But Bob had not waited to hear the comment upon his lack of equipment, and, before the words had left the mouth of the boatman, was running up the gangway and into the station.
The glare of the lights after the darkness of the river and the many people scurrying to and fro, together with the porters and trainmen calling and shouting, bewildered the lad who had never been so far away from home before, and he stood in the middle of the station as though dazed.
Noticing the woe-begone figure, the station policeman walked over to where Bob was standing.
"What's the matter, kid? Looking for some one?"
"No. I'm going away, to Chicago. I wish you'd tell me where to go to get a chair car."
"Not running away from home, are you?" inquired the official, scanning Bob's face searchingly.
This constant suggestion that he was running away angered the boy, and he determined to put an end to it.
"No, I'm not," he retorted impatiently. "I'm going out West to become a ranchman, though I don't see why it is any of your business. The man on the boat told me I would have to hurry if I was going to catch my train."
"Got any money?" inquired the policeman, ignoring the boy's manner.
"Surely." And Bob drew forth the precious ten dollars he had managed to save from the pittance his guardian had paid him and all that remained from the money the magistrate had given him.