"And—er—that isn't all, Dave. I wouldn't tell anybody but you—and maybe Phil. He has spent a lot of money while in politics—it costs a good deal to live in Washington. I heard him tell mother about it. If he goes out, it will go hard with him. Now, if we had that mine, and it was as valuable as they think it is——"
"I see, Roger. We'll have to do our level best to find the mine."
"If mother had the mine she could let dad use the money in any way he pleased. But if we haven't got the mine to fall back on, and dad gets out of politics—well, it is going to make hard sledding for us."
"Roger, if it gets too bad, don't you hesitate to come to us!" cried Dave, quickly. "I am sure my father, and my Uncle Dunston, would be only too glad to help you out."
"Thank you, Dave; but I don't think it will get to be as bad as that," answered the senator's son. And then the train came along and Dave had to bid his chum good-by.
The car was only half filled with people, so Dave had a double seat to himself. He placed his suit-case in the rack overhead and then sank down by the window, to gaze at the swiftly moving panorama and give himself up to thought.
"Hello, Dave!"
The youth looked up, to see, standing beside him, Nat Poole, the son of the money-lender of Crumville—a tall, awkward youth with a face that was inclined to scowl more than to smile. In the past Nat had played Dave many a mean trick, and had usually gotten the worst of it. Nat had been in the class with our hero, but had failed to pass for graduation, much to his chagrin.
"Hello, Nat!" cried Dave. He put as much warmth as possible in the salutation, for he felt sorry for the boy who had failed. "Bound for home?"
"Yes." The money-lender's son hesitated for a moment. "Want me to sit with you?"