As soon as the train was out of the way Hiram came rushing over to me.
"Ben, old man, you look good to me!" he exclaimed. "I'm getting away with it; haven't made a bull yet. Excuse me a little bit until I take this mail over, then I'm through." Thus he greeted me, enthusiastic and confident, then rushed away with the small mail bag to Morgan's store and the post office.
While awaiting his return I examined a two-wheeled baggage truck he had left standing after being loaded from the train. This contained an old trunk fastened with a clothes line, a bunch of bananas, some castings for a cotton gin, three boxes of chill-and-fever remedy, and five cases of dynamite.
As Strong hurried across the street his eyes shone with anticipation from under the visor of a cheap cap that had replaced the jaunty derby.
"Say, how do you like my new station? All the white people here are mighty nice," said he, pushing the truck toward the depot.
I nodded approval and helped him to push the load up a steep incline into the freight house adjoining the ticket office.
"Do you get much of that stuff?" I asked, pointing to the dynamite.
"Yes—the quarry uses quite a bit, but it usually comes by freight and I don't have to handle it," he said, locking the door and leading the way to the ticket and telegraph office, located in a small bay-windowed room facing the track. We walked through a dingy waiting-room, in the center of which stood a wooden box, half filled with sand, which stood permanent duty as a cuspidor.
"You see, there is no hotel here, and Mr. Morgan has kindly taken me to board with him. The night man stays there also. Sunday is such a busy day, especially for freights, that I can't leave for my dinner, so they send it over to me. They'll send enough for two to-day. You won't mind, will you?"
Before I could reply the dispatcher called him and he began taking a train order while I sat down upon the one remaining sixty-nine-cent chair.