“I AM SORRY YOU INTERFERED WITH US,” SAID THE MAN. “YOU’LL FIND
BEFORE LONG THAT YOU HAVE DONE WRONG.” Page 57.
The
Blue Grass Seminary Girls
On the Water
OR
Exciting Adventures on a Summer Cruise
Through the Panama Canal
By Carolyn Judson Burnett
AUTHOR OF
“The Blue Grass Seminary Girls’ Vacation Adventures,”
“The Blue Grass Seminary Girls in the Mountains,”
“The Blue Grass Seminary
Girls’ Christmas Holidays.”
A. L. BURT COMPANY
PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
Copyright, 1916
By A. L. Burt Company
THE BLUE GRASS SEMINARY GIRLS ON THE WATER
THE BLUE GRASS SEMINARY GIRLS ON THE WATER.
CHAPTER I.—PLANNING A TRIP.
“Dad, we want to take a trip.”
The speaker was Shirley Willing, a typical Kentucky girl, slender of figure, vivacious of manner, and extremely pretty. With her father, she stood on the big, sunny front porch of the Willing farmhouse. As she again was about to address her father, a second young girl, who, it could be seen at a glance, was of about Shirley’s years, joined them.
This was Mabel Ashton, Shirley’s particular friend and life chum. Shirley greeted her with a smile, and Mr. Willing’s face also wrinkled pleasantly.
“I was just telling Dad that we want to take a trip this summer,” explained Shirley.
Mabel smiled.
“We have talked it all over,” she agreed, “and we just want to go some place.”
“Where?” asked Mr. Willing briefly.
“Why, we—we—want to go to—to—where is it we want to go, Shirley?” asked Mabel in some confusion.
“We hadn’t decided on that yet, Dad,” laughed Shirley. “But we don’t want to stay here on this old farm all summer.”
“And what are you going to do with both your old Dads—leave them behind?” asked Mr. Willing seriously.
“We would like to have you go with us, Dad, but we know you won’t.”
“Why won’t we?”
“Well, I—we,—I—you never have gone with us.”
“It’s never too late to mend our ways,” declared her father dryly. “Perhaps we shall this time.”
Both girls clapped their hands, and scampered about the porch eagerly. At last Shirley stopped her antics, and standing directly before her father, took him by the coat with both hands.
“Do you mean it, Dad?” she asked.
Mr. Willing nodded.
“Yes. Ashton and I have decided that the next time you two youngsters go away from home we are going with you. When you are by yourselves you get into too much mischief. Now where is it you want to go?”
“We haven’t the slightest idea,” was the reply.
Mr. Willing turned to Mabel.
“You call your father out here and we’ll talk this thing over,” he told her.
Mabel hastened to obey, and while she is searching for her father, we shall take time to introduce Shirley Willing and Mabel Ashton more fully to the reader.
The two girls had been friends ever since they could remember. Born and raised within a few doors of each other in the little town of Paris, Bourbon county, Kentucky, they had been inseparable companions from the time they were able to walk. This friendship was strengthened by the fact that their fathers had been bosom friends before them.
While the girls were still young, Shirley’s mother died, and a short time later Mr. Willing purchased a large farm on the Bethlehem Pike, three miles from town. It was less than a year later that Mabel’s mother passed into the great Beyond, and Mr. Ashton bought a farm adjoining that of his old friend. And here they had lived ever since.
When Shirley reached the age of fourteen, she conceived the idea of going away to school. Mabel announced that she was going with her. The objections of their fathers they soon overcame, and at last found themselves installed as pupils of the Bluegrass Seminary in Lexington. Here, because of their kind-heartedness and their many good deeds, they were soon among the most popular girls of the school.
Being athletically inclined, they were prominent in all branches of girls’ sports. Their chief pleasure was horseback riding, in which art there were few more proficient. In fact, Shirley once had saved her father’s fortune by carrying the Willing colors to victory in the great Kentucky Derby, as related in “The Bluegrass Seminary Girls on Vacation.”
