“Hold on,” urged Merriwell, addressing the stranger. “We want to talk with you.”
Then the boys sprang off their wheels.
To their surprise, the stranger suddenly held out his hand, almost shouting:
“It is Frank Merriwell, or my eyes can’t see straight!”
“Bart Hodge, as I live!” cried Frank, grasping the outstretched hand.
[CHAPTER XIX.—BART HODGE MAKES A CONFESSION.]
It was Bart Hodge!
How they did shake hands! Strangely enough, neither of them laughed, but there was a look of joy on their faces that told of satisfaction and delight too great for laughter.
“Merriwell, old man,” said Hodge, his voice unsteady with emotion, “I can scarcely believe it is true! It seems too good to be true!”
“Hodge!” exclaimed Frank, “there is fate in this. I was speaking of you not more than ten minutes ago.”