CHAPTER IX.
A PLAUSIBLE STRANGER.
Three days later found Carl still on his travels.
It was his custom to obtain his meals at a
cheap hotel, or, if none were met with, at a
farmhouse, and to secure lodgings where he
could, and on as favorable terms as possible.
He realized the need of economy, and felt that
he was practicing it. He had changed his ten-
dollar bill the first day, for a five and several
ones. These last were now spent, and the five-
dollar bill alone remained to him. He had
earned nothing, though everywhere he had been
on the lookout for a job.
Toward the close of the last day he overtook
a young man of twenty-five, who was traveling
in the same direction.
"Good-afternoon," said the young man, sociably.
"Good-afternoon, sir."
"Where are you bound, may I ask?"
"To the next town."
"Fillmore?"
"Yes, if that is the name."
"So am I. Why shouldn't we travel together?"
"I have no objection," said Carl, who was
glad of company.
"Are you in any business?"
"No, but I hope to find a place."
"Oh, a smart boy like you will soon find employment."
"I hope so, I am sure. I haven't much money
left, and it is necessary I should do something."
"Just so. I am a New York salesman, but
just now I am on my vacation--taking a pedestrian
tour with knapsack and staff, as you see.
The beauty of it is that my salary runs on just
as if I were at my post, and will nearly pay
all my traveling expenses."
"You are in luck. Besides you have a good place
to go back to.
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