“I smell oil!” exclaimed Toby, “and that’s what’s oozing out of the ground right here where the man was grubbing with his tool! Jack, that was what he was looking for, wasn’t it? And you must have known something about it right along, now I stop to think of a whole lot of things that have happened.”

Jack was busy bending down and examining the oil-soaked earth. He even went to the trouble of taking some of it and wrapping it in a piece of waterproof paper he was carrying in his pocket; just as though he had prepared himself for just such an occasion, the observing Toby thought.

“I know you’re burning with curiosity to know what it means, Toby,” he went on to say, “and I’ve finally made up my mind to explain the solution of all this mystery, as well as tell you who and what that man is. But you’ll have to content yourself with figuring out as many explanations as you please between now and tonight, for I don’t want to say a word until Steve is also present. I take it you’ve got head enough to reason things out after a fashion, and grasp the answer. So don’t ask me any questions, because I won’t answer until after supper.”

116“Then I won’t tell Steve a single thing about this affair,” Toby went on to say, although he looked a bit disappointed, because with noon still an hour away it would be a terribly long time until they had seen the sun go down, and eaten their evening meal.

“I think it would be best not to get him excited in the bargain,” advised Jack. “It’s going to be a great surprise to Steve, too, because he hasn’t been as keen as you on the scent, and is more in the dark.”

“And seeing this monster bass will be all the excitement he can stand at a time,” chuckled Toby, beginning to make the best of the situation, for he was usually an easy fellow to get along with, and Jack knew how to handle him splendidly.

They started off again, but not before Jack carefully concealed the tracks they had made. This he did to prevent the man from making a discovery should he again visit the spot, which he was very likely to do, since it would naturally have a species of fascination for him henceforth.

It was difficult for Toby to talk on any other subject while his mind was filled with the strange actions of the man who seemed to resent their presence in the neighborhood. Therefore he had little to say on the balance of the way back to camp, though Jack knew he must be doing considerable thinking, that would cover every angle of the case.

Of course Steve was delighted when he saw the 117 monster bass. He admired it from every angle; though Toby took particular notice that Steve seemed more interested in the glorious dish it would make when cooked than in the great fight it had put up when at the end of Jack’s line.

“Do you know I was just hoping you’d fetch such a dandy fish home with you,” he went on to say, delightedly; “because I’ve made all arrangements to bake it in an oven of my own manufacture. I’ve dug a hole in the hard clay here, and when we’ve had lunch I mean to heat it furiously with red embers. Then I’ll wrap that fish in a wet cloth and lay it inside, after which my oven will be sealed over to keep the heat in for hours. That’s the old hunter’s oven, and they do say it is the originator of all these new-fangled fireless cookers, as well as the Thermos bottles that keep things hot or cold for a whole day.”

“Good boy, Steve!” cried Toby, slapping the big chum on the back affectionately. “You’ve got a head on you after all, sure you have.”

Steve looked as though he considered this a dubious compliment, since it seemed to imply that Toby must have at times doubted the truth of his assertion. But Jack, after examining the earth oven, declared that it was sure to work splendidly.

“And six hours or so ought to be really enough to cook a fish, especially if we get it as hot as we can,” he assured the architect.

In due time this was carried out. Plenty of 118 red embers were placed in the hole in the hard clay, and covered over; still more being added until the place was furiously hot. Then the ashes being taken out the cleaned fish was placed carefully within, after which the top was sealed over with wet clay, making the oven a “hermetically sealed one,” as Steve proudly proclaimed.

That was the longest afternoon Toby Hopkins ever knew during the entire course of his young life. He seemed to look up at the sun forty times, as though resting under a grave suspicion that some modern Joshua might have commanded it to “stand still.” Steve began to notice his actions, and seemed puzzled to account for them, being wholly unsuspicious of the real cause.

He even at one time about the middle of the afternoon sought Jack out, finding him working at his negatives; for he had fetched along a little daylight developing tank, and had already announced himself as well pleased with what the results seemed to promise.

“Jack, see here, there’s something wrong with our Toby,” Steve said in a cautious voice, although the object of his remark being some distance away there was not the slightest chance of his overhearing anything.

Jack knew what was coming, but he did not even smile.

“Why, what makes you say that, Steve?” he asked, solicitously.

“He’s acting so queer that I’m afraid the poor 119 fellow must be going looney,” Steve told him, with a ring of sincere regret in his voice.

“Queer in what way?” asked the other, continuing his work.

