"But in that case," asked Joe, "why didn't he leave some word as to where he was going?"
"He may have been in too much of a hurry," suggested Blake, realizing that he was going to have considerable difficulty in keeping Joe from guessing the truth.
"Well, perhaps that's so," agreed the lad. "But maybe Mr. Stanton has some clues."
The lighthouse keeper came downstairs at this moment with a bundle of papers in his hand.
"Here is all I found," he said. "It isn't much, but among the things he left behind is the letter you wrote," and he extended to Joe the missive the lad had penned in such hope at Flagstaff.
"Poor Dad," murmured Joe. "I wonder if he will ever get this?"
Together he and Blake looked over the documents. As the keeper had said, there was not much. Some memoranda, evidently made as different clues came to him; paid bills, some business letters, a few notes, and that was all.
"What's this?" exclaimed Blake, as he read one letter. "It seems to be from some shipping agent in San Francisco, saying he can place—why, Joe, it's to your father, and it says he can have a place as mate any time he wants it. Was he a sailor?" he asked, eagerly, turning to the keeper.
"So I understood."
