“Let’s hope it isn’t only a spurt,” said Rad. “We need some Giant scalps in our wigwam just now. About three out of four will do.”
“Guess again,” laughed Joe. “But tell me how are the old boys? How is Campbell? Has he got any new neckties this year?”
“Has he?” grinned Rad. “He showed me one yesterday that had a regular delirium-tremens effect. I’m afraid to go to sleep for fear I’ll dream of it.”
“Come up to the hotel with us and have dinner,” invited Joe, as he signaled for a taxi.
“You bet I will,” replied Rad, heartily. “I’ve got a hundred things I want to talk to you about and now that I’ve got my hooks on you, I’m not going to let go in a hurry.”
They had a royal meal and a delightful evening together, and about ten o’clock Rad rose to go.
“Barclay and I’ll go with you a way,” said Joe. “McRae doesn’t care, as long as we’re back by eleven.”
They strolled through the brilliantly lighted streets until they had reached Rad’s home and then Joe and Jim Barclay started to return.
Finding that they were a little later than they thought, they were making a short cut through a side street, when their attention was drawn to a man who emerged with unsteady steps from a saloon on the corner. There was something familiar about him, although they could not get a clear view of his face.
Suddenly Joe gave vent to a startled ejaculation: