Dunston Porter heard the talk and looked at the others. At this Phil took a step forward.
"We are Dave Porter's school chums," he explained. "My name is Phil Lawrence, and this is Roger Morr."
"Glad to know you. Did you travel seven thousand miles to see me, too?" went on the man.
"Hardly that, but we took the trip with Dave," answered Roger.
"He wanted to find the man who looked like him," continued Phil, for he saw Dave could hardly speak for his emotion. "And he has found him. You two look exactly alike—that is, you would, if your mustache was shaved off."
"Yes?" Dunston Porter paused. "Is that all?"
"No! no!" cried Dave, struggling to keep calm. "I came to—to find out something about myself, if I could. It's a long story, and I'll have to start at the beginning. When I was a youngster about three years old, I was picked up alongside a rail road track by some farming people. They supposed I had been put off a train by somebody who wanted to get rid of me. They asked me my name, and I said something that sounded to them like Davy and Dun-Dun and Porter, and so they called me Dave Porter."
"Ah!" cried Dunston Porter, and he was all attention. "Go on."
"I was taken to the poorhouse, and then went to
