David's prophecy appeared to be quite true, for the Admiral proved to be so loath to proceed that every few paces he would hesitate, turn his head, and seem to be inquiring where the hay, stones, or sap buckets were to-day. It was only David's repeated urging which kept him moving at all. In consequence it was dark before the boys caught sight of the "Pine Ridge" lights gleaming through the tangle of hemlock boughs that screened the drive, and saw the door of the hospitable old farmhouse swing open. "Well, I'll wager you're pretty hungry," a cheery voice called. "Hungry, Mother! We're starved--hollow down to our shoe-strings!" Swinging himself out upon the steps Bob bent and kissed his mother. "Mother, this is my roommate, Van Blake," he added. "I'm very glad to see you, Van," Mrs. Carlton said, putting both her hands into those of the big fellow who smiled down at her. "How strange it is that although you and Bob are such friends and he is continually talking and writing of you that you and I should never have met!" "I don't just know how it's happened, Mrs. Carlton," Van answered. "It seems as if the times you've been at the school to visit I've either been away or shut up in the infirmary with chicken-pox or something. I'm great at catching diseases, you know--I get everything that's going. Father says he thinks I can't bear to let anything get by me." He laughed boyishly. "Speaking of fathers, where's Dad, Mater?" "He stopped to put another log on the fire. Come in and see what a blaze we have ready for you." The two boys followed her into the hall, while David staggered at the rear of the procession with the luggage. Mr. Carlton came forward. "This is Van Blake, Father," Bob said, proudly introducing his chum. "I'm glad to see you, young man," Mr. Carlton responded. "Bob's friends will always find a welcome from us." "Thank you, sir." Mr. Carlton reflected a moment then asked abruptly: "I don't suppose you happen to be a connection of the Colorado Blakes." "I come from Colorado," replied Van quickly. "You're not one of the sugar Blakes; not Asa Blake's son." "Yes," cried Van. "Mr. Asa Blake is my father, and he is in the beet sugar business. Do you know him?" "I believe I've met him," Mr. Carlton admitted hurriedly, stooping to push the glowing back-log a little further forward. "Why, Father--" Bob was interrupted. "Come, boys," said Mrs. Carlton bustling in. "I guess you've warmed your fingers by this time. Bob, take Van up-stairs and tumble out of those fur coats as fast as ever you can so to be ready for dinner." The lads needed no second bidding. They were up-stairs and back in the dining-room in a twinkling, and so eagerly did they chatter of their plans for the morrow that hungry though they were they almost forgot to eat.