He had a fine face, cut clearly, and of a somewhat severe and melancholy cast.

Always he gazed straight before him, and his mind seemed to be far from the people in the car.

It was obvious that he was not the ordinary traveler, and the boy spent some time in trying to guess his identity.

Then he gave it up, because he was growing sleepy.
Excitement and the long physical strain were now telling upon Harry.
He leaned his head against the corner of the seat and the wall, drew his overcoat as a blanket about his body and shoulders, and let his eyelids droop.

The dim train grew dimmer, and he slept.
The train was due at Nashville between midnight and morning, and Harry was awakened by the conductor a half hour before he reached the city.
He shook himself, put on his overcoat that he had used as a blanket, and tried to look through the window.