“Oh, yes he will. He told me particularly to invite a lot of good fellows home with me, and he will give you a cordial welcome. I haven’t got a shooting-box, but I own a nice tent, and that will do just as well. I will show you some duck-shooting that will make you open your eyes.”
“All right,” said Enoch. “I’ll go, according to promise, and you must be sure and visit me in my Maryland home next year. Both the Gordons and Curtis will visit Egan at that time, and unless I am much mistaken, we can make things lively for them.”
“Nothing would suit me better,” returned Lester. “I hate all that crowd. Don and Bert went back on me as soon as they got me here, and I’ll never rest easy until I get a chance to square yards with them.”
(Lester learned this from Enoch. He remembered all the nautical expressions he heard, and used them as often as he could, and sometimes without the least regard for the fitness of things. He hoped in this way to make his companions believe that he was a sailor, and competent to command the yacht during their proposed cruise.)
The conversation just recorded will make it plain to the reader that Lester and some of his particular friends, following in the lead of Don and Bert Gordon and their friends, had made arrangements to spend a portion of their vacation in visiting one another. They carried out their plans, too, and perhaps we shall see what came of it.
When Mack and the rest found Hopkins and Egan, they went up to the latter’s room, where they thought they would be allowed to talk in peace; but some of the students saw them go in there, and in less time than it takes to write it, the little dormitory was packed until standing-room was at a premium. The boys were full of questions. What one did not think of another did, and it was a long time before Don could say a word about Hopkins’s experience, which Egan related substantially as follows:
To begin with, Hopkins did not leave the car because he wanted to, but because he couldn’t help himself. When the rioters voted to disarm the young soldiers, half a dozen pairs of ready hands were laid upon his musket, but Hopkins wouldn’t give it up. Threats, and the sight of the revolvers and knives that were brandished before his face, had no effect upon him; but he could not contend against such overwhelming odds, with the least hope of success. He was jerked out into the aisle in spite of all he could do to prevent it, and dragged toward the door. When the students turned their bayonets and the butts of their pieces against their assailants, the latter made a frantic rush for the door, and Hopkins was wedged in so tightly among them, that he could not get out. His gun was pulled from his grasp, and Hopkins, finding his hands at liberty, seized the arm of the nearest seat in the hope of holding himself there until the mob had passed out of the car; but the pressure from the forward end was too great for his strength. He lost his hold, was carried out of the door by the rush of the rioters, who, intent on saving themselves, took no notice of him, and crowded him off the platform.
“But before I went, I was an eye-witness to a little episode in which our friend Egan bore a part, and which he seems inclined to omit,” interrupted Hopkins.