"I never though of that," muttered Darrin, turning a bit pale.
"Great Scott!" gasped Dick. "I can feel the cold sweat oozing out at the bare thought. Suppose we had been harebrained enough to get on the wrong train, and be carried so far past that we couldn't get back to Wilburville by nine o'clock!"
"Drop all worry. Don't think of anything alarming, or even disconcerting," chuckled Tom. "I've taken charge of the whole job, and I guarantee everything. One of the little things I guarantee is that you'll both win out to-day."
"In algebra," muttered Darrin, "I hope they won't go too deeply into quadratic equations——-"
"Cut it!" ordered Reade severely. "Likewise forget it! Say, I heard a rattling good story last night. It carries a Dutchman, a poodle, a dude and an old maid. Let me see if I can remember just how it runs."
With that Reade got started. He soon had his two friends started as well. They laughed until the brakeman at last thrust his head in and called:
"Next station, Wilburville!"
"Stop and get out, young man!" called Tom. "Do you think we don't know our way?"
Then into another story plunged Tom Reade. He spun it out, purposely, until the train slowed up at Wilburville.
"'Bus right up to the town hall!" cried a driver, sizing the trio up shrewdly.