“Especially after such a pathetic message,” said Grace.  “Poor fellow!  His last big bill!”

“What makes you think it was a man?” asked Amy.

“That isn’t a girl’s writing,” insisted Grace.

“Fine!  You’ll be a detective if you keep on—­or should I say detectivess?” asked Mollie, with a laugh.

“I wonder what that note means?” inquired Mollie.

“Why,” said Betty, “it seems to indicate that some young man ran through a fortune—­or lost it—­and had only five hundred dollars left.  He was going to try to redeem his standing or wealth with this, and probably wrote this to remind himself not to fail.  I used to have a habit of leaving my room untidy, and Daddy suggested once that I write a notice to myself, and pin it where I would see it as I came out each morning.  I did, and I cured myself.  This young fellow probably tried the same system.”

“What makes you think he is young?” Grace wanted to know.

“I’m following your line of reasoning—­no elderly man would do anything like this—­write such a strange memorandum to himself.  I’m sure he is young.”

“And—­good-looking?” asked Amy, smiling.

“Let us hope so—­if we are to return the money to him in person,” suggested Mollie.

“Well, the best thing to do is to put that in some secure place, Betty,” advised Grace.  “Has your father a safe at home?”

“Yes.”

“Then let him keep it, and we can put an advertisement in the Banner.  ’Found—­a sum of money.  Owner can have same by proving property, and paying for this advertisement.’  How is that?”

“Wouldn’t you ask for a reward?” came from Mollie.

“The idea—­of course not!”

“But he might give us one,” suggested Amy, “without being asked.”

Then talking excitedly about the find, and speculating on how it could have come in the road, the girls accompanied Betty to her house.  Mrs. Nelson was duly astonished at the news, and agreed with the chums that the best plan was that suggested by Grace.  Accordingly, when Mr. Nelson came home, the bill and the queer attached note, were put in his safe.  Then an advertisement was telephoned to the paper.

“And now let’s talk about our Camping and Tramping Club,” proposed Betty, for her three chums had called that evening after supper.

“I spoke to mamma about it,” said Mollie, “and she said she thought I could go.  But we must stay with friends, or relatives, at night; she won’t let me put up at a hotel.”

“Of course not!” cried Betty—­“none of us will.  Now my plan is this:  Papa and mamma have a number of relatives living in distant towns, but all in this vicinity.  Probably you girls have some also.  Now, why couldn’t we arrange a tour that would take us on a circuit say of—­two hundred miles—­”

“Two hundred miles!” came in a horrified chorus.

“Why, yes, that’s not much.  We can take three weeks to it, and that’s only a little over ten miles a day—­not counting Sundays, of course.  If we can’t walk ten miles a day—­”