CHAPTER XXV

MAKING PLANS

While her girl friends looked on wonderingly, and while Mrs. Brownley conversed in low tones with the hotel clerk, Sylvia tore open the envelope that had been handed her. It bore her name, but she noted in a flash that it was written in a scrawl, and not in the usually neat, though character-indicating, chirography of Harry Montray. For Sylvia had had several letters from him regarding her brother since the trouble had come to him, and she had always admired the firm handwriting of the young man who had proved such a friend to Roy.

"He must have written this in a hurry," was Sylvia's thought as she took from the torn envelope the single sheet of paper.

And as she glanced at the signature, making sure, first of all, that it was Harry's, the vague sense of foreboding increased.

Why had Roy left the camp-hotel so suddenly? Why had he not been content to stay at Loneberg until he had recovered? Whence his sudden determination to go some distance off and visit friends in a bungalow? And who were the friends?

These were questions Sylvia hastily asked herself before she read the letter so strangely left for her. But perhaps a perusal of it would settle them. She read:

"DEAR MISS PURSELL.

"Please excuse the appearance of this note, as I have but a moment to write it in, and must do it when Roy does not see me. I am leaving it with the clerk, in the hope that you will soon come and claim it.

"I regret to inform you that Roy, after showing every indication of recovery (except for a few relapses of which I informed you), has taken a sudden turn for the worse to-day--the day when he and I expected you. He now insists on going to visit some friends who have a bungalow on the eastern shore of Lower Saranac Lake. Nothing I can say or do will get that notion out of his head. I do not know what to do about it, save humour him.

"The name of these friends is Russman. Mr. Russman is a German whom, it seems, Roy met while at college, and also later, after he came to our firm. Mr. Russman is a chemist, and Roy has a notion he can help him in recalling the details of the lost formula. I do not know whether that is fancy or fact. At any rate, Roy insists on going to see Mr. Russman, and, of course, I must go with him.

"We are starting at once, and will drive as best we can across country. The roads are not good, and it would be much better to go by water, up through Middle Saranac, but Roy will not listen to that.

"I am writing this as he is packing. I will do the best I can for him, but I think it will be wise, when you get this, to come to Mr. Russman's bungalow as soon as you can."

There followed directions for reaching it.

"Roy only heard the other day," the letter went on, "of the presence of Mr. Russman in this vicinity, and he at once became more nervous than before. The forgetting of the chemical formula seemed more than ever to prey on his mind. That is why I sent you word that he was not as well as he had been. But perhaps this trip may do him good, especially if it is followed by a visit from you and your friends. If I may, without giving offence, I will say that I think if Miss Rose Bancroft were to come Roy would greatly appreciate it."

"I must show Rose that," Sylvia mentally resolved.

"So we are leaving at once," the missive concluded, "and I hope you will follow as soon as you can. But if it is late when you get this, you had better postpone your trip until to-morrow. Come by water, if possible, and come straight to the bungalow. I will be there with Roy.

"With the best of wishes, I remain,

"Yours faithfully,

"HARRY MONTRAY."

Sylvia drew a long breath as she finished the letter.

"Oh, I hope it isn't bad news!" exclaimed Hazel.

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Alice.

"Where is Roy?" inquired Rose, unable longer to keep back the question that was fairly burning on her lips.

"At the Russman bungalow, on Lower Saranac," slowly answered Sylvia. "Oh, dear! I don't know what to do!"

"Tell me all about it, and let me advise you," said Mrs. Brownley. The letter was read to the chaperon and the girls, and Rose was given her own special message. She received it, as may well be imagined, blushingly.

"I will go to him!" she exclaimed. "Can we start now, Sylvia?"

"I'm afraid not," was the answer. "Harry--Mr. Montray--advises against starting too late. And we certainly would hardly be able to take the road through the wood at this hour."

"But what can we do?" asked Alice.

"I think we had better arrange to stay here for the night, or, better perhaps," said Mrs. Brownley, "go back to Saranac Inn. We can start from there in the morning, hire a motor boat if we can get one, and go through Middle Saranac Lake to Lower, and then on to the bungalow."

There was a moment of silence while Sylvia and the girls considered this plan. Then Sylvia said:

"I think that will be the best. It seems hard not to go to Roy at once, but we must consider the best for all of us. It would not do to get lost in the woods. So we will delay our start until morning."

