No, this Dale Wacker had a hand in this disappearance. Perhaps poor Markham met him and fled, and is in hiding. We may hear from him yet."
"But, Frank," suggested Mrs. Ismond in a broken tone of voice, "we are sure now that Markham was a—a bad boy."
"Why so?"asked Frank.
"He was the inmate of a reformatory."
"When I think of the old wasted days in my own life when I ran away from home," said Frank, "and the evil men I met who would have got me into any kind of trouble to further their own schemes, and I Innocently walking into their trap, I shall give Markham the benefit of a doubt, every time. What right have we to assume that he was not a victim of wrong? No, no! He was a true friend, an honest worker. I won't desert or forget him until I have cleared up all this mystery."
Frank was up before five o'clock the next morning. He had just finished cutting a week's supply of kindling wood in the wood shed, when Stet popped into view over the back fence.
Stet tried to look like a real detective. He glanced back over his shoulder. He even said "Hist!" in first hailing Frank. Then he asked:
"Going away to-day?"
