other railroad station several miles further from his home.
Again came a wait.
"Same story—can't get Spotstown, either," said the operator.
"Well, I've got to get somebody, somehow," murmured the oldest Rover boy. "I guess you can get New York City, can't you?" he asked, with a faint smile.
"Of course."
"Then I'll write another message."
Dick knew that when his father was in the habit of going to the metropolis he usually stopped at a large place on Broadway, which I shall call the Outlook Hotel. He accordingly addressed a message to the manager of that hotel, as follows:
"Is Anderson Rover at your hotel? If so, have him telegraph me; otherwise send me word at once."
"Now I guess I'll hear something," thought Dick, as he turned in this telegram and paid for having it transmitted. "Send it Rush, please," he told the operator.
Again there was a wait—this time of nearly half an hour. At last the instrument commenced
