“So. Has he much money, do you think?” Bernard began to think his companion too inquisitive, and he answered shortly, “I don’t know.”
“Hasn’t told you, I suppose. Well, I shouldn’t mind going out West myself and trying mining.”
“What business are you in?” asked Bernard, thinking he had a right to ask questions also.
“I am a traveling man,” answered the young man, after a slight hesitation.
They passed Newburg early in the afternoon. Shortly after reaching this place, as Bernard was sitting on a bench on the upper deck, his friend in the ulster came up to him hurriedly.
“Please take charge of my portmanteau a few minutes,” he said, “if it won’t be too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” replied Bernard politely.
The portmanteau was a small one, and it was hard to conjecture from its appearance what it might contain. Upon this point, however, Bernard was not curious.
“It can’t contain anything very valuable,” he reflected, “or the owner would hardly trust a stranger with it.”
They reached Newburg, and remained some time. Bernard thought of going down to the lower deck, but it occurred to him that the owner of the portmanteau might come back for it and be unable to find him. This was rather embarrassing and he felt sorry that he had been so obliging as to assume charge of property not his own.