Then Frank stooped and pinned it over the heart of the happiest and proudest boy south of Mason and Dixon’s line.
CHAPTER XII.
THE RUNAWAY.
“Now, sir, what can I do for you?”
Standing at a distance, watching with anxious impatience and taking care to keep out of sight, Roland Ditson muttered a little exclamation of satisfaction as he saw Frank Merriwell turn to Jack Cunningham, speaking these words.
The train was starting to pull out from the station.
“I came here to see yo’, suh,” declared Cunningham, turning his chew of tobacco. “I’ve brought ye somethin’.”
“What is it?”
“This.”
He handed over the forged letter. A moment later Frank was reading:
“Dear Frank: I am in serious trouble, and I wish you to come to me alone without a moment’s delay. I know I shall not appeal to you in vain. Tell no one where you are going, for I do not wish it known that I would trouble you at such a time, but I must see you—I must! Don’t lose a minute! Mr. Muldoon will take you in the carriage direct to the house where I am stopping, and you will have plenty of time before the game. Do come, dear Frank. Yours, as ever,