“Well, perhaps I was mistaken, but I don’t think so,” and the young major shook his head slowly.
Final examinations began on Monday, and the boys were kept busy for several days. Then came a respite of twenty-four hours, for which the Rovers were thankful.
The mail came in at noon, and less than half an hour later Phil Franklin burst in on the Rover boys like a cyclone.
“Here’s news! Just the thing you wanted to know!” he cried out, waving a newspaper clipping. “My father sent it to me in a letter he wrote. It tells all about Davenport, Tate, Jackson and several other prisoners. They are all out on parole.”
“You don’t say!” ejaculated Jack. “Let me see the clipping, Phil.”
His cousins gathered close while Jack read the newspaper clipping aloud. It had been cut from an Oklahoma sheet and told how a number of prisoners in one of the Texas prisons had been placed on parole by the authorities.
“Well, I guess I was right after all and that was Davenport,” said the young major. “Now the question is: What was he doing up here?”
“I’ll answer that by saying you can be sure he was up to no good,” declared Fred.
“I guess you’re right there,” answered Phil. “I wouldn’t trust that rascal a bit further than I could see him. If ever there was a snake in the grass, it was Carson Davenport. Just see how he and his cronies struck down Jack’s father in the room at the hotel and robbed him.”
“Oh, I’m not forgetting it,” answered Jack. “I think it’s an outrage that they let that rascal off so easily.”