AN OLD FRIEND TURNS UP
The boys passed a fairly comfortable night on the train, even though it
was rather warm. They got up early in the morning, to find themselves
rolling swiftly along over the level fields of the middle West.
“Where is Uncle Tom?” asked Fred when the twins appeared.
“He’ll be out in a few minutes,” answered Randy. “I don’t think he
slept very well. I heard him moving around quite a bit during the
night.”
“I’m afraid he’s worried about that mine, Randy,” said Jack.
“Well, I think he’s got enough to worry about,” put in Andy.
“Seventy-five thousand dollars is a lot of money.”
“I’ll say so,” came from Fred. “Gee, I certainly hope he finds
everything all right when we get out there!”
“I’m anxious to get out on Sunset Trail,” said Jack. “That name
certainly sounds interesting to me. We ought to have the best times
ever out there.”
Lunch and dinner had been had on the train the day before, and now
as soon as Tom Rover appeared the crowd entered the dining car for
breakfast.
“I think I’ll have some cantaloupe to start with,” said Fred. “That is,
if――――” He stopped short and stared out of the window. The train had
rolled into the station of a fair-sized town and come to a halt where a
small crowd was collected.
“What are you looking at, Fred?” questioned Jack, as he noticed his
cousin’s manner.
“Look! Look!” cried Fred. “See that man with the big panama hat? Am I
mistaken or is that really Uncle Hans Mueller?”
Jack gave a quick look and so did the others, including Tom Rover.
“Gee, it’s Uncle Hans, all right enough!” exclaimed Andy. He rapped on
the window. “Hello there!” he called out through the screen. “Hello
there, Uncle Hans!”
The man on the platform started and turned around in bewilderment.
“Hello there, Uncle Hans! Don’t you see us?” broke in Fred, knocking on
another window.
“Py chimminy Christmas!” gasped Hans Mueller, for it was really he. “If
it don’t be dem Rofer poys! What do you know apout dat!”
“Are you going to take this train?” questioned Tom.
“Hello der, Dom! You der too, eh? Yes, I was going to takes dis train
by Chicago on. I was waiting till dey start already. Dey got five
minutes here. But now I comes on board quick right avay,” went on Hans
Mueller, and then disappeared in the direction of a spot where the door
to the steps of one of the vestibules of the cars was open.
As my old readers know, Hans Mueller had been a chum of the older
Rovers when they had attended Putnam Hall. He was of German extraction,
but during the World War had proven his American patriotism in a marked
degree. After leaving school he had settled in Chicago, and was now
the owner of a chain of well-known delicatessen stores. He was without
family, and had always insisted that the Rover boys and girls call him
uncle.
“I’m going after him and bring him in!” cried Jack, and left the table
as he spoke. He had to walk through two cars, and then found the
delicatessen dealer approaching him. Hans Mueller was grinning from ear
to ear.
“Dis is de surbrize of mine life!” he exclaimed, as he shook hands. “I
was mighty glad to see you. You go py Chicago, eh? Vell, I go der too.
You know dat is where my chain of stores is.”
“Come on and have some breakfast with us, Uncle Hans,” said Jack.
“We’ll be real glad to have your company.”
“Breakfast, eh? Why, I got breakfast t’ree hours ago! But I come and
have some coffee mit you, anyhow. I can trink a couple of cubs of
coffee any time.”
The twins were sitting with their father, leaving Fred and Jack at a
table opposite. The others greeted the newcomer cordially, and then
Hans Mueller sat down beside Fred.
“You must be my guests while you are py Chicago in,” said the
delicatessen dealer, when they had explained the situation to him. “I
got patchelor quarters mit two extra bedrooms, and I can get anudder
bedroom by one of my neighbors. I got a gut German cook, and I know you
been satisfied.”
“That will be very kind of you, Hans,” answered Tom.
“Vat do you say, poys?”
“I’d like to go, if it won’t be putting Uncle Hans out too much,” said
Randy readily.
“You can’t put me oud,” said the delicatessen dealer. “I vill stay in
der house mit you.”
While the Rovers ate and the delicatessen dealer sipped one cup of
coffee after another, the former gave a few of the details of what had
brought them on the trip.
“I’d like to go oud Vest mit you, but I can’t do it,” said Hans
Mueller. “I got to tend to my chain of stores. Last veek I opened me
a new one, and next month I’m going to open anudder. Dat vill make
fourteen all told.”
“You must be getting rich, Uncle Hans,” remarked Randy.
“Veil, I make enough py mine stores to keep de mule from de window.”
“The mule from the window?” queried Fred, in perplexity.
“Yes. You know vat I mean. Maybe he don’t was a mule; maybe he was a
lion. Anyway, he was some kind of a wild animals.”
