“Well, we aren’t going to wait for him,” said Clancy firmly. “I want that chicken dinner, believe me! We’ll give him half an hour, then we’ll load into the Hornet and go up to your house. Maybe he’s there now.”
Mrs. McQuade had been requested to prepare an early dinner, as the three friends intended returning to Fardale in the Hornet that afternoon. So promptly at eleven-thirty Clancy got out his car and ordered the reluctant Billy to climb in. Since there was a strong possibility that Merriwell was at the McQuade house, Billy finally obeyed.
“Nothing could happen to him,” scoffed Clancy, as they climbed the hill. “He’s off on a walk, that’s all, and probably has gone to sleep on the shady side of a tree.”
Mrs. McQuade had seen nothing of Merry, and since her dinner was all ready and waiting, she put aside a generous portion to keep warm for Chip and insisted on Clancy and Billy pitching in at once.
They did so, but as the meal progressed Clancy began to feel the same anxiety that was worrying his friend. Finally he asked Mrs. McQuade to hold her pies in the oven for a little.
“Billy and I will run back to the hotel. He might be there, or on the way.”
The two jumped into the Hornet, and Clancy hit only the high spots until they drew up before the hotel. A man came down the steps, and Clancy recognized him as the garage proprietor.
“Say, Mr. Clancy, where’s Mr. Merriwell?”
“Isn’t he here?”
“No,” returned the man, in a worried voice. “I got that auto rented this afternoon, and——”