while they are in my place."

"Oh, all right, have your own way," snarled the stout man. "I'll take my
money elsewhere, I will!" He glared at the students. "But I'll get
square some day for this--don't forget that!" And shaking his head very
savagely, he stormed out of the restaurant, banging the door after him.

CHAPTER III

OFF THE TRACK

"Well, if he isn't the worst yet," was the comment of the senator's son.

"I hope he isn't waiting for that train," said Shadow. "I don't want to
see any more of him."

"Pooh! who's afraid?" asked Phil. "I guess we can make him keep his
distance."

"I thought I knew him when he came in, but I wasn't sure," said the
restaurant keeper. "The man who runs the hotel, Mr. Brown, had a lot of
trouble with him because he wouldn't pay his bill--said it was too high.
Then he came here once and said the meat wasn't fresh and the bread was
stale and sour. I came close to pitching him out. Don't let him walk
over you--if he does take your train."

"No danger," answered Dave. He had not yet forgotten the rude manner in
which Isaac Pludding had shoved him.

It was soon time for the Oakdale train to arrive, and the students
walked back to the depot. The snow was over a foot deep and still coming
down steadily. The depot was crowded with folks, and among them they
discovered Isaac Pludding, with his valise and a big bundle done up in
brown paper.

"He certainly must be waiting for the train," said Dave; and he was
right. When the cars came to a stop the stout man was the first person
aboard. The students entered another car and secured seats in a bunch as
before.

"By the way, where is Nat Poole?" asked Roger, suddenly. "I didn't see
him get off the other train."

"He got off and walked towards the hotel," answered Phil. "I suppose he
feels rather lonesome."

"That can't be helped," said Sam. "He makes himself so disagreeable that
nobody wants him around."

Just as the train was about to start a boy leaped on the platform of the
car our friends occupied, opened the door, and came in. It was Nat
Poole, and he was all out of breath. He looked for a seat, but could
find none.

"They ought to run more cars on this train," he muttered, to Roger.
"It's a beastly shame to make a fellow stand up."

"Better write to the president of the railroad company about it, Nat,"
answered the senator's son, dryly.

"Maybe there is a seat in the next car," suggested Phil.

Nat Poole shuff