“These wheels are not in your way, Wade,” said Kenneth, sternly, “and you may let them alone. You have been drinking, and you know that means you stand a good chance of losing your position.” The hostler looked sullen and subdued, but said nothing. His assistants had appeared, attracted by the sound of the encounter, but they were holding aloof. Kenneth reprimanded Wade severely, and then informed Frank that supper was ready for the party. The boys had been given a chance to wash up, and soon they were seated about a long table in the cool dining-room of the old mansion, with Kenneth St. Ives acting as host. CHAPTER XXII—HANS USES THE HOSE A jolly party it was. They laughed, and joked, and told stories. They ate, and drank, and were happy. Browning fairly groaned with satisfaction, and then tried to disguise the groan by a cough. Hans gasped as he looked about at the good things with which the table was loaded, and his eyes bulged. “Shimminy Ghristmas!” he gurgled. “I feel like all dot stuff could ead me up und not half dry. I ain’d seen nottings like dot for so long dot you don’d rememper id.” “Wal, gol darned ef this air ain’t a slappin’ good layout!” observed Ephraim. “I was beginnin’ to wish I was to hum on the farm where I could git some baked ’taturs, but baked ’taturs won’t cut no ice with me arter I git threw with this fodder.” “Hearty appetites are in vogue at Springbrook Farm,” laughed Kenneth; “and I want you all to eat till you are perfectly satisfied. Athletes should eat well at times.” “Yaw,” nodded Hans, “I pelief me; but dot Vrankie Merrivell peen keepin’ der barty in draining so much dot I don’d had nottings to ead vot you like two veeks a time at. Dot kindt uf pusiness makes you got fat like a ghost.” “Speaking about ghosts,” said Kenneth, with a sly wink at Merriwell, “there is a story that our summerhouse is haunted. As you fellows are going to stop there to-night, I trust you will not be troubled by spirits.” Hans’ jaw dropped. “Vot?” he squawked. “I don’d toldt you dere peen a ghost dot house in?” “Sure,” nodded Kenneth. “Those who have seen it describe it as a tall, white figure, and those who have felt it say it has clammy, ice-cold hands.” “Woo!” cried Hans, shivering. “I don’d pelief I vant to slept dot summerhouses in!” “Oh, the ghost only appears occasionally, and it is not at all likely it will visit the summerhouse to-night.” “Vale, you don’d know apout dot. Uf dot ghost heard I vos here, he peen sure to come. Uf you gif me a bistol und dot ghost came, mape he peen aple to shot me.” “You mean that you will be able to shoot the ghost.” “Yaw, I meant dot I peen aple to peen shot der ghost py.” “That wouldn’t hurt him any. Spooks don’t mind being shot.” “I don’d toldt you dot? Oxcuse me! I vill slept py der open air. I don’d care apout sleepin’ in dot summerhouses.” “Oh, say!” exclaimed Ephraim; “gol darn it! can’t you see you’re bein’ guyed. There ain’t no ghost there at all.”