Guffey transferred his right to Clancy and Ballard, smiled again, murmured his acknowledgments, and then returned to his waiting chair. It was all very nicely done, and it was plain that Guffey, the coach, knew how to be a gentleman.
“Well, I’ll be darned!” muttered Clancy. “Say, Chip, is that really the dope fiend we saw coming out from under the box?”
“No doubt of it,” Frank answered.
“He acts and looks like a different fellow—still, that pasty face, that black hair, and those washed-out blue eyes are the same. Why is he here? Is it a case of nerve on his part?”
“You’ll have to ask me something easier than that,” Merry answered, dismissing Guffey from his mind and giving his whole attention to his meal.
[CHAPTER XLIII.]
REVIVING HOPES.
Guffey left the dining room before Frank and his chums had finished their breakfast. When they finally came out they found Handy, captain of the Ophir eleven, waiting for them. Handy showed traces of excitement.
“What was Guffey, the Gold Hill coach, doing over here, Chip?” he demanded.
“Nothing more than eating his breakfast, Handy, so far as I know. Are you acquainted with him?”