t?"

"I was afraid you wouldn't come on account of the weather," answered
Dave Porter. "How are you feeling?"

"As fine as ever," answered Phil Lawrence. "Oh, it will take more than
one football game to kill me," he went on, with a light laugh.

"I trust you never get knocked out like that again, Phil," said Dave
Porter, seriously.

"So do I," added Ben Basswood. "The game isn't worth it."

"Mother thought I ought to stay home until the weather moderated a bit,
but I told her you would all be on this train and I wanted to be with
the crowd. Had a fine Thanksgiving, I suppose."

"I did," returned Ben Basswood.

"Yes, we had a splendid time," added Dave Porter, "only I should have
been better satisfied if I had received some word from my father and
sister."

"No word yet, Dave?"

"Not a line, Phil," and Dave Porter's usually bright face took on a
serious look. "I don't know what to make of it and neither does my Uncle
Dunston."

"It certainly is queer. If they went to Europe your letters and
cablegrams ought to catch them somewhere. I trust you get word soon."

"If I don't, I know what I am going to do."

"What?"

"Go on a hunt, just as I did when I found my uncle," was Dave Porter's
reply.

While the three boys were talking the train had rolled out of the
station. The car was but half filled, so the lads had plenty of room in
which to make themselves comfortable. Phil Lawrence stowed away his suit
case in a rack overhead and settled down facing the others. He gave a
yawn of satisfaction.

"I can tell you, it will feel good to get back to Oak Hall again," he
observed. "You can't imagine how much I've missed the boys and the good
times, even if I was laid up in bed with a broken head."

"You'll get a royal reception, Phil," said Dave. "Don't forget that when
you went down you won the football game for us."

"Maybe I did, Dave, but you had your hand in winning, too, and so did
Ben."

"Well, if the fellows---- Say, here comes Nat Poole." Dave lowered his
voice. "I don't think he'll want to see me."

As Dave spoke, a tall, fastidiously dressed youth came down the car
aisle. He was not bad-looking, but there was an air of dissipation about
him that was not pleasant to contemplate. He wore a fur-trimmed overcoat
and a cap to match, and heavy fur-lined gloves.

"Hello!" he exclaimed, on catching sight of Phil Lawrence. "Going back
to the Hall, eh?"

"I am, and you are going back too, Nat, I suppose."