Naturally modest, they nevertheless had been made, soon after their arrival at the seminary, members of the Glee Club, for it was found that both possessed voices of rare excellence. During the second Christmas vacation, with other members of the Glee Club, they had toured the larger eastern cities, and through entertainments had lifted a large debt that threatened the end of the Seminary.
Both girls also possessed great courage, as they had proved on more than one occasion, and they had had many exciting adventures, one of the most important of which was the settling of a mountain feud in which they had faced great danger unflinchingly, as related in “The Bluegrass Seminary Girls on Motorcycles.”
The summer vacation now had just begun. Shirley and Mabel had returned from Lexington two days before this story opens. At the Willing place they found Mr. Ashton, who had been very ill for some years, and had been making his home with his friend while his daughter was away at school.
But now Mr. Ashton was greatly improved, as Mabel found to her great joy. He was gaining daily and recovering lost weight and strength.
Mabel, searching for her father in response to Mr. Willing’s request, found him in the sitting room. She went up to him and took him by the hand.
“Come on Dad,” she said.
Mr. Ashton—“colonel” he was always called by his friends—allowed himself to be pulled toward the door.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Mr. Willing, Shirley and I want to have a talk with you,” was the reply.
“H-mm-m,” muttered the colonel, “must be something you two want. Have you succeeded in twisting Willing around your fingers?”
“The idea, Dad!” exclaimed Mabel. “You know neither Shirley nor I would think of trying to do a thing like that.”
Colonel Ashton grinned.
“Wouldn’t you?” he asked dryly. “I’m not so sure of that.”
Father and daughter made their way to the front porch, where Shirley and her father were deep in conversation. Colonel Ashton dropped into a chair, and Mabel sat down at his feet.
“Ashton,” said Mr. Willing, “these girls say they want to go some place. What do you think about it?”
Mr. Ashton was silent for some moments. He did not seem to be surprised.
“Where do they want to go?” he asked at length.
“We don’t know, Dad,” said Mabel. “We just want to take a trip.”
“And,” Shirley broke in, “my Dad says you and he might come with us.”
Mr. Ashton looked at his old friend in surprise.
“You say that, Willing?” he demanded.
“Yes, Colonel, I did. Why not, eh? You and I are getting along in years and have earned a vacation. I’m agreeable, if you are.”
“I don’t know but you are right,” was the slow reply. “I guess I am well enough to travel. I’ll go.”
Mabel jumped quickly to her feet, and hugged him. Shirley performed a similar operation on her father.
“Then,” said Mr. Willing, disengaging himself at last, “the only question to be settled is, where shall we go?”
“This is a pretty sizeable country, Willing,” said the colonel, “I guess there are plenty of places to go.”
“I had thought of Atlantic City,” said Mabel.
“And what had you thought of?” demanded Mr. Willing of Shirley.
“Well,” was the reply, “there were two things I wanted to do, and I don’t know which I shall choose.”
“Let’s hear them,” said Mr. Willing.
“You know, Dad, ever since Mabel and I went away with the Glee Club, we have both been anxious to take a trip on one of the big ocean steamers. That is one thing I would like to do.”
“And where would you like to go?”
“Any place. Across the ocean.”
“Well, we won’t do that,” said Colonel Ashton. “This European war makes it too risky. We might be sunk by one of those German submarines.”
“Right, Colonel,” agreed Mr. Willing. He turned again to Shirley, “and the other thing you would like to do?” he questioned.
“I should like to go to the Panama Exposition in San Francisco.”
Mabel jumped to her feet and clapped her hands.
“That’s where I should like to go, too,” she cried. “Why didn’t I think of it before?”
Mr. Willing considered.
“Well,” he said at length, “I don’t know why we can’t do both of those things, Shirley.”
“But the ocean trip, Dad. Where would we go?”
“To San Francisco,” was the reply.
