On the following day Joe rowed along the lake to where his old home dock had been located and made a trip to what was left of the cabin.  He spent another hour in hunting for the blue box, but without success.

“I suppose I’ll never find that box,” he sighed.  “I may as well give up thinking about it.”

From Andrew Mallison our hero had obtained his letter of recommendation and also a good pocket map of Philadelphia.  The hotel man had also made him a present of a neat suit case, in which he packed his few belongings.

Ned Talmadge came to see him off at the depot.  The day was cool and clear, and Joe felt in excellent spirits.

Soon the train came along and our hero got aboard, along with a dozen or fifteen others.  He waved a hand to Ned and his friend shouted out a good-bye.  Then the train moved on, and the town was soon left in the distance.

The car that Joe had entered was not more than quarter filled and he easily found a seat for himself by a window.  He placed his suit case at his feet and then gave himself up to looking at the scenery as it rushed past.

Joe had never spent much of his time on the railroad, so the long ride had much of novelty in it.  The scenery was grand, as they wound in and out among the hills and mountains, or crossed brooks and rivers and well-kept farms.  Numerous stops were made, and long before Philadelphia was gained the train became crowded.

“Nice day for riding,” said a man who sat down beside our hero.  He looked to be what he was, a prosperous farmer.

“It is,” answered Joe.

“Goin’ to Philadelphy, I reckon,” went on the farmer.

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s where I’m going, too.  Got a little business to attend to.”

“I am going there to try my luck,” said Joe, he felt he could talk to the old man with confidence.

“Goin’ to look fer a job, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wot kin ye do, if I might ask?”

“Oh, I’m willing to do most anything.  I’ve been taking care of rowboats and working around a summer hotel, at Lake Tandy.”

“Well, ye won’t git many boats to look at down to Philadelphy!” and the old farmer chuckled.

“I suppose not.  Maybe I’ll strike a job at one of the hotels.”

“Perhaps.  They tell me some hotels down there is monsterous—­ten an’ twelve stories high.  Ye don’t catch me goin’ to no sech place.  In case o’ fire, it’s all up with ye, if you’re on the twelfth story.”

“Are you going to Philadelphia to stay, Mr.——­”

“Bean is my name—­Josiah Bean.  I’m from Haydown Center, I am.  Got a farm there o’ a hundred acres.”

“Oh, is that so!”

“Wot’s your handle, young man?”

“My name is Joe Bodley.  I came from Riverside.”

“Proud to know you.”  And Josiah Bean shook hands.  “No, I ain’t going to stay in Philadelphy.  I’m a-going on business fer my wife.  A relative left her some property an’ I’m a-goin’ to collect on it.”