The train remained so long that when finally it started there was no one on the station platform but the agent, whose face was not familiar to the last passenger.
A gust of wind brought to the platform a scrap of a circus-poster which had been loosened by recent rain from a fence opposite the station.

The agent kicked the paper from the platform; Sam picked it up and looked at it; it bore a picture of a gorgeously-colored monkey and the head and shoulders of an elephant.
"Ain't you goin' to put it back ?" he asked.
"Not much," said the agent.

"I don't rent that fence to the circus, or menagerie, or whatever it is." "Can I have it ?" "Findings are keepings," said the agent, "especially when they ain't worth looking for; that's railroad rule, and I guess circus-companies haven't got a better one." The finder sat down on the platform, took a knife from his pocket, and carefully cut the monkey and the elephant's head from the paper.

Then he walked to the end of the platform and looked cautiously in the direction of the town.

A broad road, crossed by a narrow street, led from the station; into the street the little man hurried, believing himself secure from observation, but just then the door of a coal-yard office opened, and Judge Prency, who had been county judge, and Deacon Quickset emerged.