“Oh! in lots of ways,” sighed Steve. “For one thing he can’t keep still a minute, but jumps up, and walks around nervously. Then he’s always looking up at the sun, and shaking his head as if he couldn’t make things out. I’ve seen him looking at you as if he had a grudge he was nursing. Now something has happened to Toby since he left camp this morning, and I’d like to know what it is.”

“Why, nothing has happened to him except that he’s seen a lot of interesting things, the same as I have. We mean to speak of them after supper, while we lie around taking our ease, you know. Don’t worry about Toby; I give you my word the boy is all right. Little danger of him ever losing his head.”

“Why, I even asked him point-blank what ailed him, and if he felt any way sick, but do you know, he just smiled at me, and shrugged his shoulders in the silliest way ever. Yes, and would you believe me, Jack, he gave me a queer look and said: ‘I’m not a bit sick, I tell you; I’m only tired of waiting,’ and Jack, he wouldn’t even explain what he meant by that. Even if you don’t feel bothered I do, and there’s something knocking in Toby’s brain right now, I tell you. That boy has got something on his mind.”

120“Listen, Steve,” chuckled the amused Jack. “There may be a method in Toby’s seeming madness. Remember the old story of the doctor who, being called in to prescribe for an old gentleman addicted to much dram drinking, put him on a strict allowance of one drink a day, which was to be taken when he sent downstairs for his hot water for shaving. Some days afterwards, chancing to be in the neighborhood again, he stopped at the door to ask how the old party was getting on. To his surprise the butler held up his hands, and looked very solemn as he declared that he very much feared his master was going out of his mind.

“‘And why do you fear that, James?’ the doctor asked, alarmed.

“‘Because, Doctor,’ said the butler, ‘every hour of the day the master insists on sending down for hot shaving water!’ And so you see, Steve, there was a method in his madness, for the doctor knew why he wanted that hot water. You give Toby credit for being a sensible chap. He’s only counting the minutes until that fine fish is done to a turn, and you sound the gong for supper.”

Steve looked a trifle relieved after that, though he still continued to watch the uneasy Toby from time to time, and could be seen shaking his head as if his doubts had returned in full force.

Slowly but surely the glowing orb dropped closer toward the horizon. A doomed prisoner in his cell might have watched its going with dread, 121 as the setting of the sun would bring the hour of his execution nearer; but with Toby it was just the opposite, and he counted every minute as so much gain.

Steve had evidently gauged the appetites of his chums by his own, and fearing the big fish might not go around for a third helping had prepared a panful of the smaller bass besides.

“You never can tell the first time you try out a new dodge,” he offered in explanation of his bountiful provision, “and if after all my oven failed to cook in seven hours why where would we be at for supper tonight, I’d like to know. I’m a great hand for preparedness, you must know, fellows; and here’s a fair taste all around, no matter what happens to the roast fish.”

“But isn’t it time we began to get busy eating,” sighed Toby, looking so woe-begone that Steve, under the impression he must be almost starved, thrust a lot of soda crackers and a piece of cheese into his hand, saying sympathetically:

“There, that will take some of the gnawing away, Toby, and keep you up another half hour. I know how you feel, because haven’t I been there myself many a time? I mean to take a look-in at my dandy oven soon, and if everything is lovely we can start business at the old stand right away.”

Poor anxious Toby, how he did suffer. Evidently he had not been able wholly to clutch the truth, strive as he might; and the solution of the mystery seemed to be dangling there just beyond 122 his reach, as though to tantalize him. Jack himself wished the time would hurry and come so that he might keep his word and “lift the lid,” in the way of explanations.

When Steve went to take a look at the oven Toby insisted on accompanying him; and when the chef declared that the fish was done to a turn Toby beamed with positive delight, as though the long agonizing period of his waiting was now surely drawing near an end.

The big fish was simply elegant. The boys used up all the available adjectives at their command in order to do the subject ample justice. Never had a fish been better baked. Steve looked as proud as any peacock that strutted along a wall in self-admiration. He even promised to repeat the prize supper, if only Toby could duplicate Jack’s catch.

Again and again they all passed in for more until not only the big fish was utterly gone but serious inroads had been made by them in the other mess.

“You see, I gauged our appetites fairly well after all,” Steve was saying, as if to clear himself of any reproach along the lines of greediness.

At length they one and all declared they were through, whereupon Toby sat up eagerly, and turned an appealing face toward Jack.

“The time has come for you to keep your promise, Jack,” he went on to say, considerably to the amazement of Steve. “So please start in and tell 123 us who that man is we saw digging today; what he’s after up here in the Pontico Hills; and just who the rich old lady in Chester may be who put up the cash to finance this expedition. The whole story, mind, and nothing held back.”