"There's Indian Landing ahead of us," called out the coxswain. "I don't think we had better go much further; we've got eleven miles to run before we get back, and I'm afraid of getting low in coal." "All right, put aback and return." And soon the steamer was headed down the river. "Where's that gasoline boat; can you see her anywhere?" asked Robert, a few moments later. "No, sir, we would have met her by this time if she had followed straight up the river. And that's odd, too. Indian Landing is the only place boats ever come to up here--she must be hidden in one of those lonely creeks." "That's it, I imagine. There's something queer about that boat; it certainly had three ugly-looking men in it, and two of them didn't want to be seen. That bearded chap was a fierce-looking specimen." "Say, Bob," called out Glassfell from aft, "mess gear is spread and we're waiting for you to pipe us to dinner, but we won't wait long--you'd better get here in a hurry." Robert lost no time and immediately joined the others. An attractive lunch had been spread and was now attacked with energy; in the launch was a party of good friends, all in gay spirits. The day was delightful and when they finally reached the "Santee" wharf and left the launch it was unanimously agreed that a most enjoyable afternoon had been spent. Early this afternoon Stonewell left his room, and unaccompanied went out in the city of Annapolis. He walked rapidly and before long was in Conduit Street, and without stopping to wait for admittance, entered a large yellow house. Two hours later he left and hastened to a telegraph office. But Stonewell was not the only visitor that day who entered this large yellow house on Conduit Street. For at about eight o'clock that evening a man in civilian garb, wearing a moustache and heavy pointed beard, with a brown slouch hat drawn low over his forehead, and in closely buttoned sack coat, went to the same house, and without hesitation, opened the door by a pass key and passed inside. CHAPTER XVIII AN OLD COLORED MAN IS IN TROUBLE A hop was given that Saturday night at the Armory. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about this hop; it was just like hundreds of its predecessors. As usual, near graduation time, there were many out of town visitors, and it is likely that brass buttons proved attractive to them. Many glad faces were to be seen whirling around, and judging by the happy laughs that were heard everyone was having a jolly time. Robert Drake had escorted an old friend that night, Miss Nellie Strong. He had seen her card filled up, had presented her partners, and had taken three numbers himself. "Something is always happening to you, Robert," remarked Nellie as they walked around the room after the second dance. "Now tell me what misadventure you have had this year." "Not one, Nellie; my bad luck is all over; not one single unpleasant thing has happened to me since I became a first classman."