“I shall have to speak to these boys about Carson,” he thought, as he tried to get a grip on his scattered faculties.
“Ahum!” he coughed, and touched the driver on the arm. “I shall—er—be obliged if you will put me off in the road near the—er—the Pavilion. From there I shall—er—walk back. This is—er—very pleasant, but on a night like this—so glorious—I prefer to walk; so if you, er——”
“Oh, we’ll put you off at the Pavilion,” was the significant statement with which he was reassured.
But when the road by the ice was reached, the fellows in the sleigh with Gunn were given a surprise that was as great as Gunn’s.
Chip Merriwell, skating on the ice there with Clan and Kess and some others, had stopped at the edge of the ice, curious to see the sleigh go by; not dreaming who its occupants were.
Chip was recognized by the fellows in the sleigh, and by the driver, who gave a little ejaculation of amazement and drew hard on the reins, bringing the horses to a stop.
“Merriwell!” he said, gasping the name.
Gunn, electrified, craned his neck; and Chip, thinking himself addressed, stepped into the road, walking on his skates toward the sleigh.
“It is—er—it is Mr. Merriwell!” Gunn exploded. “This—er—this is you, Mr. Merriwell?”
Chip saluted; and Clan and the others, coming up behind him, repeated the action.