一个清晨，火车站管理员贾金斯发现了一个因汽车故障在枢纽站呆了一夜的流浪汉。起初，贾金斯驱赶流浪汉，但流浪汉的伶牙俐齿让贾金斯只得作罢。后来贾金斯向流浪汉谈起了一个神秘的有钱人……Mr.Judkins，the station agenta at Chazy Junction，came out of his little house at daybreak，shivered a bit in the chill morning air and gave an involuntary start as he saw a private car on the sidetrack.There were two private cars，to be exact—a sleeper and a baggage car—and Mr.Judkins knew the three o'clock train must have left them as it passed through.
"Ah，"said he aloud；"the nabobsb hev arrove.""Who are the nabobs？"asked a quiet voice beside him.
Again Mr.Judkins started；he even stepped back a pace to get a better view of the stranger，who had approached so stealthilyc through the dim light that the agent was unaware of his existence until he spoke.
"Who be you？"he demanded，eyeing the man suspiciously.
"Never mind who I am，"retorted the other in a grumpyd tone；"the original question is 'who are the nabobs？'""See here，young feller；this ain't no place fer tramps，"observed Mr.Judkins，frowning with evident displeasure；"Chazy Junction's got all it kin do to support its reg'lar inhabitants.You'll hev to move on."The stranger sat down on a baggage truck and eyed the private car re？ectively.He wore a rough gray suit，baggy and threadbaree，a flannel shirt with an old black tie carelessly knotted at the collar，a brown felt hat with several holes inthe crown，and coarse cowhide shoes that had arrived at the last stages of usefulness.You would judge him to be from twenty—five to thirty years of age；you would note that his face was browned from exposure，that it was rather set and expressionless but in no way repulsivea.His eyes，dark and retrospectiveb，were his most redeeming featurec，yet betrayed little of their owner's character.Mr.Judkins could make nothing of d the fellow，beyond the fact that he was doubtless a "tramp"and on that account most unwelcome inthis retired neighborhood.
Even tramps were unusual at Chazy Junction.The foothills were sparsely settled and the inhabitants too humble to be attractive to gentlemen of the road，while the rocky highways，tortuouse and uneven，offered no invitation to the professional pedestrian.
"You'll hev to move on！"repeated the agent，more sternly.
"I can't，"replied the other with a smile."The car I was—er—attached to has come to a haltf.The engine has left us，and—here we are，I and the nabobs.""Be'n ridin'the trucks，eh？""No；rear platform.Very comfortable it was，and no interruptions.The crazy old train stopped so many timesduring the night that I scarcely woke up when they sidetracked us here，and the first thing I knew I was abandoned in this wilderness.As it grew light I began to examine my surroundings，and discovered you.Glad to meet you，sir.""You needn't be.""Don't begrudgea me the pleasure，I implore you.I can't blame you for being gruff b and unsociable；were you otherwise you wouldn't reside at—at—"he turned his head to read the half legible sign on the station house，"at Chazy Junction.I'm familiar with most parts of the United States，but Chazy Junction gets my ？utters.Why，oh，why in the world did it happen？"Mr.Judkins scowledc but made no answer.He was wise enough to understand he was no match in conversation for this irresponsible outcast who knew the great world as perfectly as the agent knew his junction.He turned away and stared hardat the silent sleeper，the appearance of which was not whollyunexpected.
