At this, the gentleman on the next seat turned and gave Albert a quick, searching glance.  But the conceited boy was too much occupied with himself to notice the movement, and kept on talking.  Now and then the thought of the victim whom he had so cruelly deceived seemed to come back and amuse him amazingly.

“Wonder where the old man is now.  Ha, ha!  Do you suppose he has found out where Harrowtown is?  Oh, but wasn’t it rich to see how scared he was when I awoke him?  And how he jumped and scrambled out of the car!  ’Pon my word, I never saw anything so comical.”

Here the stranger turned again and shot another quick glance, this time from indignant eyes, and his lips parted as if about to utter a stern reproof.  But he did not speak.

We will now leave Albert and his fellow-travelers, and follow good Gideon Randal.

It was quite dark when he stepped from the cars.  “Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Aaron Harrington?” he inquired of a man at the station.

“There’s no such man living here, to my knowledge,” was the reply.

“What, isn’t this Harrowtown?” asked Mr. Randal, in great consternation.

“No, it is Whipple Village.”

“Then I got out at the wrong station.  What shall I do?” in a voice of deep distress.

“Go right to the hotel and stay till the train goes in the morning,” said the man, pleasantly.

There was no alternative.  Mr. Randal passed a restless night at the hotel, and at an early hour he was again at the station, waiting for the train.  His face was pale, and his eye wild and anxious.  “The stage broke down, and I missed the first train,” thought he, “and then that boy told me to get out here.  I’ve made a bad beginning and I’m afraid this trip will have a bad ending.”

[Illustration:  “Allow me to assist you, sir.”]

There were many passengers walking to and fro on the platform, waiting for the cars to come.

Among them was a plain-featured, honest-looking boy, who had been accompanied to the station by his mother.  Just before she bade him “good-bye,” she said, “Lyman, look at that pale, sad old man.  I don’t believe he is used to traveling.  Perhaps you can help him along.”

As the train came into the station, the lad stepped up to Mr. Randal, and said, respectfully:  “Allow me to assist you, sir.”  Then he took hold of his arm, and guided him into the car to a seat.

“Thank you, my boy.  I’m getting old and clumsy, and a little help from a young hand comes timely.  Where are you going, if I may ask?”

“To Harrowtown, sir.  I saw an advertisement for a boy in a store, and I’m going to try to get the situation.  My name is Lyman Dean.”

“Ah?  I’m sure I wish you success, Lyman, for I believe you’re a good boy.  You are going to the same place I am.  I want to find Aaron Harrington, but I’ve had two mishaps.  I don’t know what’s coming next.”