“But, how—”
“You must remember that the Panama Canal is open to traffic, daughter,” explained Mr. Willing. “We can take a steamer from New York direct to San Francisco. Besides, I should like to have a look at the canal, with its great locks and other interesting things. The construction of the canal is considered one of the greatest of all feats of engineering.”
Colonel Ashton nodded his head emphatically.
“I should like to take that trip myself,” he declared.
“Then we shall consider that matter settled,” said Mr. Willing.
“And when can we start, dad?” asked Shirley eagerly.
“Well, we will not be able to leave here for a week or ten days. I have some business affairs that must be put in order before I can get away. Besides, you two girls will want clothes and things, and you can’t get those in a minute.”
“We’ll go to town this afternoon and get some things,” declared Mabel.
“All right,” laughed Mr. Willing, “but just the same it will take you at least a week to get yourselves ready. Then I shall have to make arrangements for our passage, find out when we leave New York and attend to other details. It will take time.”
“But we shall go as soon as possible, Dad?” asked Shirley.
“Yes,” was the reply. “You may make sure of that. We shall go as soon as possible. Hello—who’s that?”
The others gazed in the direction of his pointing finger. Through the pike gate, at that moment, came a solitary horseman.
“I wonder who he is?” exclaimed Shirley.
CHAPTER II.—AN ADDITION TO THE PARTY.
The horseman came closer.
Suddenly Shirley gave an exclamation of delight. She had recognized the visitor even at this distance, which was too great for the others to perceive his identity. Mabel looked at her chum in astonishment.
“Dick!” cried Shirley.
Now Mabel understood, and even Mr. Willing allowed a slight smile to steal across his face.
Shirley ran down the steps from the porch and hurried toward the distant yard gate. The girl and the horseman arrived at about the same time, and those on the porch saw the rider lift his cap and dismount.
Then he led the horse through the gate, closed it behind him and with the bridle in his hand continued his way to the house afoot, Shirley walking by his side.
“Dick!” cried Shirley again, as the rider dismounted at the gate upon sight of her. “What are you doing here? I am glad to see you.”
“I was in Paris on a little business,” replied the young man, “and I thought I wouldn’t go away without paying my respects to you and your father.”
At the house Mr. Willing greeted the young man warmly, for, from previous meetings, he had taken a liking to Dick.
Dick Stanley was a native of Cincinnati, O. He was without parents, and after having met Shirley under exciting circumstances, he had given up a rough set of companions and at length had obtained a place as office boy on one of the big Louisville newspapers. But Dick had not remained an office boy long, and he was now one of the most competent and best liked reporters on the paper.
He had been sent to Paris for a certain piece of news—“on a story,” in his words, the words of the newspaper world—and he had just completed his work successfully. Therefore he had hired a horse and come to the Willing farm for a few words with his friends before going back to Louisville.
“I’m glad to see you, young man,” said Mr. Willing in greeting. “It has been some time since we have had the pleasure of your company.”
“Thank you, sir,” was the reply. “I am always glad to be here.”
He shook hands with Mr. Ashton and Mabel.
Now Shirley proceeded to tell him of the trip they were going to take, and Dick was greatly interested.
“I should like to see the canal,” he said. “I have been reading quite a bit about it, and it is very interesting.”
“You are right, young man,” agreed Mr. Willing.
“It is one of the wonders of the world.” He paused, struck by a sudden idea. Then he said slowly, looking squarely at Dick:
“How would you like to go with us?”
“I’d like it fine,” declared Dick, with a smile. “I wish it could be done.”
“Well, it can be done,” said Mr. Willing quietly.
Dick, as well as Shirley and Mabel, looked at Mr. Willing in surprise.
“Dad!” exclaimed Shirley. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I say,” was the reply. “I am going to take Dick with us.”
Dick shook his head slowly.
“I appreciate your kindness, Mr. Willing,” he said quietly, “but I cannot accept such generosity.”
“Can’t, eh?” blustered Mr. Willing, “and why not, I’d like to know. I am not in the habit of having my invitations refused, sir!”
