And a jolly time they had, talking, playing cards, building air-castles, and discussing farm problems, in the latter of which Mr. Hopkins joined and gave them much valuable advice.
After the second day of riding through endless acres of land upon which the wheat was just sprouting, the novelty wore away, giving place to that feeling of monotony which the undulating plains bring to Easterners.
“I should like to see a mountain or even a hill,’ exclaimed Ted, petulantly.
“Mountains! You Easterners don’t know what mountains are,” returned Mr. Hopkins. “Just wait until you see the Rockies. You’ll think your little mountains are hills.”
“Well, I’d like to see them, just the same. They are better than these everlasting plains.”
“A bit homesick, eh? Just remember that if it weren’t for these plains, there wouldn’t be enough grain in the country to supply the congested East with flour and things, making the cost of living still higher.”
“I didn’t mean to be disagreeable, Mr. Hopkins, but we’ve had nothing but plains for forty-eight hours. I’d like to see something new, or have something happen.” And getting up, the boy strolled restlessly down the car, pausing to say a word to his new acquaintances, finally, the desire for a change still upon him, passing into the next car.
Though this was also a tourist coach, Ted quickly noticed the occupants were anything but prepossessing, and he was thanking his stars that Phil and he were located in the other car when a man spoke to him.
“Sit down and talk to me,” he commanded. “I’m pretty nigh ‘loco’ for the want of some one to swap words with, but there ain’t no one in here I’d speak to.”
The man himself was not a person one would have selected as a travelling companion, being badly in need of a shave and clad in clothes none too clean. But despite his dislike of the fellow, Ted remembered his criticism of Phil’s snobbishness and dropped into the seat.