But, disagreeable as it was, it pleased Robert, and soon the railroad station came in sight.
"There are the fellows who are after my bag!" cried our hero, as the hack came to a halt. He had espied Hammerditch and Le Fevre making their way to the baggage room.
"You are certain they are after the valise? Perhaps you may be mistaken," went on the driver, who was a rather elderly man and cautious.
"I'll watch them and make sure," said Robert.
Taking his station behind the baggage room door, our hero saw the Englishman and the French Canadian approach the baggage master.
"I am after my valise," said the Englishman, producing Robert's check. "My son left it here a few hours ago. I have concluded to remain in Muskegon over night."
"All right, sir," answered the baggage master, taking the check. He glanced at the piles of baggage which littered the room. "What kind of a looking bag was it?"
For the minute Hammerditch was nonplussed, as he did not remember Robert's bag very well.
"It was—er—a tan-colored bag, not very large," he stammered. "I just bought it, so I don't remember it—er—very well."