by Hardy to fetch the eatables from the airplane and prepare his very best dinner with all possible speed.
Then appeared Turner, a tall, sandy-haired fellow of about twenty-five years, with a gaunt, solemn-looking face; "slow but sure" written in every line of his features.
"Hello, Turner!" cried out Hardy. "Here are two of our Seaboard Airline patrol, Legs Hatton and Jimmy Todd. Our old friend Miller will blow in on the motorcycle about two hours from now. Fellows, this is Sockless Turner, a Tarheel from
'Way down on the Pasquotank
Where the bullfrogs jump from bank to bank.'"
"And proud of it," asserted Turner as he gave the boys his most cordial pumphandle shake.
"Now, Turner, while we are waiting for Cat and dinner, take the fellows up and show 'em your movie apparatus and make 'em forget their stomachs. Cat's heard all that dope already."
Up the stairs went the three, the boys taking, en route, an inquisitive glance into their new dormitory. They followed the deliberate Turner
