Hans Mueller was a man who in his boyhood days had been a boon companion of the Rover boys’ fathers. When he had gone to Putnam Hall with the Rovers he had spoken very broken English, and his improvement in speech had been slow and painful. But Hans had prospered in a business way, and was now the sole proprietor of a chain of delicatessen stores in Chicago. He was unmarried, and, having no family of his own, had insisted upon it that all of his young friends call him “uncle.”
“Hello der, eferypody!” called out Hans Mueller cordially, as he came down from the veranda to greet them, his fat face beaming genially.
“How are you, Uncle Hans?” cried Jack, leaping to the ground and shaking hands. “This is certainly a surprise.”
“Yes, Songpird tol’ me you wouldn’t know I vas coming,” was the answer. “How you been alreatty?”
“Fine as silk,” answered Andy gayly. And now all the boys clustered around to shake hands.
“You’re just the man we want here to help us enjoy our vacation,” put in Fred.
“Dot’s nice, Fred. I tink I vas going to haf a fine time alreatty. And I need him,” went on Hans Mueller. “Since I come from de war back from Europe, where I fights for Uncle Sam, I work like a steam horse in mine delicatessen stores. But so soon like Songpird says come out here and meet dem Rovers and you udder friends, I say to my clerks, ‘you got to run dem stores by yourselfes alreatty yet awhile. I go oud to Pig Horn Ranch and git some fresh air mine lungs in.’”
“You’ll get the fresh air all right enough,” announced Spouter. “And we’re mighty glad you’re here,” he added, and then led the way into the house.