do the reminding and I will do the
story-telling. Are you satisfied and ready to go to bed and to sleep
now?"

"I guess so, yes."

"Good-night then."

"Good-night, Dad. I--I've had a bully day."

CHAPTER XI

THE CROSSING OF THE COUNTRY

In spite of the many excitements crowded into his first day in New York
Stephen found that when his head actually touched the pillow sleep was
not long in coming and he awoke the next morning refreshed by a heavy
and dreamless slumber. He was even dressed and ready for breakfast
before his father and a-tiptoe to attack whatever program the day might
present.

Fortunately Mr. Tolman was of a sufficiently sympathetic nature to
remember how he had felt when a boy, and with generous appreciation for
the lad's impatience he scrambled up and made himself ready for a
breakfast that was earlier, perhaps, than he would have preferred.

"Well, son," said he, as they took their places in the large dining
room, "what is the prospect for to-day? Are you feeling fit for more
adventures?"

"I'm primed for whatever comes," smiled the boy.

"That's the proper spirit! Indians, bandits and cowboys did not haunt
your pillow then."

"I didn't stay awake to see."

"You are a model traveler! Now we must plan something pleasant for you
to do to-day. I am not sure that we can keep up the pace yesterday set
us, for it was a pretty thrilling one. Robberies and arrests do not come
every day, to say nothing of flotillas of ships and Wild West shows.
However, we will do the best we can not to let the day go stale by
contrast. But first I must dictate a few letters and glance over the
morning paper. This won't take me long and while I am doing it I would
suggest that you go into the writing room and send a letter to your
mother. I will join you there in half an hour and we will do whatever
you like before I go to my meeting. How is that?"

"Righto!"

Accordingly, after breakfast was finished, Steve wandered off by himself
in search of paper and ink, and so sumptuous did he find the writing
appointments that he not only dashed off a letter to his mother
recounting some of the happenings of the previous day, but on
discovering a rack of post cards he mailed to Jack Curtis, Tim Barclay,
Bud Taylor and some of the other boys patronizing messages informing
them that New York was "great" and he was _sorry they were not there_.
In fact, it seemed at the moment that all those unfortunate persons wh