Philip looked dismayed at the prospect of being seen in the company of the rather shabby old man, who claimed to be his great-uncle.
“No, no,” said Uncle Obed. “I can find the way round by myself. A man that’s used to the Western prairies doesn’t get lost easily.”
Philip breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time he began to think that Uncle Obed had some sensible ideas.
Uncle Obed took his hat and cane, and walked out slowly, making his way along the principal street.
“I wish I could see that boy Harry Gilbert,” he thought to himself—for a new plan had occurred to him. “Why, bless me, there he is now,” he said, as our hero turned the next corner.
“Good-evening, sir,” said Harry, cheerfully.
“Good-evening, Harry. You’re just the one I was wanting to see. I’ve got something to say to you.”
What Uncle Obed had to say was of importance, but must be deferred to the next chapter.