“We’ll get there in time, all right,” said Alec. “I wouldn’t miss meeting Hugh—not for a lot! Come on, fellows.”
About an hour later the touring car drew up at the platform of the station at Claynor, and its three occupants alighted to seek shelter from the clouds of dust that a stiff breeze was blowing from the roads. With the exception of the station agent and a few negro porters asleep on a long bench, not a soul was in sight near the little terminal. Across a small plaza, where a few dusty palm trees swayed dejectedly in the wind, could be seen a row of quaint shops, an old Spanish church, and a moving-picture theater; beyond this was a vista of the main street of the town, with people coming and going, to and fro, in a leisurely manner.
Presently, long after schedule time, the train rolled up and came to a standstill. Almost the first passenger to alight was a tall, slender, yet well-developed young fellow, who rushed forward at sight of his three comrades and seized their hands.
“Hugh, old scout, we thought you’d never get here!” exclaimed Alec.
“Your beastly old train’s late,” added Billy.
“I know it is—worse luck! Don’t blame me! It wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t get here sooner or I would, you may be sure.”
“Well, we’re mighty glad to see you,” said Chester.
“Come on, Hugh! We’ve got a lot of news to tell you on the way home!” exclaimed Alec.
“I’m all ears,” replied Hugh, laughing.