he and some others sat to start off. "Look who's here!"
"Jim Murphy!" cried Dave and Roger, in a breath.
"So it is!" came from Shadow. "Hi, Jim!" he called out. "Don't you know us any more?"
The young man they addressed, a tall fellow of Irish parentage, who stood on the sidewalk, turned swiftly. Then his face broke into a grin, and he rushed forward.
"Sure, an' what do you think of this now!" he exclaimed. "Dave Porter, an' Phil Lawrence, an' Roger Morr, and Shadow Hamilton, an', sure enough, Ben Basswood! Say, what is this, a tour o' Oak Hall boys!" and the former monitor of that institution of learning smiled more broadly than ever.
"We are on an excursion," explained Dave, and gave some details. "What are you doing in Chicago, Jim?" he went on.
"Sure I got a job here, after I left Oak Hall."
"What are you doing?" questioned Roger.
"I'm one of the gatemen in the train shed. But I expect to get a better job than that in a week or two—it's promised to me," added the former monitor. "An', by the way, lots of Oak Hall boys passing through Chicago now," he continued.
"What do you mean?" asked Phil, quickly. "Whom did you see?"
