_In Which the Letter is Opened, Billy and Archie are Confronted by a
Cryptogram, and, Having Exercised Their Wits, Conclude that Somebody
is in Desperate Trouble_
It was a woman's doing. The signs of a woman were like print--little
tracks in the snow--a woman's little foot; and the snow was brushed by a
skirt. What woman? A girl? It was a romantic suggestion. Billy Topsail
was old enough to respond to the appeal of chivalry. A perception of
romance overwhelmed him. He was thrilled. He blushed. Reflecting, thus,
his thought tinged with the fancies of romance, his chivalry was fully
awakened. No; he would not open the letter. It was a woman's letter. An
impulse of delicacy forbade him to intrude. Wrong? Perhaps. Yet it was a
fine impulse. He indulged it. He stowed the letter away. And at dawn,
still in a chivalrous glow, he set out for Bread-and-Butter Tickle,
resolved to deliver the letter that night; and he was caught by dusk on
the ridge of Spear Head, with a flurry of wet snow in the wind and the
night threatening thick.
Having come to the edge of the moving ice, Billy Topsail looked across
to the lights of Bread-and-Butter.
"Might 's well," he decided.
Between Spear Head and Bread-and-Butter Tickle, that night, Billy
Topsail had a nip-and-tuck time of it. It was dark. Snow intermittently
obscured his objective. The ice was fragmentary--driving and revolving
in a slow wind. It was past midnight when he hauled down the heads of
Bread-and-Butter and knocked Archie Armstrong out of bed.
"Archie," said he, "I found a queer thing."
Archie's sleepiness vanished.
"Queer?" he demanded, eagerly. "Something queer? What is it?"
"'Tis a letter."
"A letter! Where is it?"
Billy related the circumstances of the discovery of the letter. Then he
said:
"'Tis a sealed letter. I wants t' show it t' Doctor Luke."
"He's not back."
"Not back? That's queer!"
"Oh, no," said Archie, easily; "the case has turned out to be more
serious than he thought and has detained him. Where's the letter?"
Billy gave the letter to Archie.
"Bread-and-Butter," Archie read. "No other address. That _is_ queer.
What shall we do about it?"
"I don't know," Billy replied. "What do _you_ say?"
"I say open it," said Archie, promptly.
"Would you?"
"There's nothing else to do. Open it, of course! It is addressed to
Bread-and-Butter. Well, we're in Bread-and-Butter. Doctor Luke isn't
here. If he were, he'd open it. There is something in this letter that
somebody ought to know at once. I'm going to open it."
"All right," Billy agreed.
Archie opened the letter and stared and frowned and pursed his lips.
"What does it say?" said Billy.
"I can't make it out. Have a try yourself. Here--read it if you can."
Billy was confronted by a cryptogram:
_Dokr com quk pops goncras im ferd_
"What do you make of it?" said Archie.
"I'm not much of a hand at readin'," Billy replied; "but I knows that
first word there or I misses my guess."
"What is it?"
"D-O-K-R. That means what it sounds like. It means _Doctor_."
Archie exclaimed.
"That's it!" said he. "And the second word's plain. C-O-M--that's
_Come_."
"'_Doctor, come_,'" said Billy.
"Right. Somebody's in trouble. Deep trouble, too. The third word is
_Quick_. '_Doctor, come quick._' We're right so far. P-O-P-S. What's
that?"
"It means _Father_."
"Right. '_Doctor, come quick. Pop's----_' What now? 'G-O-N-C-R-A-S.'
What in the world is that? It must be a kind of sickness. Can't you
guess it, Billy?"
Billy puzzled.
"G-O-N-C-R-A-S. I don't know what it means."
"Anyhow," Archie put in, "the next word must be _I'm_. Don't you think
so, Billy? No? Looks like that. Hum-m! Look here, Billy--what's F-E-R-D?
What does it sound like?"
"Sounds like _feared_."
"Of course it does! That's right! '_I'm afeared._' Billy, this is a
pretty serious matter. Why should the writer of this be afraid? Eh? You
think a woman wrote the letter? Well, she's afraid of something. And
that something must be the sort of sickness her father has. Shake your
nut, Billy. What sort of sickness could she be afraid of?"
"G-O-N-C-R-A-S. Gon-cras."
"Gon-cras. Gon-cras. Gon-cras."
"_Gone_," Billy suggested.
"_Crazy!_" cried Archie.
"Right!" said Billy.
"We've got it!" Archie exulted. "'_Doctor, come quick. Pop's gone crazy.
I'm afeared._' That's the message. What shall we do?"
"We can't do anything now."
"How's the ice on the Arm, Billy?"
"Movin' out. A man couldn't cross now. I barely made it."
"Will the Arm be free in the morning?"
"No; it will not. The Arm will be fit for neither foot nor punt in the
morning. T' get t' Poor Luck Barrens a man would have t' skirt the Arm
t' Rattle Water an' cross the stream."
"We'll have to do something, Billy. We can't leave that poor girl alone
with a madman."
"We'll tell Doctor Luke----"
"Yes; but what if Doctor Luke isn't back in the morning?"
"We'll go ourselves."
Archie started.
"Go?" he inquired, blankly. "Go _where_? We don't know where this letter
came from. It isn't signed."
"Ah, well," said Billy, "somebody in Bread-and-Butter will know. Let's
turn in, Archie. If we're t' take the trail the morrow, we must have
rest."
And they turned in.