The page stepped out first and, going down the hall a few steps, opened a door and announced clearly:
Dick stopped aghast on the threshold. The room was a private dining room and not small, yet it seemed to his startled senses to be full of people.
“There’s some mistake,” he gasped. “I——”
The mine owner suddenly appeared and seized his hand.
“Come in, my boy—come in,” he said briskly. “What are you afraid of? Just a few people I wanted you to meet.”
There was a smile on his face, and he winked at Buckhart over Merriwell’s shoulder.
As in a daze, Dick followed his host into the room. He had a vague recollection of being presented to an amazing number of men, who smiled at him and shook his hand warmly. They were of all ages, from gray-haired, stout, substantial bankers and merchants, down to clean-cut, good-looking fellows of his own age, among whom he recognized smiling Glen Gardiner and most of the other members of the team.
One, a tall, handsome man of middle age, with a close-cropped beard and brilliant, kindly eyes, he heard spoken of as the mayor.
At length he found himself at one end of a very long table. Orren Fairchilds was on his left; he had quite lost sight of Brad and the others.