The sun sank, the darkness came on, but still the train sped swiftly over its iron pathway. The passengers settled back in their seats, some fell asleep, and the hum of conversation ceased. Fred too gave up his trips through the cars, and stretching himself out on a seat, closed his eyes. Presently the train came to a stop, and the conductor, putting in his head at the door, called out "Niagara Falls." Fred rose hastily, for he had made up his mind to get out at this point. He descended from the train, and found himself on the platform of the station. He had already selected the hotel, a small one where the rate was very moderate, and as there was no carriage representing it at the train he set out to walk. It was a small, plain-looking inn, of perhaps thirty rooms, named after the proprietor: THE LYNCH HOUSE. On the road thither he was overtaken by a stranger, whom he remembered as one of the passengers on the second car. He appeared to be about forty years of age, and though it was a warm summer evening he was muffled up about the neck. "Are you going to stop here over night?" he asked. "Yes, sir." "You are the train boy, are you not?" "Yes, sir." "What hotel shall you put up at?" "One recommended to me by the conductor--the Lynch House." "I think I will stop there too." "You may not like it. It is a small, cheap house." "It doesn't matter. I am well provided with money, but I don't care for style or fashion. I am an invalid, and I prefer the quiet of a small hotel. There will be less noise and confusion." "Very well, sir. I think that is the hotel yonder." Such proved to be the case. It was large on the ground, but only three stories in height. Over the portico was a sign, bearing the name. It was by no means fashionable in its appearance, but looked comfortable. Fred and the stranger entered. A sleepy-looking clerk sat behind the desk. He opened his eyes, and surveyed the late comers. "Can you give me a room?" asked Fred. "I would like one too," said the other. "We've only got one room left," said the clerk. "That's a back room on the second story. Are you gentlemen in company?" "No," answered Fred. "We are strangers to each other." "Then I can't give but one of you a room. If you don't mind rooming together, you can both be accommodated." "Are there two beds in a room?" asked the stranger. "Yes." "Then I don't object to occupying it with this young man. He is a stranger to me, but I watched him on board the train, and I am sure he is all right." "Thank you, sir," said Fred. "Well," said the clerk, "what does the boy say?"