"I thought I knew him when he came in, but I wasn't sure," said the restaurant keeper. "The man who runs the hotel, Mr. Brown, had a lot of trouble with him because he wouldn't pay his bill—said it was too high. Then he came here once and said the meat wasn't fresh and the bread was stale and sour. I came close to pitching him out. Don't let him walk over you—if he does take your train."
"No danger," answered Dave. He had not yet forgotten the rude manner in which Isaac Pludding had shoved him.
It was soon time for the Oakdale train to arrive, and the students walked back to the depot. The snow was over a foot deep and still coming down steadily. The depot was crowded with folks, and among them they discovered Isaac Pludding, with his valise and a big bundle done up in brown paper.
"He certainly must be waiting for the train," said Dave; and he was right. When the cars came to a stop the stout man was the first person aboard. The students entered another car and secured seats in a bunch as before.
"By the way, where is Nat Poole?" asked Roger, suddenly. "I didn't see him get off the other train."
"He got off and walked towards the hotel," answered Phil. "I suppose he feels rather lonesome."
"That can't be helped," said Sam. "He makes himself so disagreeable that nobody wants him around."
Just as the train was about to start a boy leaped on the platform of the car our friends occupied, opened the door, and came in. It was Nat Poole, and he was all out of breath. He looked for a seat, but could find none.
"They ought to run more cars on this train," he muttered, to Roger. "It's a beastly shame to make a fellow stand up."
"Better write to the president of the railroad company about it, Nat," answered the senator's son, dryly.