“I’d willingly give you that board money just to get my hands on Ward Porton,” announced Dave. He turned to his chums. “This sure is the limit! First he goes to the stores and gets a lot of things in my name and then he steals my hat and overcoat right from under my nose!”
“Yes, and that isn’t the worst of it,” declared Roger. “There is no telling where he has gone; and even if you knew, in this awful storm it would be next to impossible to follow him.”
All went below, and there they continued to discuss the situation. In the midst of the talk the girls came down, accompanied by Dr. Renwick and his wife.
“Oh, Dave! you don’t mean to tell me that that horrid Ward Porton has been at more of his tricks!” cried Laura.
“Isn’t it perfectly dreadful!” put in Jessie. “And to think he was right in this hotel with us and we never knew it!”
“That’s what makes me so angry,” announced Dave. “If only I had clapped my eyes on him!” he added regretfully.
“Well, there’s no use of crying over spilt milk,” declared Roger. “He is gone, and so are Dave’s overcoat and his cap, and that is all there is to it.”
“Speaking of milk puts me in mind of breakfast,” put in Phil. “Now that the others are downstairs don’t you think we had better have something to eat?”
All were agreeable, and soon they were seated at a large table in the dining room, in company with the doctor and Mrs. Renwick. Here, while eating their breakfast, they discussed the situation from every possible standpoint, but without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion.