"We ought to be there in about twenty minutes，" observed Arnold Deering， glancing at his watch。

One of his companions in the day-coach tossed the magazine he had been idly glancing through， to the top of the pile of suitcases beside him， yawned widely， and nodded without enthusiasm。

"If nothing happens，" he agreed。

"What's going to happen， you chump？"

"Nothing， I suppose。 Only， something might。 There might be an earthquake， or the train might jump the track， or——"

"Or you might talk sense， Frank！ As for jumping the track， this old train couldn't jump a crack in the floor！ I guess you're wishing something would happen so you wouldn't have to go back。"

"Oh， I don't know，" Frank Lamson answered doubtfully。 "I guess I don't mind—much。 School's all right after a day or two。 It's getting into the swing， just at first， that's hard。"

"In the interest of education，" proclaimed Arnold pompously， "I move that summer vacations be abolished。"

"Put it the other way around，" said Frank， "and I'll second the motion。 Joking aside， though， summer vacations are fine， but they certainly spoil a chap for hard work。" He shook his head dolefully。 He was a heavily-built youth of seventeen， but the heaviness was that of bone and sinew rather than of fat。 With regular features， dark hair and eyes and a healthy skin， he was undeniably good-looking， although the mouth somehow suggested a sort of lazy arrogance and led an observer to the conclusi