"You must have made a hit with him."

"No. I just think he is very kind."

"Huh! That's a new one. You're the first one that ever called old
Perkins kind. If you could hear some of the men talk about how he has
treated them, you wouldn't think he was so kind."

"I don't know about that. I only know he was very kind to me," returned
Bob, "and I like him. If his men were honest and square with him, I
think he would be with them."

The approach of the train to a station, necessitating the member of the
train crew going about his duty, prevented him from plying Bob further
with questions, much to the latter's relief.

Placing his box of lunch on the floor beside him, Bob leaned back in his
chair, partially closed his eyes, and gazed about him at the other
passengers. But there was none who interested him, and he soon turned
his mind to the contemplation of his position.

It was with difficulty that he could realize that he was actually on his
way to the great West. But the steady motion of the train, the whirl of
the wheels, and the occasional blast of the engine's whistle, told him
that he was not dreaming, and after enjoying for a while the sensation
of travelling he began to think about what he should do when he reached
Chicago.

He had read much of the enormous area the city covered, and he wondered
if he would have any difficulty in finding the home of the woman whose
husband was to form such a necessary link in his travelling
arrangements.

"Suppose she shouldn't be at home, or suppose Mr. Cameron doesn't feel
like helping me? I guess under those circumstances it would be necessary
for me to get a job somewhere. But I won't be an errand boy in a grocery
store," he promised himself. But with the custom of looking only on the
bright side of things, which is a fortunate habit of youth, he began to
think of the good times he would have riding the horses on the plains,
and of watching the cowboys as they roped the steers and branded them.
And his fancy even pictured himself as a successful participant in
various nerve-stirring contests.

"I may be from the East, but I won't let them call me a tenderfoot," Bob
exclaimed earnestly; "and I'll try and get on the right side of them, so
they won't play tricks on me."

Bob's idea of cowboys had been gathered from his reading of many stories
of life on the plains, and was, therefore, rather vague. And it was
while holding imaginary conversations with ranchmen conjured