“He does seem pretty inane, doesn’t he?” Merriwell remarked presently. “Funny thing, though, Mac. He was saying that he knew a lot of Yale men, and, when Fitz asked him if they were still at New Haven, he asked about you!”
“About me?” Archie exclaimed incredulously. “Why I never saw the jackass before in my life!”
“I don’t know that he said he knew you,” Dick returned, “but he gave that impression. Anyway, he knew your name.”
McCormick’s face took on a puzzled look.
“That’s queer,” he mused. “Wonder where the deuce he got hold of it.”
Dick did not answer. His quick ear had caught the sound of a soft footfall in the adjoining room, and the next moment Joblots appeared in the doorway.
“I found thome,” he said, holding up a bunch of newspapers. “Big pile of them in the fwont woom. What thall I do with them?”
“Just crumple them up and put them in the fireplace,” Merriwell answered. “Never mind. Here are some of the fellows now. They’ll fix it up all right.”
As he spoke the door to the woodshed opened and the three men appeared carrying four or five big logs and a lot of kindling. They proceeded at once to lay them in the dining-room fireplace, and by the time the dishes were washed a roaring fire was blazing up the cavernous chimney.
“That’s all to the good,” Dick remarked, as he and Archie joined the circle about the hearth. “It certainly is cold outside.”