him he
need not spend for the first-class ticket.

The huge station, with its glaring lights and clanging bells, and the
outspreading city, soon gave place to prairie land.

That night I slept little, but the very time I wanted to be awake--when
we crossed the Mississippi--I was slumbering soundly, and so missed it.

"I'll bet I don't miss it coming back," I vowed.

The sight of the Missouri, however, somewhat repaid me for the loss.
What a muddy, wide river! And I thought of the thousands of miles of
country it drained, and of the forests there must be at its source. Then
came the never-ending Kansas corn-fields. I do not know whether it was
their length or their treeless monotony, but I grew tired looking at
them.

From then on I began to take some notice of my fellow-travelers. The
conductor proved to be an agreeable old fellow; and the train-boy,
though I mistrusted his advances because he tried to sell me everything
from chewing-gum to mining stock, turned out to be pretty good company.
The Negro porter had such a jolly voice and laugh that I talked to him
whenever I got the chance. Then occasional passengers occupied the seat
opposite me from town to town. They were much alike, all sunburned and
loud-voiced, and it looked as though they had all bought their high
boots and wide hats at the same shop.

The last traveller to face me was a very heavy man with a great bullet
head and a shock of light hair. His blue eyes had a bold flash, his long
mustache drooped, and there was something about him that I did not like.
He wore a huge diamond in the bosom of his flannel shirt, and a
leather watch-chain that was thick and strong enough to have held up a
town-clock.

"Hot," he said, as he mopped his moist brow.

"Not so hot as it was," I replied.

"Sure not. We're climbin' a little. He's whistlin' for Dodge City now."

"Dodge City?" I echoed, with interest. The name brought back vivid
scenes from certain yellow-backed volumes, and certain uncomfortable
memories of my father's displeasure. "Isn't this the old cattle town
where there used to be so many fights?"

"Sure. An' not so very long ago. Here, look out the window." He clapped
his big hand on my knee; then pointed. "See that hill there. Dead Man's
Hill it was once, where they buried the fellers as died with their boots
on."

I stared, and even stretched my neck out of the window.

"Yes, old Dodge was sure lively," he continued, as our train passed
on.