"And shall we stay here to-night?" asked Rose.

"I think we had better go back to Saranac," suggested Mrs. Brownley. "Probably there are not accommodations enough here for all of us, and besides, if we go to Lower Saranac we may have to stay some time, and will want our luggage."

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't put you all up," said the clerk of the camp-hotel. "There are, of course, the rooms Mr. Pursell and Mr. Montray had, but----"

"Thank you, we will go back to the Inn, and start from there in the morning," Sylvia decided. "We have no baggage with us."

Thus it was decided, and the man with the horses was directed to get ready for the return trip. Sylvia and the others of her party had tea at the camp, and the clerk told them more details of the going away of Roy and his friend. Roy had seemed strangely excited, the clerk said, at the prospect of going to the Russman bungalow.

Sylvia could not shake off a morbid fear that something would happen--nay, that it had already happened. But she tried to be brave, and not to inflict her grief on the others.

However, Rose shared it, though she, too, put on a brave front. But Hazel and Alice must have suspected, for they were sweetly sympathetic.

Harry Montray had had time only hastily to scribble the note, and leave it with him for Sylvia, the clerk said, and then he had gone off with Roy in a rig they hired to drive through the woods from Lake Clear to Lower Saranac.

"But I would not advise you ladies to take that route," the young man said.

"We will not," decided Sylvia. "We'll go by boat."

They reached Saranac Inn well in time for dinner, and then began their arrangements for making an early morning start for the lower lake and the bungalow.

"Do you think your brother would be a guest there?" asked Alice.

"Most likely," Sylvia answered. "You see he and Mr. Russman--Professor Russman it really is--are great friends. I have often heard Roy speak of him, and he has often visited him at his home in Brooklyn."

"Well, then it won't be so bad if he goes there and stays," Hazel remarked. "It may even do him good. Who knows but that he may hit upon that formula again?"

"Oh, perhaps it will be all right--if Roy gets there," his sister said, and there was something in her voice and manner that prompted Rose to ask:

"Why, Sylvia, don't you think he _will_ get there?"

"Oh, my dear--I don't know--please don't ask me. I have such a queer feeling!"

"You're all tired out--that's what's the matter!" declared Hazel. "You need a good rest. We have been doing too much dancing."

"No, it isn't that," Sylvia said.

"Well, whatever it is, you need a rest," added Alice. "You lie down now, and we'll pack your things for you. Not going to take a trunk; are you?"

"No, only our suit-cases, though we can't tell how long we shall stay."

"Can we stay at the bungalow?" asked Hazel.

"Oh, I don't know about that. But if we get up there we can hardly get back the same day, and we'll have to stay somewhere. There are hotels and camps up there, I think. We'll have to arrange to stay."

"Of course," said Rose. "We don't want to go away as soon as we have arrived."

"Then, too, I must see about getting a boat," went on Sylvia.

"I asked about that," Mrs. Brownley said. "The hotel clerk informs me there are several we can hire to take us to Lower Saranac. I have the names of the men who run them. I'll go now to see about them. You _must_ get some rest, Sylvia."

"Oh, I'm not tired. I must see to the boat myself. This is my affair, in a way."

"It's the affair of _all_ of us!" declared Alice. "You can't do everything. I'll go with Aunt Theodora and see about the boat. You can finish packing and be ready to lie down then. Just leave it to us!"

And poor tired and worried Sylvia was glad enough to do so.

Mrs. Brownley was eminently practical in arranging for the motor boat. She had the choice of several, but, on the advice of Alice, selected a rather small one.

"The big ones look nicer," Alice said, "but you must remember we have to go through the Saranac River from the middle lake to the upper, and we don't want a boat that draws too much water. Canoes can make the trip all right, but a motor boat of deep draught might not be able to if the water, for any reason, were low. We don't want to be stranded."

"No, indeed," agreed the chaperon. So the smaller boat, though one sufficiently large, was engaged.

"But I'm only at liberty for to-morrow," the pilot informed them. "I'll have to come back with my boat to-morrow night, as another party has engaged her."

"We only want you to take us up to the Russman bungalow and leave us," said Mrs. Brownley.

So it was arranged, and the next morning our friends were to start on their trip through the two lakes to reach the bungalow.