“What sort of a room?” asked Sam.
“Come up and see.” Chester led the way to a door and politely held it open for Sam to pass through. The door revealed a flight of stairs and Sam climbed them, Chester at his heels. The upper floor of the stable was given over at one end to piles of hay in bales and to bins for feed and at the other was partitioned off into rooms for the stablemen and coachmen. There were six of these rooms, opening from an entry that ran through the centre of the building.
“Which way?” asked Sam.
“First door to your left,” replied Chester. “Go ahead in; it’s unlocked, I guess.”
Sam opened the door and entered. The room was a small bedroom, and, seated on the bed and on the two chairs which the place contained, were four boys: Morton Prince, Joe Williams, Milton Wales and Gus Turnbull. For an instant Sam gazed in surprise. Then realization came to him and he turned and made a dive for the door. But it was closed and Chester stood grinning with his back to it.
“Welcome, Sammy,” said Prince.
“Enjoy your drive?” asked Gus Turnbull.
Sam shrugged his shoulders.
“What are you fellows up to?” he asked indifferently. “I suppose it’s some silly joke. I’m going home.”
He tried to push Chester aside.