“Does the express that comes along about three-fifteen stop here?” asked Dan.
“No,” replied the agent, glancing up briefly, “not unless there’s some one to get on or off.”
“That’s all right, then. I’d like a ticket for New York, please.” The agent glanced at the clock and laid down his paper. It almost exhausted the combined resources of the two boys to pay for the ticket, but they managed it and had a little to spare.
“Any baggage?” asked the agent. Dan told him no, and they followed him out and watched him set the signal. The next moment the train whistled across the river at Greenburg and when the agent came back along the platform Dan and Arthur were bidding each other an affecting and almost tearful good-by.
“You drop me a line, Thompson,” begged Dan, “and tell me how everything’s going. Take good care of Jake and the faculty, won’t you? And see that Kilts wears his goloshes when it’s damp.”
“Look after yourself, Vinton,” begged Arthur. “You’d better wire me from the city, so I’ll know you’re all right and won’t worry.”
“I will. Good-by!”
“Good-by, old man, good-by. Do be careful of yourself and watch out for automobiles at the crossings.”
“I will. And you be good to the faculty while I’m gone. See that Noah gets his warm milk every morning. My love to Old Toby. Good-by!”