"No. Uncle John is waiting for you. He is in the woodshed, trying on some old rubber boots. He says one ought to have rubber boots to go into the swamp with."
Dick hurried to the woodshed and there found that Mr. Laning had unearthed two pairs of boots, and he donned one pair while the farmer put on the other. A little later both got in the buggy and drove up the road they had traveled the night previous. Then they tied the horse to a tree, and followed the path leading to the edge of the swamp.
"Hullo, the hat is gone!" exclaimed Dick, as he came close to the black pool.
"Maybe it dropped to the ground," suggested John Laning.
Both looked around, but could see nothing of the missing head covering.
Then Dick caught sight of a slip of paper pinned to the tree.
"Here is a message of some kind," he said, and read it. The message ran as follows:
"I reckon I fooled you this trip. I was up in the tree all the time. By the time you get this I shall be miles away. Ta ta until the next time."
"Humph!" muttered Dick. "What do you think of that?" And he passed the message to his companion.
"He certainly fooled us," answered Mr. Laning. "I suppose those yells were only to put us off our guard. It's a pity we didn't carry his hat off for a souvenir of the occasion--as you youngsters put it." And the farmer grinned.
"Perhaps he is still around," suggested Dick. "If he tried to fool us once he might try to fool us again."
"That's so, too. It won't do any harm to take a good look around while we are at it, Dick."
They spent the whole of the morning walking around the swamp and in trying to trace the movements of Merrick, but without success. Nothing concerning the rascal was to be found, and when they felt both tired out and hungry they returned to the Stanhope cottage. Here the girls and the ladies had a hot dinner awaiting them and served them liberally, finishing up with apple pie that Dora had made for Dick's especial benefit.
"It's fine!" he said to her, on the sly.
"Then you like it?" she answered, with a smile.
"Do I? Dora, when we're keeping house you shall make me a pie like this twice a week," he added, earnestly.
"Dick, if you don't stop your joking----"
"Oh, I'm not joking, Dora. Of course, if you're not willing to make me a pie now and then----"
"Oh, it isn't that--I'll make all the pies you want. But--but----" And then Dora blushed so furiously that she had to run from the room. Dick looked after her longingly and heaved a mountainous sigh. He wished that all his academy days were over and that he was engaged in business and settled down in life. He knew just what kind of a home he wanted, and who he wanted in it besides himself--and perhaps Dora knew, too.
"But I can't think of those things yet," he mused, as he finished his dinner. "I've got to go out into the world first, get into business, and prove my worth."
The meal over, it was decided that Dick and Mr. Laning should drive to Cedarville and get into communication with the local authorities and also the authorities at Ithaca. This was done, and the following day another hunt was made for Merrick. But he could not be found; and there, for the time being, the affair rested.
"I think we'll hear from him again some day," said Dick, and he was right; they did hear from the swindler, and when they least expected it.
CHAPTER XXI
A BOB SLED RACE
"Whoop! hurrah! it's snowing!"
Thus shouted Tom one day, as he burst into the library of the Hall, where Dick, Sam and a number of others were perusing books and the latest magazines.
"Hard?" queried Sam, dropping the magazine he held.
"No, but steady. Peleg Snuggers says it is going to be a heavy fall, and he generally knows."
"And he loves snowstorms so," put in Fred, with a laugh. "Do you remember the time we made a big fort and had a regular battle?"
"Indeed I do!" cried Larry. "It was great! We ought to have something of that sort this winter."
"I was hoping we'd get skating before it snowed," put in Songbird.
"Well, we can't have all the good things at once," answered Dick. "I think a heavy snowstorm is jolly. Somehow, when it snows I always feel like whistling and singing."
"And I feel like making up verses," murmured the poet of the school, and went on:
"Oh, the snow, the beautiful snow, Coming down when the wind does blow.
Coming down both day and night, Leaving the earth a wonderful sight!
Oh, the snow, the heavenly snow!----"
"Wetting our feet wherever we go!"
continued Tom, and added:
"Oh, the snow, When the wind doth blow, It sets a pace And hits our face And we are froze Down to the toes And in the slush, That's just like mush, We cannot stop, But go ker-flop!"
"Tom, the first thing you know, you'll be taking Songbird's laurels away from him," observed Larry.
"Perish the thought!" answered the fun-loving Rover, tragically.
"I don't hope you call that poetry," came from Songbird, in deep disgust. "Why, Hans can do better than that; can't you, Dutchy?"
"Sure, I can make up some find boetry," answered Hans. "Chust you listen to dis. I make him ub von night ven I couldn't go to sleep."
"Der vos a leetle pird, He sits ubon a dree, Dot leetle pird vos habby Like von leetle pird could be A hunter mit a gun Py dot tree did lay, He shoot his awful gun, And dot pird--he fly avay!
"Good for Hans!" cried Dick, and there was a general laugh. Then the gathering in the library broke up and all the cadets went outside to see how the snow looked. Before long there was enough on the ground to make snowballs, and then a battle royal all around ensued. So long as they took care not to break any windows, Captain Putnam did not mind this, and from his office the master of the Hall and George Strong watched the sport.
"Makes one feel young again," remarked the captain to his first assistant.
"I'd half like to go out myself," answered George Strong.
"I remember one year we had a great snowball fight at West Point," went on the captain. "It was carried out in regular army fashion and lasted half a day. Our side was victorious, but we had to fight desperately to win. I was struck in the chin and the ear, and three of the cadets were knocked unconscious. But it was good practice, for it showed us something of what a hand-to-hand struggle meant."
The snow came down all that day and night, and by the following morning covered the ground to the depth of about a foot. It was somewhat moist and first-class for the making of snow men and snowballs.