"No, I won't. I should like to have you come to New York. I know no one
there, and I should feel glad to see a familiar face."

The train came up in time, and Rodney was one of half a dozen passengers
who entered the cars.

He obtained a place next to a stout man dressed in a pepper and salt
suit.

"Is this seat engaged?" asked Rodney.

"Yes--to you," and his fellow passenger laughed.

Rodney laughed too, for he saw that the remark was meant to be jocose.

He put his gripsack on the floor at his feet, but held the casket in his
lap. He did not like to run any risk with that.

"Are you a drummer?" asked the stout man, with a glance at the casket.

"No, sir."

"I thought you might be, and that THAT might contain your samples."

"No, sir. That is private property."

He had thought of telling what it contained, but checked himself. He
knew nothing of his companion, and was not sure how far it might be safe
to trust a stranger.