The train was a slow one, and made a number of stops. When about half way on the journey there was a delay, caused by the wreck of a freight train, and it was nearly three o'clock when Nat arrived at the railroad station in Cove Point. This was a small town, depending for its existence on what traffic passed up and down the lake, and what little patronage came to it over the railroad.
"Where's the police station?" asked Nat of a sleepy man at the depot.
"They don't allow tramps to sleep in it any more," was the rather queer answer.
"Tramps? Who asked anything about tramps?" replied Nat. "I don't want to sleep there."
"Oh, excuse me," said the agent, opening his sleepy eyes a bit wider. "I didn't take a good look at you. I thought you were a tramp. Lots of 'em come in on our trains, and want to spend the night at the police station. They'd let themselves be arrested because the sheriff used to get so much a prisoner. But the county authorities put a stop to it. What's the matter? Some one rob you?"
"No," replied Nat, determined to keep his affairs to himself.
"Some crime been committed?" persisted the agent, for he thought it was rather unusual for a boy to be asking his way to the police station at three o'clock in the morning.
"I want to see a policeman," replied Nat, "and I thought the best place would be the station house."
"There used to be a policeman stationed here nights," went on the agent. "But he's gone now. If it was anything about the railroad I could attend to it for you."
"No, thank you. If you'll tell me where the station house is, I'll be much obliged."