“Oh, I know what you mean!” exclaimed Jack. “You mean ‘keep the wolf
from the door.’”
“Yes, dot’s him,” answered the delicatessen dealer complacently.
The Rover boys were delighted to have Hans Mueller with them, for they
loved to hear him talk. While a pupil at Putnam Hall Hans’s English had
not been of the best, and since he had withdrawn to Chicago, and gone
into the delicatessen business, it had certainly not improved.
“I suppose he comes in contact with so many foreigners his tongue gets
all twisted up,” was the way Jack explained it. “But he’s a dear old
Uncle Hans, nevertheless.”
“Many is der time what I’d like to go py Putnam Hall pack,” said Uncle
Hans, with a mountainous sigh. “But dat old school ain’t no more, so I
hear.”
“Yes, you are right. Captain Putnam had to retire on account of his
age,” answered Tom. “We certainly did have some great times there,
Hans.”
“Yes, Dom, so we did. Do you remember dem other fellows――dat Villiam
Philander Dubbs, for instance?”
“Do I remember William Philander Tubbs!” cried Tom, mentioning a dudish
youth who had created considerable sport for him and his brothers.
“I’ll never forget him!”
“Do you know what Dubbs is doing now?” went on Uncle Hans, his small
eyes twinkling.
“No.”
“Dot is a good joke, ha-ha!” roared Uncle Hans. “Dot is de best joke
what I know of!”
“What does this William Philander Tubbs do?” questioned Jack eagerly.
“Vell, dot fellow vas de most redicular boy whatever lived. His shoes
vas patent leathers, and his neckties alvays silks, and so loud dey
could almost talk. And he vas so clean! Oh, you nefer saw a fellow what
washed himself so much and combed his hair so often. Vell, I don’t
t’ink he vas so clean now, nor so dudish either, ha-ha!” exploded Uncle
Hans. “T’ree years ago Villiam Philander Dubbs’s uncle dies and he
leaves all his property to dot young man.”
“That was nice enough,” put in Randy.
“You t’ink so? You know what dat property vas? Dat property vas a
brickyard where dey makes t’ousands and t’ousands of bricks.”
“A brickyard!” cried Tom, with a grin. “Really?”
“Dot’s it, Dom. And now Villiam Philander Dubbs he sells bricks,
t’ousands and t’ousands of ’em. And not only dat, he goes down py de
yard and he sees dat dose bricks are made shust right. Now, can you
beat him?” and once again Uncle Hans roared.
“Well, that’s the way it goes,” said Tom, laughing also. “The fellow
who would like to become an artist runs a shoe factory, and the fellow
who would like to be a carpenter has a music store willed to him.”
Hans Mueller had kept track of quite a few of the former pupils of
Putnam Hall, and he told Tom many interesting bits of news. In the
course of this talk he mentioned several jokes that had been played and
then turned to Andy and Randy.
“You must not t’ink dot your fader was alvays so meek like a donkey,”
he said, closing one eye suggestively. “Your fader could play more
jokes like a dog could scratch fleas.”
“Now, see here, Hans! You mustn’t give me away like that,” remonstrated
Tom. “The boys will get the idea that I was a regular cut-up.”
“A cut-up! Ha-ha! You was worse like a t’ousand cut-ups, Dom Rover!”
laughed the delicatessen dealer. “Ven dose poys cut up, it ain’t to be
wondered at, because dey vas slices from der old stump.”
“Wow-wow!” exploded Randy. “Slices of the old stump! Did you get that,
Andy?”
“I sure did!” was the ready reply. “It knocks ‘chips of the old block’
silly, doesn’t it?” and then all the boys began to laugh.
The boys were so interested talking to Uncle Hans that almost before
they knew it the train rolled into the big Union Station in Chicago
and they had to alight. Hans Mueller rushed off to engage a couple of
taxicabs, and in a few minutes more they were on their way to his
bachelor quarters which were on a pleasant side street and not so very
far distant.
“I like to live close py mine main stores,” explained Hans Mueller.
“Den if anyt’ing goes wrong, I can pe right on de spot quick.”
Even though he was in the heart of Chicago, his quarters were
exceedingly comfortable, and the boys speedily made themselves at home.
Then Tom Rover went off to interview the two men who were interested in
the Rolling Thunder mine.
“I got to go to pusiness now,” said Hans Mueller. “What would you poys
like to do?”
“I think we’ll just take a look around,” said Jack. “We won’t bother
you any more for the present.”
“Vell, you be here in time for supper at six o’clock,” said the
delicatessen dealer, and so it was arranged. Then the boys sallied
forth to look around the big city of the lakes.