By that time the north bound train had stopped and people were getting on and off and a trainman was calling, “_Train for Albany_.” All of a sudden, _good-night magnolia_, along the platform came Will smiling all over his face and on one side of him was Mr. Dawson and on the other side of him was Mrs. Dawson. And Mabel Dawson (that’s Will’s sister) was trying to get at Will and put her arm through his all the while he was walking between his mother and father. “_Jiminy, Christopher, crinkums!_” I said. “Look who’s here.” And I just jumped down and ran up to them. Dub stayed where he was. That’s just like him--bashful. Mrs. Dawson started calling, “Why it’s _Roy_!” “Still out of the lunatic asylum,” Mr. Dawson said. He’s an awful nice man, he just grabbed hold of my hand and he put his arm around my shoulder and he said to Mabel, “Look out you don’t kiss the wrong boy by mistake.” Then he said, “Well, tell us the worst, here we are as per orders.” I could see Mrs. Dawson was kind of anxious but Will didn’t give her a chance to be anxious very long. He said, “Did it scare you, the telegram?” Mr. Dawson said, “It didn’t scare me but it put me financially in a hole, paying for it collect. I was afraid we wouldn’t have the carfare to come up here. It was as long as a spelling lesson. Your mother has been a little anxious but I told her everything was O. K.” “What telegram?” I asked him. Mabel said, “Goodness, gracious--show Roy the telegram, Dad. I never saw such a telegram in my life! Since Dad paid for it, he says I can’t have a fur coat next winter.” “No new car now,” Mr. Dawson said. Then he gave me a kind of a wink--gee he’s awful nice. He said, “Here Roy, you glance this telegram over sometime when you have a couple of hours to spare.” Oh boy, this was the telegram. I hope nobody ever sends me one like that, collect. Try to come to-morrow instead of next week. Important but don’t worry am all right. Need you to help me but tell Mom don’t worry. Train gets here two fifty-eight. Be sure don’t fail. Will explain. Am well. Will expect you sure. Will. Mr. Dawson said, “Do you see how he could be well after sending a wire like that? I should think he’d be suffering from exhaustion.” “And think of the cost of the ink,” I said. “Anyway it was good exercise for his wrist.” Mr. Dawson slapped me on the shoulder and he said, “Same old Roy.” Then he said, “Well, Billy, what’s the matter?” I looked up the platform to where Dub was sitting all alone swinging his legs from the baggage truck. He didn’t look like a Scout at all. CHAPTER XXXI HELD