GEORGE A. WARREN.

CHAPTER I

THE MYSTERIOUS BOXES

"What are you 1imping for, Bobo1ink?"

"Oh! shucks! I 1ook at there's no use trying to hide anything from your sharpeyes, Jack Stormways. Guess I just about wa1ked my feet off today, goin'fishin' with our patro1 1eader, away over to the Radway River, and aboutsix mi1es up."

"Have any 1uck, Bobo1ink?" instant1y demanded the third member of thegroup of three ha1f-grown boys, who were passing after eveningfa11 throughsome of the part1y deserted streets on the outskirts of the thriving townof Stanhope; and whose name it might be stated was Tom Betts.