirt road, fringed with weeds, which led off through the fields to the big woods surrounding Lost Pond. Les’ Sedd’s cabin was at one end of the pond, but the trees hid it completely from sight. They went on without pausing, and in a few minutes more the truck came to a sudden stop at the crossroad, which led into Clinton.

Mr. Morrison craned his neck around the corner of the driver’s seat and grinned. Here you are, boys! he called out. End of the line, all out!

But Djuna and Tommy were already scrambling down and lifting Champ after them. Thanks very much, Mr. Morrison! they cried.

No trouble at all, said Mr. Morrison heartily. But listen—you kids will have to get back the best way you can. I don’t know how long we’ll be in Riverton, so don’t wait for us. If we get a load of shingles, we won’t have room for you, anyway.

Oh, we don’t mind, said Djuna. We can walk back. Thanks a lot!

Mr. Morrison turned toward Les’, who was sitting in the driver’s seat with his eyes looking

straight ahead. Okay, get going, Djuna heard him say. Les’ Sedd stepped on the starter immediately. Djuna thought he heard Mr. Morrison say something more to Les’, but he wasn’t sure. The truck made too much noise.

They watched the truck as it rattled off in the direction of Riverton, and Tommy Williams said excitedly:

Gee, he’s an awful nice man, isn’t he? I’ll bet Mr. Sedd wouldn’t have given us a lift at all, if he hadn’t said to!

Sure, he’s all right, said Djuna, slowly. But I don’t see why he had to say Mr. Boots was peculiar.

Champ had trotted on ahead, and the two boys followed him. Champ had never been in this place before, and there were new sights to be seen and new smells to be sniffed at, all around him. He walked slowly and warily forward, his black whiskered nose held high in air, his stubby black tail wigwagging the question:

What next?

III. Champ Makes a New Friend

ALINTON WAS about ten times as big as Edenboro, but all its stores were on one street. This street crossed the road on which they had come from Edenboro, and went on east to Grandville, the next town, which was ten miles away.

Djuna had been in Clinton before, so he knew how to find the hardware store where he expected to buy the fish-hooks. It was at the other end of the block from the corner where they had got down from Mr. Sedd’s truck. He and Tommy Williams and Champ walked along the sidewalk slowly, because there were so many things to see.

All the stores were on that side of the street. On the opposite side of the street was a church, with a lawn on each side of it. Next to it, in the middle of the block, was a small brick building with a sign over the door which said: FREE PUBLIC LIBRARY OF CLINTON. Next to the library was another brick building, with gold lettering on its windows that said: FIRST NATIONAL BANK OF CLINTON. These were the only three buildings on that side of the street. Djuna looked up at the clock in the tower of the church. It said twenty-five minutes to ten.

On their side of the street, the first building they came to was a movie theatre; next to the theatre was a grocery store, next to that was a meat market, and next to the meat market was a little restaurant with a sign over the door saying: CLINTON­ INN, W. FOSTER PROP. Standing at the door of the restaurant­ was a man in his shirt-sleeves, with a white apron over his trousers­; Djuna guessed he must be Mr. Prop. A white dog with black spots all over him was lying on the sidewalk at Mr. Prop’s feet, watching the people go by, and when the spotted dog saw Champ coming along he jumped up and began wagging his long thin tail so hard that he thumped Mr. Prop on the knees. Champ and the spotted dog made friends with each other at once, and Djuna had to speak to Champ twice before he could get him to come along.

Next to the restaurant was a small brick building with a sign on it saying: CITY HALL. There was a little lawn in front of it, and an iron bench by the steps. Two motorcycles were parked at the foot of the steps. On the bench sat a man in his shirt-sleeves, smoking a cigar. Pinned to his suspenders, he wore a big gold star and, when the boys got nearer to him, they read the words, Chief of Police, on the star. At each hip, the Chief wore a leather holster. The butt of a revolver stuck out from each. When the Chief saw the little black dog walking sedately in front of the two boys, he snapped his fingers at him and tried to coax him to come nearer. Champ stopped and looked at him and then looked at Djuna to see what Djuna wanted him to do.

Nice dog you’ve got there, bub, said the Chief of Police. Real Scotty, ain’t he?

Yes, sir, said Djuna proudly. He’s got a pedigree.

Well, now, think of that! said the Chief admiringly. Don’t it bother him any, in this hot weather?

He grinned, but Djuna and Tommy didn’t know exactly what to say, so they didn’t answer.

You two boys live around here? the Chief asked.

No, sir, said Djuna; we live in Edenboro.

Edenboro, hey? I thought I hadn’t seen you around here before. Don’t mind my askin’, do ye? Got to keep track of all suspicious characters, you know!

The boys knew he was just trying to tease them, but the Chief’s joke didn’t seem very funny to them, so they just smiled, feeling a little embarrassed.

The Chief chuckled, stood up, tossed away what was left of his cigar, and yawned.

Well, take care of yourselves, boys, he wheezed. Don’t let the street cars run over you!

