“It doesn’t seem real,” muttered Bub.
“They’re both in there now, a-hugging each other,” excitedly assured Abner.
“Stanley Malcolm is undoubtedly President Thaxter’s nephew,” declared Hatton, slowly returning to his normal cast of countenance.
“And to think how ye refused him the chance to go with me to Flat-Top,” murmured Abner.
Hatton winced. “Of course I’m not supposed to know who a strange boy is who gives no account of himself,” he defended. “Had I known he was related to President Thaxter I should have given him a reception worthy of his high connections—that is, insofar as my humble means would permit.”
“Then I’m mighty glad ye didn’t know,” cried Abner. “Fer then I’d never had a chance to get acquainted with one of the best younkers that ever made fool mistakes in the woods.”
“And the Great Northern would not have won the fight against Jim Nace,” added Bub, dancing about for sheer joy.
At this point Thaxter opened the office door and motioned the three to enter. Bub and Abner were diffidently hanging back when Stanley looked over his uncle’s shoulder and commanded, “Hi, you two. Come in here.
