"The wandering minstrel is bound to give you your money's worth, Merry," laughed Jack Diamond.
Although they lingered at the table fully an hour after that, the musician continued to play outside during all that time, with brief intervals of rest.
Finally, when dessert was over and they had chatted and gossiped a while, Frank proposed that they should move to the veranda.
As the jolly party came out upon the veranda they discovered the musician. He was a portly young German, and he stood on the lawn, with a battered old carpetbag between his feet, while he blew at a wheezy flute with such vigor and vim that his eyes threatened to pop out of his head.
"He certainly is working overtime," observed Diamond.
"I'd like to know the name of his tailor," chuckled Browning. "His clothes certainly fit him handsomely—in spots."
"Anyhow they touch the high places," came from Badger.
Frank Merriwell paused on the veranda steps and scrutinized the musician intently.
"Fellows," he said, "that chap looks familiar to me. I've seen him before. I know him."
Bart Hodge's hand dropped on Merry's shoulder.