oked foolishly at one another. Not one of them was able to answer the
simple question.

"The Suez Canal," began Grant, "connects the Mediterranean Sea with the
Red Sea."

"How do you know?" demanded Fred. "You have never seen it."

"I don't have to see it to know. I have never seen London, but I am
quite confident there is a city by that name. By the way, fellows, if
you'll wait a minute I'll show you something I put in my bag. I saved
it for a day just like this."

Rising from his seat Grant hastily sought his bag and in a brief time
rejoined his companions.

"What's the matter?" demanded John, as he saw an expression of
consternation on the face of his friend.

"Matter!" retorted Grant. "Matter enough. Somebody brought the wrong
bag."

"Let me see," said John, rising and examining the bag, which Grant had
placed on the seat near him. "That's not mine."

"It surely isn't mine," said George.

"I won't claim it either," added Fred as he glanced behind him.

"Well, it isn't mine," said Grant. "Somebody made a mistake at the
hotel this morning and instead of giving me what belonged to me they
have sent my bag off in some other direction and given me a bag that
belongs to some one else."

"Try your keys," suggested John. "Maybe it isn't as bad as you think."

"The keys don't fit," declared Grant after he had tested them all.

"Maybe there's a catch or a trick of some kind. Look again, Soc, and
see if there isn't some way to find out what there is inside that bag.
That's about the only way you can tell whose it is."

"I have been trying," retorted Grant sharply. "It's locked and I
haven't any key that will fit it."

"It feels pretty heavy," said John as he lifted the bag in question.

"Yes, it's heavier than mine," acknowledged Grant. "I don't see how
that porter could have made any such mistake."

"I don't see any way out of it, Soc, but for you to take your bag back
to Albany," said Fred.

"I'm not going back," declared Grant. "I'll send the bag back by
express and telegraph the hotel to send my bag in the same way to
Utica. If they get busy right away it ought to be there by the time we
are."

"No use, my dear friend," said John, shaking his head. "Your bag by
this time is on its way to Timbuctoo or San Francisco. Some other
fellow has it and if he has and isn't making remarks that sound like
echoes of yours, it is only because he hasn't yet found out his
mistake."

The perplexity in which Grant