Of course, Luke had no thought of this when he set out. To him it had been a marked day on account of the skating match, but this had turned out a disappointment. He accomplished his errand, which occupied a considerable time, and then set out on his return. It was half-past eight, but the moon had risen and diffused a mild radiance over the landscape. Luke thought he would shorten his homeward way by taking a path through the woods. It was not over a quarter of a mile, but would shorten the distance by as much more. The trees were not close together, so that it was light enough to see. Luke had nearly reached the edge of the wood, when he overtook a tall man, a stranger in the neighborhood, who carried in his hand a tin box. Turning, he eyed Luke sharply.
"Boy, what's your name?" he asked.
"Luke Larkin," our hero answered, in surprise.
"Where do you live?"
"In the village yonder."
"Will you do me a favor?"
"What is it, sir?"
"Take this tin box and carry it to your home. Keep it under lock and key till I call for it."
"Yes, sir, I can do that. But how shall I know you again?"
"Take a good look at me, that you may remember me."