Dick nodded. “Yes. We have taken it for the remainder of the week.” “Shooting, I suppose?” “Yes.” There was silence for a moment. Jellison appeared to be thinking intently. “I came down for a few days’ rest,” he volunteered. “The late flurry in the Street has pretty well worn me out, and I knew how peaceful and quiet this place was. I had no idea I should find any one here.” He hesitated and looked questioningly at Dick. “I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to tolerate me for to-night,” he went on slowly. “There’s no place nearer than Cobmore’s where I could stay.” Merriwell was not at all pleased with the turn things had taken. He and his friends had come out for a few days’ rest and recreation. They had looked forward for a long time to this little holiday when they would get away by themselves and be absolutely free from cares or worries of any sort, and they had been at considerable pains to arrange things so they could get off. And now three people had turned up unexpectedly—two of them utter strangers. He did not mind McCormick, for he was a good fellow and one of them; but it was annoying beyond measure to have first Joblots and then this Jellison thrust themselves in. The whole outing would be spoiled. But he failed to see how he could very well get out of it. It would not be decent to refuse Jellison a bed and make him walk three miles through the forest to Lysander Cobmore, who would, no doubt, be asleep by the time the man got there. And, after all, it was only for one night. They could put up with him for that length of time. “Why, I guess there’s room enough,” he said slowly. “We haven’t been upstairs yet, but I should imagine there would be no lack of beds in a house of this size.” “Oh, I don’t care about a bed,” Jellison said, with a sort of suppressed eagerness. “I can turn in on that couch there. Anything like that will be good enough.” “I don’t think you’ll have to do that,” Merriwell returned quickly. “Suppose we take a look upstairs and see what there is. It’s about time to hit the pillow, anyhow.” His suggestion was received with much approbation. The other fellows had grown rather restless since the appearance of Andrew Jellison. Joblots was such an insignificant fellow—almost a fool, in fact—that they had not paid much attention to him and had continued their talk and joking quite as if he were not there; but the presence of Jellison seemed, somehow, to throw a damper over everything, and, since the evening was spoiled, they might just as well go to bed. One and all, they arose with alacrity, and, hunting up candles, lighted them and started in a procession upstairs. Their discoveries on the second floor were most satisfactory. There were bedrooms enough to give each one of the party a separate one if he wished it, and Fitzgerald observed, on punching the mattresses, that they were all of a good quality of hair.