He climbed the steps and went back to his office in the City Hall. The boys walked on.

What did he say that about the street cars for? whispered Tommy. There aren’t any street cars here.

Oh, he was just trying to be funny, said Djuna, carelessly. Look, Tommy, there’s the hardware store!

He wanted to hurry on, to get the fish-hooks, but both Tommy and Champ had other ideas. Before they reached the hardware store, they came to a drugstore. There were all sorts of things in the drugstore window that Tommy wanted to look at—shiny new cameras, and some stamp albums with foreign stamps pasted in them, and a whole tub of candy, tipped over on its side, so that you could see the candy all tumbling out in a heap. Tommy looked at the candy and his mouth began to water.

As for Champ, he didn’t want to go any farther at all, because he saw an old setter dog, with a very kind face, lying on the pavement in the sun, in front of the drugstore. When he saw Champ coming along the sidewalk, the old dog stood up slowly and waved his tail very gently. Champ trotted up to him, his own short tail wagging very fast, and the two dogs sniffed at each other in a friendly way. They were ready to stand there and talk to each other for the rest of the day, it seemed.

Come on, Tommy, said Djuna impatiently. Come on, Champ!

Huh? said Tommy, without turning around. What’s the hurry?

Oh, all right, said Djuna.

He went on into the hardware store. Champ hesitated a moment, for he really wanted to go on talking to the old setter dog, and then wagged his tail once more and trotted after Djuna. The old dog settled down again with a sigh. He had liked the little black dog at first sight, and he was sorry that Champ had to go so soon.

Inside the hardware store, Mr. Granger the storekeeper was standing behind the long wooden counter, measuring out five pounds of nails into a tin scoop on the scales, for a man who was waiting to get them, so Djuna and Champ looked around the store. Right in the middle stood a glistening new bicycle, which was so beautiful that Djuna almost forgot what he had come into the store to get.

He was still staring at the bicycle when Mr. Granger came over to see what he wanted.

Mighty nice bike, isn’t it? said Mr. Granger. Thinking of buying one?

Djuna looked up, startled. Oh, no, sir, he said hastily. I just wanted some fish-hooks, please.

Mr. Granger looked at him closely. I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? he asked. You were in here the other day with old George Boots, weren’t you, from Edenboro?

Yes, sir, said Djuna.

"Thought I remembered you, said the storekeeper. Want some hooks, you say? What kind would you like?"

Bass hooks, please, said Djuna. And some line.

Mr. Granger led the way over to a glass showcase in which there were all kinds and sizes of hooks, neatly arranged on cards. Some had little tufts of feathers fastened around them. Some were shaped like minnows, with the hooks dangling from their tails. Djuna pointed at one of the big ones. How much is that one? he asked.

That trolling hook? Let you have that one for a dollar, said Mr. Granger.

Oh, gee! exclaimed Djuna ruefully. "I didn’t know they cost that much!"

The storekeeper smiled. Well, you can probably catch just as many with a plain hook, he said, picking up a small one. Let you have these for a nickel apiece.

Oh, sure, they’ll be all right, said Djuna. I want two of those, please. And some line.

Got some good line here for a penny a yard, said Mr. Granger. How much of it will you be wanting?

Djuna counted it up. Two hooks, ten cents. And he had a quarter. Fifteen yards, please, he said. Mr. Granger measured it off, handed over the hooks and the line, and took the quarter.

Mr. Boots come over with you today? he asked, as he rang up the cash.

No, sir, answered Djuna.

Well, give him my regards when you see him,

said Mr. Granger. George Boots is a mighty nice old man, and you can tell him I said so. Say, is he working on any job just now?

I don’t think so, said Djuna, doubtfully. I don’t think he’s had any work for an awful long time.

Well, now, see here, said Mr. Granger, you tell him he’d better get over to this new Army camp as quick as he can and see if the contractor can’t give him something to do. You know where the camp is, don’t you?

No, sir, said Djuna.

Well, it’s over towards Riverton, southwest of here, said Mr. Granger. It’s an awful big job. They’re going to put up buildin’s enough for five thousand men, or more. Started work just this week. They’ve got a thousand workmen there already, clearin’ off the land and puttin’ in the water system and buildin’ roads and so on, and they’re hirin’ carpenters right now. You tell George Boots he’d better get over there right away. Tell him to stop in here first and I’ll give him a letter to the contractor. Will you do that?

Oh, sure! said Djuna eagerly. Thanks very much! I’ll tell him as soon as I get home!

You be sure and do that, said Mr. Granger, coming out from behind the counter. That Army camp is going to mean a lot of new business, around here. Of course, most of it will go to Riverton, but there’ll be plenty of overflow trade coming into Clinton, too. Bound to! Every store in this town is putting in extra stock. It’s a good thing you got here this morning, young fellow—give us another day, and we’re going to be so jammed up with customers that you won’t be able to walk along the street.

Djuna was hardly listening. He couldn’t take his eyes off the shiny new bicycle. It shone like silver, and its equipment included the very latest and finest