“What are you frowning so much about, Andy?” “And look at him shake his head, Frank; just for all the world like he’s gone and lost his best friend!” “Well, perhaps he has fellows,” laughed Frank Bird, promptly. “At any rate, my poor cousin’s heart is nearly broken into flinders, just because he can’t for the life of him remember what he did with that wonderful little tool he invented.” “Oh! say, is that what it’s all about?” cried Larry Geohegan; “I guess now, you mean the handy aluminum monkey wrench that always kept its jaws locked after you set ’em? Too bad, Andy. Wish you luck in finding it again.” “Yes, that’s it, fellows!” exclaimed the sorrowful one, quickly. “Tell me, have either of you set eyes on the little jewel since—well, say last Saturday noon?” “Huh! just why do you go and pick out that day, of all the blessed week?” demanded “Elephant” Small, a boy who had been given this nickname in derision, since he was anything but ponderous; and who at home chanced to be called Fenimore Cooper. “I’ll tell you,” replied Andy Bird, promptly; “honestly then, because that’s the last time I can remember handling the same. I was tightening up a nut that had come loose on my bike—perhaps you may have seen me do it.” “Oh! yes,” remarked Larry, the fourth member of the group, “that was the day we took that long spin on our wheels, and Frank cooked us a bully good camp dinner when we rested on the side of Thunder Top mountain, wasn’t it?” “Sure it was,” responded Andy. “And just before we got ready to start off again I fastened that bolt. Then it was goodbye to my dandy little wrench, that I always expected to make a bushel of money patenting some fine day.”