The driver took it and went back into the station. Presently the boy saw him come out again, bearing the trunk on his shoulder. He placed it in the back part of the stage, unhitched his horses, and climbed up beside his passenger.
“Now we’re all right,” he said cheerily, and clucked to his horses.
“What time is it?” asked Tommy, for it seemed to him that he must have been traveling all night, and that the dawn could not be far distant.
“Nearly ten o’clock,” said the driver. “You’ll be at Lawrenceville in half an hour.”
By a supreme effort, Tommy kept his eyes open until they had left the town behind and were rumbling briskly along a wide, level road. Then his head fell back again, and he wakened only at the journey’s end.
“The boy’s been traveling all day,” said some one, “and is nearly dead for sleep. Take him up to twenty-one, Mr. Dean.” And he was led tottering away to bed.
CHAPTER X
AN EFFORT IN SELF-DENIAL
When Tommy opened his eyes the next morning, awakened by the ringing of a bell, he found himself lying in an iron bed, between the whitest of white sheets. It was a most comfortable bed, and he stretched himself luxuriously as he looked about the pleasant room. In an instant he found himself gazing straight into another pair of eyes, whose owner was sitting up in a bed just opposite his own.
“I say,” said the stranger, “where did you come from?”
“Wentworth, West Virginia,” answered Tommy, promptly.