Again Dick smiled.
“It is very kind of you to ask me,” he said, “but I do not feel that I should accept. Of course, I have the money for the trip, but I do not feel I can afford to spend it. Besides, I could not leave the paper for so long a time.”
“Couldn’t leave the paper!” echoed Mr. Willing.
“I’ll speak a few words to my friend Col. Harperson, the owner, and he will see that you are given an indefinite vacation.”
“No, sir, thank you, I don’t think it can be done.”
“I’ll tell you,” said Mr. Willing, trying a new line, for he had made up his mind to have Dick accompany them, “you will be able to do some writing on the trip. The sights you will see should mean money to you. You should be able to write many interesting articles when you get back.”
Dick apparently was impressed with this line of reasoning. And now Shirley added her voice to the colonel’s.
“Please, come, Dick?” she said.
“Well,” said the young man after hesitating a long while, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If I can make arrangements to get off indefinitely, I’ll go.”
Shirley clapped her hands.
“I’m sure you can,” she cried.
And Mr. Willing muttered to himself:
“I’ll fix it with Harperson!”
The discussion of the trip now became general, and Dick was acquainted with the time they expected to depart.
“You will remain here over night, of course,” said Mr. Willing.
“Thank you, sir, I shall be glad to.”
“Then we’ll put off our shopping till to-morrow, Mabel,” said Shirley.
All day the three young people talked eagerly of the coming trip, and Shirley tried to get Dick to promise that he would go, whether he was able to get off or not. But this Dick would not do.
“If they agree to let me off, all right,” was his decision.
They sat up and talked till late that night, but Mr. Willing finally put an end to this conversation.
“Shirley,” he said severely, “are you going to keep that young man talking all night? How do you expect him to catch the early train in the morning?”
“Well, I would have gone any time he told me,” pouted Shirley.
“I don’t suppose he would have told you if you had kept him talking all night,” replied Mr. Willing dryly.
Dick arose and bade the others good night. A few moments later Shirley and Mabel retired to their room, where they lay for a long time before sleep overcame them, so excited were they at the prospect of the great trip.
“I’m glad Dick is going,” said Mabel, “but I don’t suppose I am half as glad as you are.”
“Why not?” demanded Shirley.
“Oh, just because,” replied Mabel, laughing.
“I don’t see anything to laugh at,” declared Shirley.
“You don’t? No, I guess you don’t. Do you know, I’d give a whole lot if some nice boy like Dick would come all this way to see me.”
“He came to see you as well as me,” said Shirley.
“Oh no he didn’t. If I had been the only girl here, Dick would not have been on hand to-day. Besides, if it wasn’t for you I’m sure he wouldn’t even think of taking the trip to San Francisco.”
“But he wants to see something of the Panama Canal.”
“My goodness! you didn’t use to be so dense,” exclaimed Mabel.
“Dense?” repeated Shirley. “What do you mean, Mabel?”
“That’s right, keep it up,” exclaimed Mabel. “I won’t say anything more. Are you going into town to-morrow?”
“Yes, I thought we would go in as soon as Dick had gone.”
“That suits me. We’ll have to get a lot of things.”
“I should say so. Why, I haven’t a single decent thing to wear.”
“We’ll put in a good supply, so we won’t have to buy anything while we are away. My! but won’t it be a nice trip?”
“Won’t it though. I can hardly wait for the time to come.”
“Nor I. But let’s get some sleep or we won’t want to get up in the morning.”
Both closed their eyes and tried to sleep. But they had too much on their minds to go to sleep immediately, and it was long minutes before drowsiness overcame them and they lost themselves, only to dream that they were sailing across the ocean.
The following morning they accompanied Dick to Wright’s station, where he took a train for Lexington. There he would have to change for Louisville.
“Let us know as soon as possible?” called Shirley, as he climbed aboard.
“I will,” replied Dick. “I’ll write immediately I have learned one thing or the other.”
Shirley and Mabel returned to the house, where Mr. Willing was waiting for them with the automobile.
