After a general wash-up and glance at the newspapers in the reading-room, the boys started out to see the town.
Naturally, the business section, with its big stores and lively appearance, received their first attention.
"Fellows," observed Nat, as if with a sudden thought, "I guess I'll scribble a telegram to my uncle. Wait for me here. There's a telegraph office 'cross the street."
"Why not write?" asked Bob.
"Hate letters! Besides, now I come to think of it, old Uncle Parse may be kind of worried. You see," added Nat, "I left pretty suddenly."
"All right, we'll wait," said the poet laureate.
"Hurry it up," urged Dick Travers; "supper time will be here before we know it."
The former leader of the Nimrods acted with commendable promptness, and the party soon continued on their way. They all enjoyed themselves hugely, and, after supper, visited the principal theatre.
Before turning in that night, Bob Somers, sitting on the edge of the bed, made this observation:
"Take my word for it, Nat Wingate is up to some mischief. I can't help liking him, but he hasn't followed us just for the pleasure of our company."