"
Here the stranger turned again and shot another quick glance, this
time from indignant eyes, and his lips parted as if about to utter a
stern reproof. But he did not speak. Some hidden motive withheld him.
We will now leave Albert and his fellow travelers, and follow good
Gideon Randal.
It was quite dark when he stepped from the cars, and he inquired of a
man at the station, "Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Aaron
Harrington?"
"There's no such man living here, to my knowledge," was the reply.
"What, isn't this Harrowtown?" asked Mr. Randal in great
consternation.
"No, it is Whipple Village."
"Then I got out at the wrong station. What shall I do?" in a voice of
deep distress.
"Go right to the hotel and stay till the train goes in the morning,"
said the man, pleasantly.
There was no alternative, Mr. Randal passed a restless night at the
hotel, and at an early hour he was again at the station, waiting for
the train. His face was pale, and his eye wild and anxious. "The stage
broke down, and I missed the first train," thought he, "and then that
boy told me to get out here. I've made a bad beginning, and I'm afraid
this trip will have a bad ending."
There were other passengers walking to and fro on the platform,
waiting for the cars to come.
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