“Provided the conductor will give you written permission.”
“Not much!” returned the would-be story-teller. “If I can’t tell that story now, I’m going to be mum forever.” He suddenly looked at Dave. “What is taking you to New York?” he inquired.
“I’m on my way to Texas,” answered Dave, and then told his former classmates of how he and Roger had passed the preliminary examination as civil engineers and of how they were now going to take up field work in the Lone Star State.
“Say, that’s great!” exclaimed Buster, in admiration. “I wish I was going to do something like that.”
“So do I,” added Luke, while Shadow nodded in assent.
The other lads had many questions to ask, and in return told Dave much about themselves. In the midst of the conversation the express train for the metropolis rolled in and the four youths lost no time in clambering aboard. They found their seats with ease, and quickly settled themselves.
“That’s a fierce loss that the Basswoods sustained,” remarked Luke. “I read all about it in the newspapers. That fellow, Ward Porton, must be a peach.”
“I should say he was a lemon so far as Dave was concerned,” said Buster, with a slow wink of his eye.
“Speaking of peaches puts me in mind of another story,” cried Shadow. “A man had a tree in his garden and––”