"My, but he's a hustler!" said Owen. "We never meet him but that he is on the jump."
"He's a type of the successful business man of to-day," answered Dale. "Well, I shouldn't mind hustling myself if I saw such big money ahead as he makes."
Their train was not to leave for two hours, so they had ample time in which to make a few necessary purchases and get their trunks and valises to the depot. Each was tremendously excited over the prospect ahead, but tried to put on a calm appearance. It was certainly something to travel across the continent, through many States which they had never before visited.
"How some of the fellows at Oldtown and Bangor would stare if we told them we were bound for Oregon," said Dale.
"You're right. To come to Michigan was quite a trip, but this other will be more than twice as long."
It had been decided that they were to take a regular train to Chicago, and at that point change to one of the overland expresses, that stopped only at Omaha, Denver, and a few other points.
The train was fairly well filled, but they managed to get a seat together, and gazed out of the window with interest as they rushed westward, over the fertile fields of lower Michigan and upper Indiana. There was not much of novelty in the outlook, outside of the long, level stretches, to which their New England eyes were, as yet, unaccustomed.
"No wonder they can farm by machinery out here," said Owen. "They'd have a tough time of it using such a big reaper as that among the rocky hills where I was brought up."
The run to Chicago did not take long. Here a quick change, lasting less than ten minutes, was made, and soon the express was roaring along, past mile after mile of buildings, away from the outskirts of the metropolis of the Lakes, and straight for the broad prairies beyond. The two young young lumbermen leaned back in their seats and gazed at each other in silent satisfaction.
There was no turning back now. The long journey to Oregon was begun.