“See who’s coming,” he said.
Bob turned quickly, murmured, “Well, well,” and nudged Norman Redfern.
In a moment, all were staring at two figures rapidly approaching. One was Colonel Ellison, and close by his side trotted his faithful chauffeur.
“Think how this affair must look to your guardian,” observed Redfern, with an air of great regret.
“SEE WHO’S COMING”
“Ha, ha!” laughed Joe. “The storm’s coming. Hello! Those Ripley chaps are gaining again. Hi, hi! Push it right over ’em! Flatten out the whole crowd, you fellows!”
“Hold on, Joe Preston,” remonstrated Fred Winter. “The Colonel will have a fine opinion of you.”
Colonel Ellison had never appeared more dignified and stern. His brow was wrinkled; and he glared over the rim of his glasses at his ward and nephew in a truly terrible manner.
“Ah, ha, young man!” he began; “so I see you at last, eh? What have you to say for yourself?”