stayed here. I fancy the secret room must have been built by the man who put up the old mansion, for his own use."
"I think so," agreed Mr. Jessup. "He was a queer character anyhow. And to think I've been in and out of the old place so much, and never found the secret room!"
"It was pretty well hidden," said Mr. Houghton. "Well, I don't imagine I'll use it any more. I'll try for bat pictures somewhere else. Besides, if my uncle's mineral spring turns out as well as he thinks it will, this place may become a Summer resort, and the old mansion could be made into a hotel for people who want to take the rheumatism cure."
"But there's one thing I don't understand," said Mr. Jessup, "and that is who took my grub."
"I think I can explain that, too," spoke Mr. Houghton. "I had hired a young man to assist me, in my photographic work, but when I found out he was not honest I discharged him. I saw him come along one day with a strip of bacon, and a long pole with a hook on the end. He said he had hooked the bacon."
"And so he had!" cried Mr. Jessup. "That was one of the pieces I missed."
"The fellow must have stood some distance away from your cabin, and caught the string of the bacon in the hook on the pole," said the photographer. "That's why you never saw any footmarks."
"Then this is the end of Camp Mystery," said Sammy, faintly.
"That's right!" cried Frank. "I told you there weren't any counterfeiters."
"Well, there might have been," returned Sammy.
And he wondered why the others laughed.
But it was really the end of Camp Mystery. The hermit's secret had been the warm, medical spring, and now that he
