“So it is, Harry, but I don’t mind coasting down. Come on, there is the train now, just leaving the station below.”
Two bright looking boys of about fifteen, dressed in a half-military fashion, stood on a terrace in front of a rambling, two-story building overlooking the surrounding country, the Hudson River being seen in the distance at the foot of a mountain of considerable height, everything being most distinct in the clear Autumn air, the steamboats on the river, the roof of the little railroad station and the puff of smoke from the engine as it pulled out being seen very clearly.
The rambling, two-story building on the top of the hill was the Academy and the boys were two of the pupils who were here a little in advance of the rest to begin the new term, were, in fact, some of the Hilltop Boys as they were called by the people of the town on the river where the train on the branch road was now going at a fair speed, the incline increasing with the distance from the station.
Arthur Warren and Harry Dickson hurried off to the stables where the wheels of the boys were kept, selected their own, mounted quickly and set out along the Academy drive to the road leading to the station, this being a mile or more distant, although in a straight line it was much less.
From the river to the station nearest the Academy it was five miles, but on account of the grade and the numerous stops the two boys had plenty of time to reach the railroad before the train which they had seen leaving the river station could arrive.
“Did the Doctor say who was coming, Art?” asked Harry, as they reached the road, set their brakes and started down the hill. “Dick Percival generally comes at this time.”
“Yes, I believe the black fellow said he expected Master Dick. He always likes to fetch Dick up and will go for him at any time, day or night.”
“To be sure, for Dick always gives him a tip.”
The hill down which the two boys were now gliding at a good rate was quite steep, there being a decided drop a few rods in advance and a number of sharp turns, the rounding of which required considerable dexterity and the coolest of heads.
They were two-thirds of the way down and had reached the steepest part of the hill when, in rounding a particularly sharp turn where they had to keep all their wits about them, they saw just ahead of them, in the middle of the road, a boy carrying a suitcase.