Luke Phelps, though not so easily affected, was wise enough to take a hint.
"Going to stay long in Kingswood, cap'n?" he inquired, at length.
"That depends." The skipper shrugged his broad shoulders. "My time is my own. At any rate I'd like to stay until the Rambler Club's ball nine is carrying everything before it."
"In that case I'm afraid you'll never get away," murmured Luke, softly.
After passing through several patches of woods, then across broad undulating fields, the four came to a wide highway. Captain Bunderley's swinging gait before long carried them to the outskirts of Kingswood. Finally the high school was passed, and a short time later Pembroke Hall, the home of Bob Somers' father, loomed into view.
"Boys, I thank you sincerely," said the burly skipper, as he at length placed his hand on the iron gate at the entrance to the grounds. "I hope we shall become better acquainted."
CHAPTER XI
GOOD BASEBALL WEATHER
Bob Somers was delighted to see Captain Bunderley and his nephew. The two visitors were entertained at the Somers home on several occasions, and soon became familiar figures in Kingswood.