“Well, I’d like to ride,” declared Bob when she sought his opinion. “I’ve always wanted to. But I don’t intend to see the sights, altogether, Betty. I want to find my aunts, and then, if possible, I’d like to get a job. There must be plenty for a boy to do out here.”
“But you’ve been working all summer,” protested Betty. “You’re as thin as a rail now. I know Uncle Dick won’t let you go to work. Why, Bob, I counted on your going around with me! We can have such fun together.”
“Well, of course, there will be lots of odd hours,” Bob comforted her. “I don’t intend to borrow any more money, Betty, that’s flat. And if I don’t get my share in the farm, that is, if it proves my mother never had any sisters and never was entitled to a share of anything, I don’t intend to let that be the end of my ambitions. I’m going to school, if it takes an arm!”
Betty gazed at him respectfully. Bob, when in earnest, was a very convincing talker. She wondered for a moment what he would be when he grew up.
“We’re coming into Flame City,” he warned her before she could put this thought into words. “Tip your hat straight, Betsey, and take the camera. I can manage both bags.”
“Oh, I hope Uncle Dick will meet us!” Betty was so excited she bumped her nose against the glass trying to see out of the window. “Look, Bob, just see those derricks! This is surely an oil town!”
The brakes went down, and the brakeman at the end of the car flung the door open.
“Flame City!” he shouted. “All out for Flame City!”