"You get a pass! Say, are you crazy? Only the general managers and the other high officers travel on passes."
"But Mr. Perkins told me to come here," asserted Bob.
To what lengths this determination of the office-boy to get rid of Bob would have gone there is no knowing, for the official whose desk was nearest the railing in front of which Bob stood had been attracted by the unusual occurrence, and as he heard Mr. Perkins' name spoken, he got up, and beckoning to Bob, asked:
"What did you say about Mr. Perkins?"
"I said he told me to come here to get a pass to Fairfax, Oklahoma. That is, he didn't say Fairfax," added Bob truthfully, "he just said I was to get it to any place in Oklahoma where I wanted to go, and I have decided I want to go to Fairfax."
"What is your name?"
"Bob Chester."
"Well, Mr. Perkins has sent us no instructions for issuing you a pass, and until he does, we cannot do anything for you."
And turning on his heel the man walked back to his desk, while the office-boy grinned in delight.
Bob, however, was not to be disposed of so easily, and putting his hand in his pocket, he drew out the card given him by the railroad president, and said: