In a little while the other members of the party, having read the story for themselves or heard of it from others, gathered round Merriwell.
"Well, he was an honest boy," said Hodge, a noticeable tremor in his voice.
"A better-hearted lad never lived!" Merriwell asserted.
Frank's mind went back to Fardale, and, grieved as he was, he could again hear the yells of Barney Mulloy and Hans Dunnerwust, when they crawled into bed with the lobsters, which they thought were centipedes.
It had been one of the funniest incidents of the Fardale days, for both thought they were poisoned by the bites of the creatures, and that they would surely die.

The whole thing had been a practical joke, in which Frank had played a prominent part.

And now Barney, the mischievous, the loyal, the reckless, was dead! "I can hardly believe it!" Merry declared.

"It doesn't seem possible.
But there is one thing! I shall spend some money in having those hoboes hunted down and punished for their crime." "I wish I could have happened along there about the time they jumped on him!" growled Hodge, and the light in his dark face showed that he would have done his best to make it hot for the hoboes if he could have put his hands on them.

"Barney had the right kind of stuff in him." This depressing bit of news took all the merriment and life out of the little party.