"Where are you steerin'?" inquired the Yankee. "I'm expectin' to fetch up at San Francisco some time, if I don't get lost in the woods."
"That is our destination, my friend," returned Ferguson.
"Would you mind my joining your party?" asked Onthank. "It's lonesome travelin' by one's self without a soul to speak to."
"We shall be glad of your company," said the Scotchman, sincerely, for, though naturally cautious, he could not suspect the new-comer of anything which would make him an undesirable companion.
"Perhaps you'd like to know who I am," said the new acquaintance. "My name is Ebenezer Onthank, from Green Mountain Mills, in Vermont. My father is deacon of the Baptist Church at home."
"I suppose you will take his place when you get older," said Tom, gravely.
"No, I guess not. I wonder what Susan Jones would say to my bein' a deacon!" and Ebenezer burst into a loud laugh.
"Is Miss Jones a particular friend of yours?" asked Tom, slyly.
"I should say she was. Why, I expect to marry her when I get home."
"I congratulate you."