“Look!” she exclaimed.  “A five hundred dollar bill is pinned to this paper!  A five hundred dollar bill, girls!”

CHAPTER II

THE TRAMPING CLUB

With staring eyes, and with breaths that were labored, the three chums gathered about Betty.  She held the bill, and the paper pinned to it, stretched tightly between her slim fingers.

“Is it—­is it real?” gasped Grace.

“Of course it’s real,” declared Amy.

“How do you know?” asked Mollie.  “I confess I never saw a five hundred dollar bill all at once before.”

“Did you see it in pieces?” asked Grace.  “What a lot of money!”

“How many pounds of chocolates would it buy?” asked Amy, with a laugh.

“Don’t you dare say chocolate to me!” commanded Grace.

“It is real,” went on Betty, who had not spoken since picking up the money.  “There’s no doubt of that.”

“If findings were keepings you’d be well off,” said Mollie.  “How lucky you are!” and sighed.

“Of course I can’t keep it,” decided Betty.  “But I wonder who could have dropped it?” and she looked up at the railroad bridge over their heads, as if she might see some one standing there waiting for the return of the bill.

“What is that paper pinned to it?” asked Grace, as she took hold of it while Betty held the bank note by the two ends.

“That’s so—­I forgot to look at that,” said the finder.  She turned it over.  There was some writing on it.  It said: 

“_ This is my last five hundred dollar bill—­all that is left of my fortune.  This is to remind me that if I don’t make good use of this I don’t deserve any more luck.  It is make or break with me now!  Which will it be?_”

The girls were silent for a moment or two after reading this strange message that had come to them in such a queer manner.  Then Betty said: 

“Girls, what do you make of it?”

“It’s a joke!” declared Grace.

“It sounds far from being a joke,” spoke Betty, seriously.  “Girls, there may be a grim tragedy here.”

“How romantic!” sighed Mollie.  “What shall we do with the money?”

“We must take it home and consult our folks about it,” decided Betty.  “I’ll ask papa—­and you might refer the question to yours, Amy.  Being a broker, he’s quite likely to know about such things, and can tell us what to do.  This is quite a lot of money to lose, I wonder how we can find the owner?”

“Advertise?”

“Maybe there’ll be a notice in the post office.”

“It can’t have been here very long.  Perhaps we’ll meet whoever it belongs to, coming back to look for it,” spoke Grace.

Thus came some opinions, and while various others were rapidly formed and expressed, and as the girls are speculating on how the bill, and the attached paper, came to lie so openly on the highway, I hope I may be permitted to insert here a little descriptive matter that will, perhaps, give the reader a clearer understanding of the characters of this story.