“Hello, Frank!  What is it?” came from the rear, where the party addressed was following in the wake of his chums.

“How about Hank?  Do you know if he ever played chauffeur half-way decent?  I’d hate to risk the pater’s neck with a greenhorn.”

“Come to think of it, he used to run old Cragin’s car for quite some time.  Had an accident, and was discharged; but some people said Hank wasn’t to blame; that it came about because the old man was too stingy to buy the right kind of tires, and always picked up job lots.”

“Glad to hear it.  He won’t have that fault to find with the governor.  Well, here we separate, fellows.  To-morrow morning, at the boathouse, about eight, to lay our plans and arrange for the trip to the city.”

With a cheery good-night the chums separated, and each headed for his home.

In the morning they once more came together, and for some hours there was an earnest talk, during which many ideas were put forward, and order gradually took the place of chaos.

A knock at the door took Frank thither, for he suspected who the visitor might prove to be, as he had left word at home to send Hank Brady there, if he called.  Hank was now decently dressed, and his face did not look so very bad, though it bore a number of scratches.

“All right, Hank.  I’m going with you to the bank.  My father knows all about it, for I thought it best to start square, so that you need not fear about his finding out anything about your past,” he said, shaking hands with the other.

“And he don’t give me the shake on that account?” asked Hank eagerly.

“Of course he doesn’t.  He even said that what we did was right, and that he could look back to a day in his boyhood when a kind word started him along the straight and narrow path.  My dad’s the right sort, Hank.  Serve him decently, and you’ll never want a better friend.  But at the same time he hates deceit, and will not put up with a sneak.  You’ve got the chance of your life to make good.”

“And I’m going to make good, all right, or bust tryin’.  I’ll never get over the white way you fellers acted with me, never, if I live a hundred years!” said Hank in a broken voice.

Frank took him over to the bank, where Mr. Langdon was favorably impressed with his looks, and engaged him, after he had learned what he knew about the running of a car.  Hank had worked in a garage for a year, and this knowledge was invaluable to him in his business as a chauffeur.

That afternoon Frank and Bluff started for the city, with a list of things they believed should be purchased before they went forth upon their journey.  Bluff had in mind a wonderful hunting-knife, with an ivory handle, a picture of which he had seen in the catalogue of a sporting goods house, and he was secretly determined to possess such a magnificent tool.

“The time might come when a fellow would have only his trusty blade between himself and death, and then you just bet he wants a good one.  Think of a big grizzly trying to hug you!  Where would your little knife be, then?  You’d soon wish you had that Cuban machete that hangs on the wall of your father’s den, Frank,” he said, when the other expostulated with him about purchasing such a murderous-looking weapon.