"Why, the platform's as crowded as our house was last night."
Mrs. Kinzer and her daughters were already the center of the crowd of young people, and Ford Foster and Frank Harley, with Joe and Fuz Hart were asking what had become of Dab, for the train was in sight.
A moment later, as the puffing locomotive drew up by the water-tank, the conductor stepped out on the platform, exclaiming:
"Look a here, folks. This aint right. If there was going to be a picnic you'd ought to have sent word, and I'd have tacked on an extra car. You'll have to pack in, now, best you can."
He seemed much relieved when he found how small a part of the crowd were to be his passengers.
"Dab," said Ford, "this is your send-off, not ours. You'll have to make a speech."
Dab did want to say something, but he had just kissed his sisters and his mother, and half a dozen of his school-girl friends had followed the example of Jenny Walters, and then Mrs. Foster had kissed him, and Ham Morris had shaken hands with him, and Dab could not have said a loud word to have saved his life.
"Speech!" whispered Ford, mischievously, as Dab stepped upon the platform; but Dick Lee, who had just escaped from the tremendous hug his mother had given him, came to his friend's aid in the nick of time. Dick felt that "he must shout, or he should go off," as he afterward told the boys, and so at the top of his shrill voice he shouted:
"Hurrah for Cap'n Kinzer! Dar aint no better feller lef' along shore!"
And, amid a chorus of cheers and laughter, and a grand waving of white handkerchiefs, the engine gave a deep, hysterical cough, and hurried the train away.