In New York "an arrest was shortly expected," but it didn't arrive. The
detectives were "saying nothing" and apparently doing nothing. Master
Anthony Harrington's picture was displayed on movie screens the country
over.
But out of all this hodge-podge of cooked up news and irresponsible
hints there remained just the one plausible clew to hang any hopes on
and that was trainman Hanlon's recollection of seeing a child in a
mackinaw jacket and carrying a jack-knife in the company of two men who
alighted from a northbound train at Catskill, within ten miles of Temple
Camp.
One other item of news interested the camp community, and that was that
boy scouts throughout the country had been asked to search for the
missing child.
Meanwhile, the kidnappers sat tight, expecting no doubt that their
demands for a large ransom would be more fruitful after the chances of
legitimate rescue had been exhausted. The great fortune of Anthony
Harrington of Wall Street was quite useless until a couple of ruffians
chose to say the word. And meanwhile, Master Anthony, Jr., might be
hacking himself all to pieces with a horrible jack-knife.
It was just when matters were at that stage that Pee-wee Harris, Elk
Patrol, First Bridgeboro Troop, went in swimming for the last time that
summer in the cooling water of Black Lake. He gave a terrific cry,
jumped on the springboard, howled for everybody to look, turned two
complete somersaults and went kerplunk into the water with a mighty
splash.
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