Factor MacClaren looked up from his work as the two youths entered.
“Why, hello,” he exclaimed in surprise. Then: “Whatever has happened to you. You both look as if you’d been stuck in a swamp somewhere for the last day or two. I wish you could see yourselves.”
The boys looked down at their mud-spattered garments. Sandy’s eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders drooped. Dick’s face was scratched with brambles. He had lost his hat and his hair was rumpled and streaked with dirt. Each flopped into a chair and breathed a sigh of relief.
“We made record time from Frischette’s stopping-place,” Sandy announced finally.
Sandy’s uncle laughed. “I can well believe that from your appearance. Have you been travelling all night?”
“Yes,” answered Dick, “all night. By the way, is Corporal Rand here?”
Factor MacClaren nodded.
“Arrived last night. Got in sooner than he expected. He’s waiting for you. Went out to the stables just a few minutes ago.”
“Uncle Walter,” Sandy requested wearily, “I wonder if you’ll be kind enough to notify him that we are here.” He sprawled lower in his chair. “I’m so tired that I don’t think I could walk out there. Also, while you’re at it, I wish you’d tell Naida, the cook, to prepare a good breakfast for two hungry men.”
“Men!” grinned the factor.