Nor did they imagine that strangers in the hotel dining room were paying any heed to them until they heard a man's voice say approvingly:
"Regulars."
"Yes; they're the real thing," agreed another male voice. "You'll know a regular wherever you see one. The men of the regular Army can't be beat."
"You sent for us, sir?" asked Hal, pausing beside the lieutenant's table and saluting.
"Yes," nodded Prescott. "Follow me from the dining room. I have something to say to you."
Prescott and the stranger passed out ahead. Hal and Noll kept in their wake, about fifteen feet to the rear. Lieutenant Prescott and the stranger entered an elevator, the soldier boys following. The young officer led the way to his room.
"Now, then," resumed Prescott, wheeling about on the soldier boys, "I have had a very peculiar request made to me to-night—by this gentleman."
The stranger nodded.
"Mason City," continued the lieutenant, "is usually a very orderly place. There are only two policemen here—a night and a day officer. Besides, there is one peace officer—Deputy Sheriff Coates. Now, it happens that Coates is ill in bed, and his physician absolutely forbids him to leave his bed inside of a week."
"That's right," nodded the stranger.