He was as interested as Glen knew he would be in the letter, and as he finished it he exclaimed:
"Well, you are in luck, my boy, and I'm glad of it! Here I am, without a father to my name, while you seem likely to have two. Well, you deserve a dozen; and if you had 'em, each one would be prouder of you than the other."
After a week spent in San Francisco, during which time the barber, tailor, and various outfitters made a marvellous change in Glen's personal appearance, he, together with General Elting and Binney Gibbs, boarded one of the great Pacific Mail Steamships for Panama. Mr. Hobart, "Billy" Brackett, and the other members of the second division, had decided to remain for a while on that coast, and most of them had already accepted positions on some of the various engineering works then in progress in California; but they were all at the steamer to see the homeward-bound travellers off. As the great wheels were set in motion, and the stately ship moved slowly from the wharf, the quieter spectators were startled by the tremendous farewell cheer that arose from the "campmates" who remained behind; and the cries of "good-bye, general! we'll be on hand whenever you want us again! Good-bye, Grip! Good-bye, Glen, old man! We won't forget the desert in a hurry! Good-bye!"
The run down the coast was a smooth and pleasant one; while the several Mexican and Central American ports at which they touched were full of interest and delightful novelty to the Brimfield boys. They thoroughly enjoyed crossing the Isthmus, and would gladly have lingered longer amid its wonderful tropic scenery. Not until they were on the Atlantic, however, and steaming northward, did they realize that they were fairly on their way home.
One day, as the two boys were sitting on deck, in company with General Elting, gazing at the coast of Cuba, which they were then passing, Binney Gibbs broke a long silence with the remark, "Doesn't it seem queer, Glen, to think that when you get home you will be just the age you were when you left it, and perhaps your name won't be 'Glen Eddy' after all?"
General Elting had not heard of Glen's letter from his adopted father, nor had he ever heard him called "Glen Eddy" before; and now he asked Binney what he meant by such a curious speech.
When it was explained, he sat silent for several minutes, looking at Glen with such a peculiar expression that the boy grew uneasy beneath the fixed gaze. Then, without a word, he rose and walked away, nor did they see him again for several hours. He talked much with Glen during the remainder of the voyage, and frequently puzzled him by his questions, and the interest he manifested in everything relating to his past life.
As he was going to St. Louis, he took the same train with the boys from New York; and, though he bade them good-bye as they neared Brimfield, he said that he hoped and expected to see them again very shortly.
How natural the place looked as the train rolled up to the little station, and how impossible it was to realize that they had crossed the continent and sailed on two oceans since leaving it!
"There's father!" shouted Glen and Binney at the same instant.