Not knowing what to do next, Frank remained where he was, and presently a young man, carrying a small, square hand-bag of black leather, came strolling towards him.
“Can you tell me how much further it is to Porthaven?” the young man asked, as he came to a halt, and rested his bag on the end of the bench.
“You are on the outskirts of the town, now,” was our hero’s reply.
“Good! I was afraid I had still a mile or so to go. I missed the stage from River Bend, and I did not want to waste the time, so I walked over. It’s pretty hot, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” And now Frank made room so the stranger could sit down, which he did.
“Are you acquainted in Porthaven?”
“Pretty well.”
“Then perhaps you won’t mind telling me where some of these folks live,” and the young man brought out a notebook from his pocket.
“I’ll tell you what I know willingly.”
“Live around here, I suppose?”