“Yes, I bet he is starving right now,” jibed Phil Durant. “All he has had to eat since lunchtime is an apple, three bananas, and I don’t know how many bags of peanuts. If the train boy hadn’t made a sale all the afternoon except to Dick he would have made a day’s pay anyway.”
“That reminds me that it is almost supper time now,” said Dick. He had heard his chums rag him so many times about his appetite, that their remarks rolled off him as does water off a duck’s back. “I move we postpone hearing what Dad Boone has to tell us until after we have eaten. Then he can tell us what he wants, and after that perhaps we can all go to a movie show.”
There was no car in sight, so they continued their walk, and soon were at the doors of the Bangor House, a large, well-appointed hotel. The boys cut a strange figure as they walked through the lobby, for they were clad in broad brimmed Stetson army hats, khaki coats cut like hunters’ jackets, with big roomy pockets, and khaki trousers stuffed into the tops of shoepacks, which are nothing more than heavy moccasins with an extra leather sole.
Each boy carried a knapsack on his back, and attached to this was a lariat. In addition, a stout forest hatchet was thrust through the belt that girdled them, and each boy carried a rifle.
Many curious looks were cast in their direction as they walked to the desk where Garry asked if Mr. Boone was registered there.
In a few moments the clerk had telephoned up to Garry’s father and immediately was told to send the boys up. Following in the wake of the bell boy they ascended to the room, where Mr. Boone was waiting.
He greeted the boys heartily and commented on their healthy appearance, for the sun and open air had made them as tanned as any woodsman.
Greetings over, Mr. Boone remarked:
“Before I tell you boys why I have sent for you, I suggest that we get our dinner and then come back to the room.”
“Welcome words!” uttered Dick enthusiastically.