But despite his words, Allan went to sleep feeling not a little worried, and awoke the next morning with a feeling of impending misfortune. Pete was not in the dining-hall, but it was after eleven o’clock before Allen had an opportunity to make inquiries. When he did, he could find no news of his friend. No one had seen him that morning. Allan cut a recitation and hurried down to Pete’s rooms. The bed had not been occupied. Allan returned to the yard fighting against fear.
At three he heard the news from Hal, who, white of face, was waiting him on the porch.
“It’s—it’s all up with p-poor old Pete,” he announced, with his mouth working tremulously. “They found the boat he had a mile down the river. It—it was capsized!”
Allan felt his own face go pale, but after a moment he muttered:
“Pete could swim like a fish; you know that.”
Hal shook his head.
“Then why hasn’t he showed up?” he asked, hopelessly. “No, he’s a goner. You remember what he said about premonitions and things going to happen to him? I guess he was right, Allan. Poor old Pete! They—they found his hat, too, down by the wharves.”