"No, keep the change, my lad. You'll find a use for it, I make no doubt."
"After all," thought Grit, who did not forget to thank his liberal patron, "this isn't going to be so bad a day for me."
Five minutes later a man with a heavy black beard and rather shabbily attired presented himself as a passenger.
"I say, boy," said he, "do you know a man named Brandon that has recently gone to Chester?"
"Yes," answered Grit.
"All right. When we get over on the other side, you can just point out to me where he lives."
CHAPTER XVI. MR. BRANDON'S FRIEND.
It was clear that Grit's new passenger was a stranger in the neighborhood. Had he been a resident of Chester or Portville, the young boatman would have known him. It must be confessed, however, that the appearance of the newcomer was not such as to render any one anxious to make his acquaintance. He was a black-haired, low-browed man, with a cunning, crafty look, and, to sum up, with the general appearance of a tramp.
He seated himself comfortably, and scanned the young boatman critically.