Arriving at Fairmount it was learned that Eli had left for Baltimore the night before. It came to light that Morgan had left on the same train, boarding it as it passed through Grafton. Some members of the company contended that Eli had gone on to Baltimore to arrange for their coming and that they would hear from him or see him soon. Others, that he had left for good. The four musicians, men who had seen more of the world than the ambitious amateurs, boarded a train for Wheeling. Alfred decided that he and his followers would make their way to New Geneva and there board the boat for home. Loading their few belongings, including Alfred's hair trunk with the brass tack ornaments, into a farm wagon drawn by two big bay mules, the homeward journey was begun. Not in dejection, as one might imagine, the boys were too full of spirit to be cast down greatly. One or two began to fret but the jibes of the others soon had all in good humor. The roads through the hilly, muddy country were not as firm as those previously traversed, a contingency the boys had not taken into consideration. At times the mules were unable to move the wagon, even though all the minstrels were pushing or prying to the extent of their muscular power. Instead of dust, as on the first day out, the minstrels were covered with mud, from shoes to hats. Arriving at New Geneva, mud bespattered, tired and hungry, they congregated on the old wharf boat until the steamer was heard coming below the bend. When the boat hove in sight, her prow cutting the water, it was the most welcome sight Alfred ever remembered witnessing. Safely aboard, it was found that not in the whole party was there enough money to pay the fares to Brownsville. Therefore deck passage had to be taken and without meals. George Warner, the colored steward, knew every one of the boys. One by one they were smuggled into the pantry and a meal that was never excelled given each one. It was two o'clock in the morning when the boat touched at Brownsville. Alfred determined to carry his trunk home with him. Hoisting it on his broad shoulders he began the walk up the hill homewards; every little ways lowering the burden to the ground, he would seat himself upon it pondering as to the tale to tell of the ignominious ending of his dream of prosperity. He thought of Lin's parting words: "I hope ye bring the koon skin hum," and he could not suppress his laughter. He brought the big iron knocker down rather lightly, hoping only Lin would hear it. He did not care to face his father or mother until he got a little more courage. Again the knocker was raised and lowered, a little louder than before. The window sash above was raised and the father's voice, gruffer than Alfred had heard it in a long time, demanded, "Who's there?" Alfred hesitated to give his name. "Who's there?" louder and more gruffly than before, impelled the boy to answer: "It's me." "Who's me?" came from the window quickly.