“Up and coming. Pop goes the weasel, at Benton. Benton? Lord love you! They say it’s got Cheyenne and Laramie backed up a tree, the best days they ever seen. When you step off at Benton step lively and keep an eye in the back of your head. There’s money to be made at Benton, by the wise ones. Watch out for ropers and if you get onto a system, play it. There ain’t any limit to money or suckers.”
“I may not qualify as to money,” I informed. “But I trust that I am no sucker.”
“No green in the eye, eh?” he approved. “Anyhow, you have a good lead if your friend in black cottons to you.” Again he winked. “You’re not a bad-looking young feller.” He leaned over the side steps, and gazed ahead. “Sidney in sight. Be there directly. We’re hitting twenty miles and better through the greatest country on earth. The engineer smells breakfast.”
CHAPTER III
I RISE IN FAVOR
With that he went forward. So did I; but the barricade at the end of My Lady’s seat was intact, and I sat down in my own seat, to keep expectant eye upon her profile—a decided relief amidst that crude mélange of people in various stages of hasty dressing after a night of cramped postures.
The brakeman’s words, although mysterious in part, had concluded reassuringly. My Lady, he said, would prove a valuable friend in Benton. A friend at hand means a great deal to any young man, stranger in a strange land.
The conductor came back—a new conductor; stooped familiarly over the barricade and evidently exchanged pleasantries with her.