“It’s the blue box, sure enough,” said Joe.
“And we came close to burning it up!” groaned Ned. “Oh, Joe, I am so sorry!”
“It’s not your fault, Ned, I was as much to blame as anybody. But who would look for the box out here?”
“Perhaps some wild animal carried it off.”
“That may be.”
Joe had the box cleaned off by this time. It was still hot at one end and smoking. He tried to pull it open, but found it locked.
“The contents will burn up before I can open it!” cried Joe.
He did not know what to do, and in desperation began to pry at the box with his stick and his jackknife. Then the box broke open, scattering some half-burnt papers in all directions.
The boys picked the papers up and also a small bag of buckskin. When Joe opened the bag he found it contained exactly a hundred dollars in gold.
“That’s a nice find,” said Ned. “Anyway, you are a hundred dollars richer than you were.”
Joe began to peruse the half-burnt documents but could make little or nothing out of them. He saw his own name and also that of a certain William A. Bodley, and an estate in Iowa was mentioned.
“What do you find, Joe?”
“I can’t tell you, Ned. The papers are too badly burnt.”
“Let me look at them.”
Our hero was willing, and the two boys spent an hour in trying to decipher the documents.
“It is certainly a puzzle,” said the rich boy. “Why not let my father look over them?”
Joe was willing, and after wrapping up the documents with care, and pocketing the hundred dollars in gold, Joe led the way back to the boat. The wreck of the blue box was left behind, for it was rusty and worthless.
“That evening Mr. Talmadge, Ned and Joe spent two hours in going over the documents and trying to supply the parts which had been rotted or burnt away. They were only successful in part.
“I do not wish to say much about this, Joe,” said Ned’s father. “But it would seem from these papers that you are the son of one William A. Bodley, who at one time owned a farm in Iowa, in the township of Millville. Did you ever hear Hiram Bodley speak of this?”
“Never.”
“We might write to the authorities at Millville and see what they have to say.”
“I wish you’d do it. They may pay more attention to you than to a boy.”
“I’ll write at once.”
“Father, hadn’t Joe better stay here until we get a reply?” put in Ned.
“He may do so and welcome,” answered Mr. Talmadge.
The letter was dispatched the next day and our hero waited anxiously for the reply. It came five days later and was as follows:
“Your letter of inquiry received. There was a William A. Bodley in this township twelve years ago. He sold his farm to a man named Augustus Greggs and then disappeared. Before he sold out he lost his wife and several children by sickness. Nobody here seems to know what became of him.
“Joseph Korn.”
“That is short and to the point,” said Mr. Talmadge, “but it is not satisfying. It does not state if this William A. Bodley had any relatives so far as known.”
“I guess the authorities did not want to bother about the matter,” said Joe.
“Why don’t you visit Millville, Joe?” questioned Ned.
“I was thinking I could do that. It wouldn’t cost a fortune, and I’ve got that hundred dollars in gold to fall back on, besides my regular savings.”
“You might learn something to your advantage,” came from Mr. Talmadge. “I think it would be money well spent.”
“Father, can’t I go with Joe?” asked Ned.
“No, Ned, you must attend to your school duties.”
“Then, Joe, you must send me full particulars by mail,” said the rich boy.
“Of course I’ll do that, Ned,” replied our hero.
It was arranged that Joe should leave Riverside on Monday and Ned went to the depot to see him off.
“I wish you the best of luck, Joe!” called out Ned, as the train left the station. “I don’t know of a fellow who deserves better luck than you do!”