the junction." And thus speaking the stranger left the car.
As was but natural, Dave gazed at the valise curiously and wondered what it could contain that made it so heavy. One end of the bag was marked "W. F. F., New York."
"Maybe he is a traveler for a hardware house," thought the youth. "Their goods are all heavy. But why should he carry his samples around Hemson? I don't think there are half a dozen stores in the whole place. Or maybe he's a book agent."
The best part of half an hour passed and the stranger did not come back. Then came a sudden sharp jerk of the train which sent the man's valise to the floor of the car with a crash.
"Something must have broken that time," thought Dave, and getting up he took the bag and restored it to its original position. One of the clasps had become undone, and through a slit in the valise he caught sight of something that shone like gold.
"Hello, he must have some kind of ware in this valise," reasoned Dave. "Gold-plated ware perhaps. Maybe he is selling such stuff on the installment plan." A drummer had once visited the farm with silver-ware, which he wished to sell for a certain sum down and so much per week thereafter.
