It naturally followed that the Ramblers, happening to be in Chicago at the same time, received an invitation to visit the Collins mansion. And it also followed that, as the Ramblers were going to have the use of a seven passenger touring car, Victor Collins was more than pleased to meet them. Mr. Somers, Bob’s father, having motored to Chicago on business, returned by train, leaving the car at a garage, so that the boys might use it for the remainder of the journey to Kingswood, Wisconsin, their home. When Victor Collins learned of this intention he instantly announced a determination to go with the crowd as far as Kenosha. “You see,” he explained to Bob Somers, “my Uncle Ralph lives there; and he owns the dandiest motor yacht your eyes ever looked upon. He’s invited me to take a trip to Milwaukee. Talk about sport!” So the morning had come when Victor’s anticipations were about to be realized. “You’re all as brown as a bunch of street cleaners,” he remarked, after salutations had been exchanged. “I don’t believe that sun-tinting will ever wear off, either. Hello, Hannibal, hello!” He turned and faced the house. A very dignified colored man, wearing an immaculately clean apron, had opened the door and was standing with a large suit case in his hand. “Bring it down and chuck it into the car,” commanded Victor. “An awful lot of stuff for a short trip,” remarked Tom. “You ought to throw out half.” “Fade away,” retorted Victor. “There’s another one coming.” “Mercy!” snickered Tom. “Why don’t you bring a department store along?” Hannibal made short work of depositing the heavy suit cases in the tonneau. Then, grinning broadly, he drew forth a letter and handed it to Charlie Blake. “It am just come, suh,” he explained. “The handwriting spells Kirk Talbot’s name as loud as those checks on Victor’s cap, fellows,” cried Blake. “Kirk Talbot?” queried Tom, interestedly. “We met Kirk often on one of our trips. Remember, Bob?” Bob did, and smiled. “I’m sorry that he and Nat Wingate won’t be back in the school this term,” he remarked. “By the way, Dave, we’ll have to hustle to catch up with our studies.” “Don’t mention it, Bob. Just think of how the doors of that school are yawning for us even now.” “They’ll have to yawn a mighty big, wide yawn for you,” said Victor. “Go ahead, Charlie, read that letter out loud,” cried Tom. Blake was soon smiling broadly. “Kirk has a few interesting knocks to hand out, Bob,” he chuckled. “Just listen: “‘DEAR CHARLIE:-- “‘Your last effusion is lying on my desk. So you are actually going to meet Bob Somers and his chums! Say, don’t those chaps manage to have the finest time ever, with their aeroplanes, house-boats, automobiles and a dash of cowboy life in between! “‘And you are going to motor back to Kingswood with them! That’s great.