“Ashton and I have decided to do a little shopping on our own hook,” he explained. “We want to spruce up a bit. Daughter, do you suppose there will be any nice-looking, middle-aged ladies aboard the boat? If so, why Ashton and I—”
“Dad!” interrupted Shirley.
“Well, all right. Of course if you object,” said Mr. Willing.
All the rest of the day the girls put in shopping. Dresses and frocks for all occasions they bought, besides a couple of outing costumes.
“I don’t know how long it takes to get to San Francisco from New York,” said Shirley, “so we had best be prepared.”
But when the day was over they found they had not completed their shopping, and would have to return again on the morrow.
Mr. Willing, during the day, transacted his business and found out the date of sailing from New York. Taking it for granted that Dick would accompany them, he purchased a ticket and made accommodations for him as well as the others.
“How long shall we be gone, Dad?” asked Shirley, as the automobile sped homeward.
“Well, let’s see. This is the fourth of June. We shall leave New York on the fifteenth. I should say we would be back by the middle of August.”
“And will we come back the same way?”
“No; we’ll come back by rail. One way by boat will be enough. You’ll have seen plenty of water by the time you reach San Francisco.”
“I hope Dick decides to go with us,” said Shirley.
“And so do I,” declared Mabel.
“Oh, he’ll go, all right,” remarked Mr. Willing.
And the latter was right. Three days later Shirley stood before her father with an open letter in her hand.
“It’s from Dick,” she explained. “He says he is going with us.”
Mr. Willing chuckled.
“I see Harperson is still a friend of mine,” he muttered to himself.
CHAPTER III.—OFF FOR NEW YORK.
It was the morning of the twelfth of June that the party of five went early to Paris to catch the eight o’clock train for Cincinnati. Dick had arrived the night before, and in spite of the fact that they would have to be up very early in the morning, all sat up talking, for the young people were too excited to go to sleep.
All through the long hours of the night the girls tossed about, scarcely closing their eyes. They were up with the break of day, which was soon after four o’clock.
At last the time for departure came, and they jumped gaily into the large automobile which was to take them to town.
“What time shall we leave Cincinnati, sir?” Dick asked of Mr. Willing, as the train pulled out from the station.
“Twelve o’clock,” was the reply. “We’ll get there a little after eleven, which will give us time to get across town to the Pennsylvania station. I have made reservations on the New York train.”
Nevertheless it lacked only twenty minutes of the noon hour when the train pulled into Cincinnati.
“Hurry girls,” ordered Mr. Willing. “We have no time to lose. We can just about make it.”
They dashed through the station and out the Third street entrance, where Mr. Willing immediately engaged two taxicabs.
“Pennsylvania Station!” he ordered, and they were off at a good gait.
Through the narrow streets congested with traffic they were forced to go more slowly, and Mr. Willing looked at his watch impatiently from time to time.
“Seven minutes!” he said, and they were still some distance from their destination, and then the first cab stopped to let a car pass in front of it.
“Hurry!” commanded Mr. Willing of his driver. “We haven’t got all day to get there. Let the street cars do the waiting after this.”
The chauffeur nodded and the cab leaped forward, scattering pedestrians right and left, darting in and out among other vehicles, avoiding a collision as though by a miracle. The second cab came close behind.
At last the station was reached and all dismounted hurriedly. With Mr. Willing in the lead they ran through the station to the train shed. Here the conductor had just called “All aboard!”
Mr. Willing heard him, and urged the others on faster. They passed through the gate, Mr. Willing assisted the girls and Colonel Ashton up the steps, then climbed up himself. And as he did so, Shirley, who had turned to look at him, cried:
“Where’s Dick?”
Mr. Willing looked around, then stood nonplussed. Dick was not here. The train began to move.
There came a shout from behind and a young man came dashing after the train. Shirley cried out in alarm. It was Dick.
