That was the place chosen by Mr. Duff and Mr. Corwith, the other civilian guest.
“So you’re out to see the country, too, are you?” queried Mr. Duff, genially. “What are you? Track inspector in advance?”
“I don’t know,” Terry admitted, a little uneasy in his faded old clothes. But clothes seemed to make no difference. “General Dodge said I could be his ‘striker’—that means help around his tent, and General Rawlins’ tent.”
“Heat the water for the bath, eh?” laughed Mr. Corwith.
“Shucks! No, Corwith! Nobody bathes on a trip like this,” retorted Mr. Duff. “Not unless we come to some hot springs. After a while the water’ll be as cold as ice—right out of the snows. Isn’t that so, Terry? Where’s your home town?”
“U. P. boarding-train, end o’ track,” promptly replied Terry. “It’s a traveling town,” he explained.
“I should say so. Ever been out much farther in this country?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve ridden on the stage part way to Salt Lake.”
“That must have been a great trip. But think of riding by railroad there! Whew! The stage took about ten days, didn’t it? And the railroad’ll do it in three! I was out to end o’ track last fall—on that big excursion from the East and Omaha. We started to go to the Hundreth Meridian, or 247 miles from Omaha; but you fellows built so fast that we kept going till we were thirty miles beyond.”
“Yes, sir. They all laid 260 miles of track in eight months, last year. This year General Dodge and General Casement want us to do 290, about. That’ll take us over the top of the Black Hills mountains.”