“Me either,” added Dick.
“Well, you never can tell,” spoke Tom, as he thought of the sad look on the senior’s face—a look that had returned several times during the talk, in spite of the frequent smiles. “He seems like a nice sort of chap.”
“Did he say what his trouble was?” asked Will.
“No, and I didn’t ask him. Said some man had it in for him. Look out where you’re steering, Dick.”
“Why, what’s the matter?” asked Dick, who had requested Tom to let him take the wheel for a time.
“There’s a big rock somewhere out here,” went on the owner of the motorboat. “I must mark it with a buoy, or I’ll hit it myself some night. Keep more to the left.”
Dick spun the wheel over, and the boys rode on, talking of many things.
“Where do you think you’ll go to school this fall?” asked Will of Tom.
“Oh, back to the Academy, I suppose.”
“Why, you graduated from there in June!”