“I might ask the same of you,” returned Sam, for it was indeed the Bayville boy whom they had met during their summer in camp, and later in New York, where Sam was a cub reporter on the Leader, his Uncle Jim, who was one of the editors, having secured him the place. “And here’s Chot Duncan, and Fleet Kenby, and who’s this? Pod Meelick, as I live! Well, youngster, I am certainly surprised to see you up here.”
“And this is our friend, Bert Creighton,” said Chot, as the boys were shaking hands all around.
“I am glad to know you, Mr. Green,” said Bert.
“Same here,” was the reply, “only make it plain Sam. Mr. Green doesn’t sound natural.”
“All right, Sam,” said Bert.
“But you haven’t told us what you’re doing in Montreal, Sam,” said Tom.
“No; and you fellows haven’t told me what you’re doing here. Turn about is fair play.”
“We’re on a canoe trip,” Tom explained. “We started at Winton Hall on the Hudson, came up through the lakes and the Richelieu River into the St. Lawrence, thence to Montreal.”
“What! are you fellows at Winton now?”
“Yes; we’ve just finished our first year.”