The train had gathered headway now and was slipping along beneath the shed more rapidly. Dick sprinted, gained, clutched the handrail of the car and swung himself aboard just as the train gathered even greater speed.
He climbed to the platform, wiped the moisture from his brow, fanned himself vigorously and then smiled.
“Close call, that,” he exclaimed.
“Young man,” said Mr. Willing dryly, “hereafter let there be no loitering behind. You gave me a scare and I don’t care for any more of the same.”
“Daddy!” exclaimed Shirley. “I am sure Dick didn’t do it intentionally.”
“No, sir,” agreed Dick. “As I followed after you I bumped into a lady and knocked her suitcase from her hand. It came open and the contents scattered about. For a moment I forgot all about the train and stopped to help her pick them up. Then I happened to remember we were late, and ran after you.”
“Your gallantry is bound to get you in trouble if you are not careful,” commented Mr. Willing.
They went inside.
Mr. Willing had engaged the two drawing rooms, one at either end of the car. Dick and the two older men were to occupy one and the two girls the other.
It was almost eight o’clock when the train pulled into Pittsburgh. They had just finished dinner, so Dick stepped off to look about for a few moments.
As he stood beside the steps of the Pullman, another man, probably several years his senior, approached and engaged him in conversation. He was an agreeable sort of a chap. He spoke English with the faintest of accents, however, and this Dick was not slow to notice.
It appeared that the man had a berth on the same car, and they climbed aboard together. In the smoking compartment was Mr. Willing, to whom Dick introduced the newcomer. Mr. Ashton came in a few moments later, and all sat talking.
The stranger, who introduced himself as Henry Bristow, made himself very agreeable and Mr. Willing took an instant liking to him.
During the course of the conversation, Dick chanced to mention that they would sail from New York for San Francisco on the fifteenth.
“On what ship?” demanded Bristow eagerly.
“Yucatan,” was the reply.
“Is that so?” exclaimed the other. “I shall sail on the same vessel.”
“For San Francisco?” asked Dick in surprise.
“That all depends,” was the answer. “I shall only take passage as far as Colon. Whether I shall go further depends upon my—upon circumstances.”
“We shall be glad to have you as a fellow passenger,” declared Mr. Willing. “As you are going to be such, you must meet my daughter, and the daughter of the colonel here.”
“I shall be pleased,” was the reply.
He accompanied the others to the drawing room, where introductions followed.
Young Bristow conversed fluently upon many topics and the others were delighted with him. From his remarks it was gathered that he had traveled considerably.
He spoke familiarly of New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and apparently had a personal knowledge of London, Paris, Berlin and other European cities. He was equally as well acquainted with the larger southern cities.
The two girls were eager listeners to the tales of his travels, and even Mr. Willing and Colonel Ashton gave an attentive ear to these stories.
“And where do you live?” asked Mr. Willing suddenly. “What did you say your business is?”
The young man’s face suddenly turned red.
“My home is in New York,” he replied quietly, “and as for my business, I fear that must remain a secret for the present.”
“Daddy, you shouldn’t be so inquisitive,” said Shirley with a smile.
“I’m sure I’m sorry,” apologized her father. “I didn’t mean—”
“Say no more about it,” replied the young man with a pleasant smile. “For certain reasons, I am not now able to reveal the nature of my business.”
Dick had been thinking rapidly. Suspicions had entered his head, and he could not shake them off. And still he knew that they would sound foolish to another.
“I’ll keep them to myself,” he said, “but I’ll keep an eye open.”
The train was just pulling into North Philadelphia when Shirley and Mabel opened their eyes the next morning. Mabel glanced at her watch.
“Seven o’clock,” she exclaimed. “We’ll have to hurry, Shirley. You know these fast trains don’t take long to reach New York from here. Besides, we want to get breakfast on the train.”
They dressed as rapidly as possible, and emerged from their drawing room just in time to see young Bristow stride down the aisle.
He gave them a cheery “good morning” and turned as Mr. Willing came up.
“I hope you will join us at breakfast, sir,” said Mr. Willing.
