The other young lady also handed me my cane, which she had picked up on leaving the boat. You had better believe I was glad, if you are fond of being correct in your opinion, for I was just making up my mind to row out upon the Lake again, and look for my crutch, as I thought it possible I might find it floating about somewhere. I would have had a wide bit of territory to canvass. CHAPTER XXXVI. TRAVELING COMPANIONS. ABOUT the middle of July, I resolved to return to Philadelphia before completing my tour; and one evening I took an express train for Pittsburg, via the Pittsburg, Fort Wayne and Chicago Railroad. The train was not crowded, and each passenger in the car I was in had a whole seat to himself. We had traveled about a hundred miles, and were rolling across the State of Indiana, in the darkness of night, when two persons got on at a station, somewhere, came to the middle of the car, and one took a seat beside me, while the other sat immediately in front. I glanced casually at my companion, and had not the slightest difficulty in making out that he was a sharper. “This is a fine evening,” he said to me, politely, as the train thundered onward. “Very,” I replied. Let it be borne in mind, however, that he had no special reason for stating, nor I for agreeing, that it was a “fine evening.” On the contrary, it was dark and cloudy, and looked like rain. “How far are you going?” he asked. “To Philadelphia,” I frankly replied. “Ah? So am I.” “Do you live there?” I queried. “No; but I have an uncle there—a merchant——” “What street?” I asked, pertly. “Why—I—O, yes! Market street.” He then changed the subject, and said: “I see you have lost a leg.” “Yes,” I assented. “In the war, I suppose?” “Yes.” “Ah!” he pursued, with earnestness, “many noble youths have made this sacrifice for their country, and I hope they will never be forgotten.” “I hope so, truly,” I replied. “I know,” he went on, “that you must find it very inconvenient traveling, in your condition—especially when it comes to changing cars, and the like—and I was going to suggest that I would remain with you till we reach Philadelphia, and render you any assistance——” “Thank you,” I interrupted. “The truth is, I used to get around very clumsily, when I had two feet to take care of; but now, having got rid of one of the encumbrances, I get about astonishingly well. If you knew how convenient it is to have but one leg to take care of, you wouldn’t retain both yours a week. You’d have one of them sawed off, sir. You would indeed.”