"He may be a little late—Jack often is," answered Dick.
"Well, I shan't mind it," said Tom. "I want to see my old friend Mr. Ricks," and he winked at Sam.
The station master at Oak Run was a crabbed old individual who rarely had a pleasant word for anybody. But he was faithful and probably that was why the railroad continued to employ him.
"Why, how do you do, Mr. Ricks, I am real glad to see you!" exclaimed Tom, as he rushed up after the train had gone and caught the station master by the hand. "It seems like old times to get back here."
"Huh! Got back, eh?" muttered Mr. Ricks sourly. "Thought you boys went to college."
"So we did. We are back for the summer holidays. You are looking well, Mr. Ricks."
"I ain't very well, I've got dyspepsy."
"Is that so. Why don't you smoke more?"
"Smoke?"
"Sure. Smoking is the best thing in the world for dyspepsia. Cured the king of England and the emperor of Germany. Here, have a cigar, and see how much better you feel after smoking it."
Now, as it happened, Ricks loved cigars, although he usually smoked a pipe, that being
