Left End Edwards | Page 5

a bit," replied Mr. Hall. "And the catalogue says that
students will be received any time after Monday noon. I'm not going to

have you two reckless youngsters travelling around the country
together at night."
Tom, recognising the inevitable, said no more.
There was a somewhat awkward ten minutes at the station, for both Mr.
Edwards and Mr. Hall, the latter accompanied by his wife, went down
to see the boys off. The men nodded coldly to each other and then the
odd situation of two boys who were to travel together side by side
taking leave of their parents at opposite ends of the same car developed.
Tannersville is not a large town and those who were on the platform
that morning when the New York express pulled in understood the
dilemma and smiled over it. Steve and Tom were both rather relieved
when the good-byes were over and the train was pulling out of the
station.
"Blamed foolishness," muttered Steve as he met Tom where their bags
were piled on one of the seats.
"Yes, don't they make you tired?" agreed the other. "Say, how much
did you get?"
Steve thrust his fingers into a waistcoat pocket and drew out a carefully
folded and very crisp ten-dollar bill, and Tom whistled.
"I only got seven," he said; "five from father and two from mother. I
guess that will do, though. The only things we have to pay for are
dinner and getting across New York. Got your ticket safe?"
Ensued then a breathless, panicky minute while Steve searched pocket
after pocket for the envelope which contained his transportation to
Brimfield, New York. The perspiration began to stand out on his
forehead, his eyes grew large and round and his gaze set, Tom fidgetted
mightily and persons in nearby seats, sensing the tragedy, grinned in
heartless amusement. Then, at last, the precious envelope came to light
from the depths of the very first pocket in which he had searched and,
with sighs of vast relief, the two boys subsided into the seat. By that
time Tannersville was left behind and the great adventure had begun!

There are lots of worse things in life than starting off to school for the
first time when you have someone with you to share your pleasant
anticipations and direful forebodings. It is an exciting experience, I can
tell you! The feeling of being cast on your own resources is at once
blissfully uplifting and breathtakingly fearsome. Suppose they lost their
way in New York? Suppose they were robbed of their tickets or their
pocket money? You were always hearing about folks being robbed on
trains, while, as for New York, why, every fellow knew that it was
simply a den of iniquity! Or suppose the train was wrecked? It was
Tom who supplied most of these direful contingencies and Steve who
carelessly--or so it seemed--disposed of them.
"If we lost our way we'd ask a policeman," he said. "And if anyone
pinched our money or our tickets we'd just telegraph home to the folks
and wait until we heard from them."
"Where'd we wait?" asked Tom with great interest.
"Hotel."
"They wouldn't let us in unless we had money, would they?" Tom
objected. "Maybe we could find the United States consul."
"That's only when you're abroad," corrected Steve scathingly. "There
aren't any United States consuls in the United States, you silly chump!"
"I should think there ought to be," Tom replied uneasily. "What time do
we get to New York?"
"Two thirty-five, if we're on time. We ought to be. This is a peach of a
train; one of the best on the road. Bet you she's making a mile a minute
right now."
"Bet you she isn't!"
"Bet you she is! I'll ask the conductor."
That gentleman was approaching, and as they yielded their tickets to be

punched Steve put the question. The conductor leaned down and took a
glance at the flying landscape. "About forty-five miles an hour, I guess.
That fast enough for you, boys?"
"Sure," replied Tom. "But he said we were going a mile a minute."
"No, we don't make better than fifty anywhere. You in a hurry, are
you?"
"Only for dinner," laughed Steve. "Where do we get dinner, sir?"
"There's a dining-car on now," was the reply. "Or you can get out at
Phillipsburg at twelve-twenty-three and get something at the lunch
counter. We stop there five minutes."
"Me for the dining-car," declared Steve when the conductor had moved
on. "What time is it now, I wonder."
It was only a very few minutes after eight, the discovery of which fact
occasioned both surprise and dismay. "Seems as though it ought to be
pretty nearly noon, doesn't it?" asked Tom.
"Yes. What time did you have breakfast? I had