“Where is Orton? Is that any place near here?” “Orton? Sure, Mr. Merriwell!” The clerk jerked his thumb over across the valley. “It ain’t what you might call a metropolis, nohow, but it’s got a smithy and a couple o’ stores and a schoolhouse. Thinkin’ o’ goin’ over there?” Frank started. Going over there! Why, of course! “How far is it from here?” he queried. “About fifteen mile by road, I take it. ’Bout ten, as the crow flies.” While the clerk paused to stare at him curiously, Merry considered. If his uncle was at Orton, he must be expecting his father to meet him there. But Frank Merriwell, senior, had returned home on the late train! And Dick had stated that it was very important, so there was but one thing to do. “Clan hasn’t waked up yet,” thought Chip, “so I guess I won’t disturb him. I’ll go down and see if I can get that garage machine, and if it’s taken then I can rouse up Clancy and get the _Hornet_ buzzing.” He turned to the clerk, with quick decision, shoving the telegram into his pocket. “Yes, I just received a telegram----” he stopped, remembering the admonition in that telegram. “But, by the way, I’d rather you wouldn’t say anything to any one about my going to Orton, will you?” “Sure not,” assented the clerk at once. “Tell Clancy that I’ll be back before noon,” went on Merry, turning. “I’ll get a car if I can, and be back by then, easily. Much obliged to you!” “You got a good morning for the trip,” called the clerk after him. “Good luck!” Chip waved his hand in return, and walked down the street toward the garage. He glanced about for the messenger, but doubtless the man had returned to the station, and he sighed. “I see where I don’t get that early swim this morning! Well, that’s what comes of a fellow having a family!” And with a whimsical grimace he saw the garage ahead of him. In front was an old-fashioned but comfortable-looking car, with a young fellow busily engaged in washing it off. “Must be expecting Sunday traffic,” thought Frank. “That looks a whole lot better than Clan’s bumpy old scrap heap, just the same. Six-cylinder, too, so probably she can go some.” Approaching the washer, he inquired if the car was for rent. The young fellow hailed the proprietor of the garage, inside, and the latter came out and nodded to Chip at once. “You’re young Merriwell, ain’t you? I seen that game yesterday, by thunder! Is it you who wants to get a car?” “I want to go over to Orton and back,” said Merry, “if your car’s for rent.” “For rent? To you?” A wide grin came over the man’s face. “Say, Merriwell, you couldn’t rent no car off’n me, not if you was to offer me a cold million dollars!” “Eh!” Merry looked at him in astonishment. “What do you mean?”