END OF BOOK ONE
CHAPTER ONE
Effingham
"I'll take that change now," whispered the porter, nudging Wyeth, as he lay trying to sleep, as the train roared westward toward Effingham, the iron city, and greatest industrial southern center.
Raising up, he reached in his pocket while yet half asleep, and handed the porter two dollars. "I paid fifty cents for the ticket to Spruceville, as you know, and the charge was to be two fifty?" The other nodded, and pocketing the money, he melted away noiselessly.
A few hours later, Wyeth raised the shade and peered out. The train was flying through a valley, that spread away from either side of the single track, smooth and unobstructed, except for comfortable farm homes, set back from the roads. He looked back in the seat behind him, observed young Hatfield, whom he was bringing with him, dozing peacefully. Then he looked toward the front of the car for the first time, and observed another with whom he had become acquainted in Attalia. He had never learned his name, in fact, he had never inquired it; but, since the other possessed such long legs, and was tall and good-natured into the bargain, he had called him Legs, which had brought no objection on the part of the other. And it is by that name we shall follow him in this story.