"Journey?"

"Yes; between you and me, I believe that Peter has gone in search
of someone who can sell him, or give him, a few forty-five cartridges."

"He'd better apply to you, then, Tom," grinned Harry.

"Why, I couldn't sell him any," Tom replied.

"What did you do with those you had last night?"

"You remember the unfordable pond that came in one of my courses
yesterday?"

"Yes."

"To-day I threw all of Peter's .45's into the middle of the pond.
They must have sunk a foot into the mud by this time."

"Seriously, Tom, don't you believe that you'd better take one
of the revolvers that I bought and wear it on a belt?"

"Not I," retorted Reade. "Harry, I wish you could get that sort
of foolishness out of your head. A revolver is of no possible
use to a man who hasn't any killing to do. I'm trying to learn
to be a civil engineer, not a man-killer."

"Then I believe that Bad Pete will 'get' you one of these days,"
sighed Hazelton.