The young man accepted, and as Dick and Colonel Ashton appeared at this moment, all made their way to the diner together.
“Where shall you stay in New York, sir?” asked Bristow of Mr. Willing.
“At the McAlpin,” was the reply. “We shall spend the two days looking about the city, going aboard the Yucatan a couple of hours before time for her departure.”
Bristow turned to Dick.
“I shall look you up either this afternoon or to-morrow, and we’ll take a stroll,” he said.
“I’ll be glad to walk with you,” Dick replied.
Breakfast over, they returned to the Pullman, where they began to get their things together, for they were close to New York.
Half an hour later the train plunged into the tunnel under the Hudson river. Mr. Willing, who had been to New York before, explained how the tunnel had been constructed and gave other interesting information.
“You wouldn’t think we were in a tunnel,” exclaimed Shirley. “There is no smoke.”
“Electric engine,” replied Mr. Willing.
“And we go right under the river?”
“Yes.”
“My goodness!” exclaimed Mabel. “Just to think that there is a river running right over the top of us. Suppose it would come through.”
Mr. Willing smiled.
“It won’t,” he said quietly.
And now the porter came for their baggage, and carried it to the vestibule. The conductor poked his head in the door and called out:
“New York!”
“Here we are,” exclaimed Shirley eagerly. “The city I have always wanted to see. The greatest city in the world!”
CHAPTER IV.—DICK HAS AN ADVENTURE.
The two days spent in New York City were days of wonder to Shirley, Mabel and Dick. They were on the go every minute of the time, sightseeing. From one end of the city to the other they travelled with wide-open eyes.
The great skyscrapers impressed them, perhaps, more than any one other thing, though they saw much to amaze them; and next to the great buildings they were impressed by the crowds.
Crowds they had seen in some of the other large cities, but never anything like this.
They took a trip to Coney Island on the second day, and the girls were for going back again that night. Mr. Willing agreed, and they were about to fare forth from the hotel, when young Bristow was announced.
“I’ve come to take you for that promised stroll,” he told Dick.
Dick looked at the others inquiringly.
“You go with him,” nodded Colonel Ashton, “the rest of us can get along without you for one evening.”
“If I’m breaking up a party—” began Bristow.
“Never mind,” said the colonel with a wave of his hand. “You two young fellows run along. We don’t need you.”
“All right, sir,” agreed Dick.
Personally he was glad to have a chance to look about the town a little with one of his own age. The others took their departure, and soon Bristow and Dick also left the hotel.
“I would have looked you up sooner but I have been terribly busy,” explained Bristow. “I have had important matters to attend to, and this is the first time I have been at liberty. Where would you like to go?”
“Any place you say,” said Dick with a smile. “You know more about this place than I do.”
“I guess you’re right,” was the smiling response, “we’ll wander up Broadway aways and watch the theater crowds.”
They did so, and continued to stroll about for an hour.
Gradually the crowd thinned out, although there were many pedestrians on the street. As they stood for a moment in front of the Herald building on Herald square, Dick, chancing to turn suddenly, became conscious of a pair of eyes looking steadily at his companion. He called the other’s attention to it, and as the latter glanced about the man turned and moved off.
Dick thought no more of the matter until several blocks further along he perceived the same figure slinking furtively after them.
“That man is following us,” he said to Bristow.
The face of the latter grew hard.
“We’ll see,” he said.
At that moment they were passing Forty-second Street, and Bristow swung sharply around the corner. Dick followed him. They walked several blocks, until they stood beneath the tracks of the Sixth Avenue elevated. Here Bristow again turned sharply, and drew up in a doorway. He stopped as Dick came up beside him.
A moment later the figure of the man Dick believed was following them came around the corner. The man’s hat was pulled over his eyes, and he did not glance up as he passed the doorway. Bristow and Dick turned and doubled back around the corner.
“He was after us, all right,” said Bristow with a laugh, “but I guess we have given him the slip.”
But in this he was mistaken.