"Never mind, we can easily bail her out or turn her over."

"When do you think this storm will stop?"

"In an hour or two, most likely.  Such storms never last very
long.  What time is it, Ned?"

"Half-past two," answered Ned, after consulting the handsome
watch he carried.

"Then, if it clears in two hours, we'll have plenty of time to
get home before dark."

"I don't care to stay here two hours," grumbled Ned.  "It's not a
very inviting place."

"It's better than being out under the trees," answered Joe,
cheerfully.  The hermit's boy was always ready to look on the
brighter side of things.

"Oh, of course."

"And we have a fine string of fish, don't forget that, Ned.  We
were lucky to get so many before the storm came up."

"Do you want the fish, or are you going to let me take them?"

"I'd like to have one fish.  You may take the others."

"Not unless you let me pay for them, Joe."

"Oh, you needn't mind about paying me."

"But I insist," came from Ned.  "I won't touch them otherwise."

"All right, you can pay me for what I caught."

"No, I want to pay for all of them.  Your time is worth
something, and I know you have to support your--the old hermit
now."

"All right, Ned, have your own way.  Yes, I admit, I need all the
money I get."

"Is the old hermit very sick?"

"Not so sick, but his rheumatism keeps him from going out hunting
or fishing, so all that work falls to me."

"It's a good deal on your shoulders, Joe."

"I make the best of it, for there is nothing else to do."

"By the way, Joe, you once spoke to me about--well, about
yourself," went on Ned, after some hesitation.  "Did you ever
learn anything more?  You need not tell me if you don't care to."

At these words Joe's face clouded for an instant.

"No, I haven't learned a thing more, Ned."

"Then you don't really know if you are the hermit's nephew or
not?"

"Oh, I think I am, but I don't know whatever became of my
father."

"Does the hermit think he is alive?"

"He doesn't know, and he hasn't any means of finding out."

"Well, if I were you, I'd find out, some way or other."

"I'm going to find out--some day," replied Joe.  "But, to tell
the truth, I don't know how to go at it.  Uncle Hiram doesn't
like to talk about it.  He thinks my father did wrong to go away.

I imagine they had a quarrel over it."

"Has he ever heard from your father since?"

"Not a word."

"Did he write?"

"He didn't know where to write to."

"Humph! It is certainly a mystery, Joe."

"You are right, Ned; and as I said before, I am going to solve it
some time, even if it takes years of work to do it," replied the
hermit's boy.

CHAPTER II.

A MYSTERIOUS CONVERSATION.

The old hunting lodge where the two boys had sought shelter was a
rambling affair, consisting of a square building built of logs,
and half a dozen wings, running to the rear and to one side. 
There were also two piazzas, and a shed, where wood had been kept
for winter use.

"In another year or two this old lodge will fall down," remarked
Ned, as he gazed around him.

"It must have been a nice place in its day," returned Joe.  "What
a pity to let it run down in this fashion."

"The rain is coming around on this side now, Joe; let us shift to
the other."

The hermit's boy was willing, and watching their chance, between
the downpours, they ran around to another portion of the old
lodge.

"It certainly is a little better here," observed Joe, as he
dashed the water from his cap.

A minute later the rumbling of the thunder ceased for the time
being, and they heard a murmur of voices coming from one of the
rooms of the lodge.

"Why, somebody must be here!" ejaculated Ned.  "Who can it be?"

"Two men, by their voices," answered the hermit's boy.  "Wait
till I take a look at them?"

"Why not go in?" questioned the rich youth, carelessly.

"They may not be persons that we would care to meet, Ned.  You
know there are some undesirable characters about the lake."

"That's true."

Not far off was a narrow window, the panes of glass of which had
long since been broken out.  Moving toward this, Joe peered into
the apartment beyond.

Close to an old fireplace, in which a few sticks of half-green
timber were burning, sat two men.  Both were well dressed, and
Joe rightfully surmised that they were from the city.  Each wore
a hunting outfit and had a gun, but neither had any game.

"We came on a wild-goose chase," grumbled one, as he stirred the
fire.  "Got nothing but a soaking for our pains."

"Never mind, Malone," returned the other, who was evidently the
better educated of the two.  "As we had to make ourselves scarce
in the city this was as good a place to come to as any."

"Don't you think they'll look for us here?"

"Why should they?  We were sharp enough not to leave any trail
behind--at least, I was."

"Reckon I was just as sharp, Caven."

"You had to be--otherwise you would have been nabbed."  Gaff
Caven chuckled to himself.  "We outwitted them nicely, I must
say. We deserve credit."

"I've spent more than half of what I got out of the deal," went
on Pat Malone, for such was the full name of one of the speakers.

"I've spent more than that.  But never mind, my boy, fortune will
favor us again in the near future."

A crash of thunder drowned out the conversation following, and
Joe hurried back to where he had left Ned.

"Well, have you found out who they are?" demanded the rich youth,
impatiently.

"No, Ned, but I am sure of one thing."

"What is that?"

"They are two bad men."

"What makes you think that?"

"They said something about having to get out of the city, and one
spoke about being nabbed.  Evidently they went away to avoid
arrest."

At this announcement Ned Talmadge whistled softly to himself.

"Phew! What shall we do about it?" he asked, with a look of
concern on his usually passive face.

Joe shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know what to do."

"Let us listen to what they have to say. Maybe we'll strike some
clew to what they have been doing."

"Would that be fair--to play the eaves-dropper?"