It had been too early to get supper before leaving home—although their aunt had offered it—so about seven o'clock the lads went into the dining car attached to the train. They found a table for four vacant and took possession, and presently ordered what they wanted.
"Hello! look there!" exclaimed Tom, in a low voice, after looking around the dining car, and he pointed to a man at one of the tables for two.
"It's that lawyer who settled for the smashed biplane," returned Sam. "Must be going to New York, too."
"Most likely his profession takes him to the city quite often," remarked Dick.
"Wonder if he'll speak to us if he sees us," ventured Sam.
"I don't know and I don't care," came from his big brother. "I didn't like him at all—he was too crafty-like."
Their food served, the boys fell to eating with that gusto that characterizes youths who are still growing. They had about half finished when Dick felt himself touched on the arm. At his side stood Belright Fogg.
"Taking a little trip, eh?" remarked the railroad lawyer, with a bland smile.
"Yes," answered Dick, shortly.
"To New York, I suppose?"