"The middle course."
"All right—D. and R.G."
Then more referring to maps and time-tables, more figuring, more glances at the pile of money.
"Let's see—that will land you at—at—" as he ran his finger down the tabulation—"at Colt, Colorado."
Danny moved along the counter to the glass-covered map, a new interest in his face.
"Where's that—Colt, Colorado?" he asked, leaning his elbows on the counter.
"See?" The other indicated with his pencil.
"You go south from Denver to Colorado Springs; then on through Pueblo, through the Royal Gorge here, and right in here—" he put the lead point down on the red line of the railroad and Danny's head came close to his—"is where you get off."
The boy gazed lingeringly at the white dot in the red line and then looked up to meet the other's smile.
"Mountains and more mountains," he said with no hint of lightness. "That's a long way from this place."