"Is this true?" asked Manson, in a tone of unpleasant surprise.
"Yes, sir. I am here now by Mr. Bradford's appointment."
The book-keeper's countenance fell. Where now was his triumph? As the post of office-boy was the lowest in the establishment, it was clear Paul had been promoted, and the book-keeper would no longer have the satisfaction of ordering him about or giving him annoyance.
CHAPTER XXXII.
JIM SCOTT.
By advice of Mr. Bradford, Paul selected the Chicago, Rock Island, Pacific route to Omaha, where he took passage on the Union Pacific road as far as Cheyenne, in the southern part of Wyoming, known as the "Magic City of the Plains." He was very much interested in what he saw from the car windows as he rolled over the prairies of Illinois and the fertile plains of Iowa. He gazed eagerly at the Mississippi River, of which he had heard so much, and was somewhat disappointed to find it so narrow at the point of crossing.
On again from Omaha, five hundred miles and over, till the train halted at Cheyenne, and he got out at the station.
As he stood on the platform, while the train went on, he was accosted by a roughly dressed man, who might be a miner to judge from his slouch hat, his loose-fitting clothes, and his long and rather ragged-looking beard, which seemed a stranger both to razor and scissors.