“Yes, that’s his line,” said Joe.  “Mr. Ringold attends to the dramatic end of it.  We have done work for both branches.”

“So I was told,” went on Mr. Alcando.  “I asked to be assigned a teacher, and offered to pay well for it.  And Mr. Hadley at once suggested that you two boys would be the very ones who could best give me what I desired.

“He told me that you had just returned from the dangers of the Mississippi flood section, and were up here resting.  But I made so bold upon myself to come here to entreat you to let me accompany you to Panama.”

Mr. Alcando came to a stop after his rather lengthy and excited explanation.

“But Great Scott!” exclaimed Blake.  “We don’t know anything about going to Panama.  We haven’t the least idea of going there, and the first we’ve heard of it is the mention in this letter you bring from Mr. Hadley.”

“It sure is queer,” said Joe.  “I wonder if any of our mail—­”

He was interrupted by the sound of rapid footsteps, and a freckle-faced and red-haired boy, with a ragged straw hat, and no shoes came running up.

“Say—­say!” panted the urchin.  “I’m glad I found you.  Here’s a letter for you.  Pa—­pa—­he’s been carryin’ it around in his pocket, and when he changed his coat just now it dropped out.  He sent me down with it, lickity-split,” and the boy held out an envelope bearing a special delivery stamp.  Blake took the missive mechanically.

CHAPTER V

ANOTHER SURPRISE

While Blake was tearing off the end of the envelope, preparatory to taking out the enclosure, Joe looked sharply at the red-haired lad who had so unexpectedly delivered it.

“How’d your father come to get our letter, Sam?” asked Joe, for the lad was the son of a farmer, who lived neighbor to Mr. Baker.

“Sim Rolinson, the postmaster, give it to him, I guess,” volunteered Sam.  “Sim generally takes around the special delivery letters himself, but he must have been busy when this one come in, and he give it to pa.  Anyhow, pa says he asked him to deliver it.”

“Only he didn’t do it,” put in Joe.  “I thought something was the matter with our mail that we hadn’t heard from New York lately.  Your father was carrying the letter around in his pocket.”

“But he didn’t mean to!” spoke Sam quickly.  “He forgot all about it until to-day, when he was changing his coat, and it fell out.  Then he made me scoot over here with it as fast as I could.  He said he was sorry, and hoped he hadn’t done any damage.”

“Well, I guess not much,” Joe responded, for, after all, it was an accommodation to have the letters brought out from the post-office by the neighbors, as often happened.  That one should be forgotten, and carried in a pocket, was not so very surprising.

“Then you won’t make any fuss?” the barefoot lad went on, eagerly.