"Ever see the Chicago stock yards?" asked Mr. Post, as they pulled out of the last station before reaching the big city. "It's a sight worth looking at," and he went on as the three chums admitted they had not. "I may not get a chance to show 'em to you, but if you want to you can get out there with me, and look at 'em on your own hook. Then you can go into the city."
The lads decided this would be a good plan, and arranged to have their baggage go to a hotel where they were to stop over night. Mr. Post prevailed on the conductor to stop the train at a way station, close to the stock yards, and, when this was reached, he and the three boys alighted.
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and Mr. Post found he was a little ahead of time. He hired a two-seated carriage in which he and the boys drove to where he was to meet Mr. Liggins.
Soon after leaving the way station the boys were aware of a curious roaring sound that filled the air. It sounded like distant thunder.
"What is it?" asked Jack.
"It's the cattle in the stock yards," said Mr. Post. "There's thousands of 'em, and they keep that noise up all the while. Look ahead, and you can see some of the pens."
The boys looked. In a net work of railroad tracks they saw fenced-in yards that seemed filled with a living brown mass. From them came impatient bellows and a shuffling, stamping sound, that told of the movement of innumerable cows and steers.
"Drive over that way," said Mr. Post to the coachman. "That's where
Lem said he'd meet me."
They were now in the midst of the stock yards. The pens extended on every side, and the strong odor of the cattle, the noise and seeming confusion, the tooting of engine whistles, the puffing of locomotives, the movement of trains, and the wild notes of the imprisoned animals made a scene the boys never forgot.
"There's my man!" exclaimed Mr. Post. "Hello, Lem! I'm right on time!"