The companions walked along the busy street, which to John's amazement was paved with stone blocks, the sidewalks being covered with bricks and flags. As he saw the crowds of people he thought there must be some sort of a celebration going on. In front of a saloon a number of men were gathered, and among them Jimmy recognized some friends. John, however, was not content to stand and listen to long discussions as to the best routes to travel, the most likely places where "hand-outs" might be had, and all the rest of the talk that tramps indulge in; so he started off on his own hook on a tour of discovery. "Don't get lost, kid," Jimmy shouted, as the boy went off.
All his life he had been accustomed to almost unlimited space, to nearly perfect quiet, except the noise of the elements, the voices of wild things and of the few human beings. All at once he was thrown into the midst of a bustling Western city, packed solid with business buildings and dwellings, the surface of the earth shod with iron and stone, the very sky stained with smoke, and the air filled with the roar of traffic, the whistle of locomotives, the clang of the electric-car bells, and the shouts of street hucksters. He was almost stupefied with wonder. Then natural boyish curiosity took possession of him, and he began to notice things separately and in detail. He walked along with eyes, ears, and mouth wide open; his head turning constantly as some strange object caught his gaze. The frequent big "saloon" sign did not surprise him, nor did the "Licensed Gambling House" placard cause him to wonder; he knew them of yore, they were all a matter of course to a Western boy. But when he came to a building six or seven stories high he stopped short in the human tide, like a spile in a rushing stream, and stood with mouth agape in amazement. The plate-glass windows and the gay display behind them, the brilliant signs and elaborate decorations delighted him.
He was walking along slowly, when he caught sight of the most wonderful "outfit" he had ever seen, and stood still in his tracks to take it in. It was a closed carriage with a fine big pair of horses whose trappings were decorated in bright silver. His fresh young eyes took these details in at once, but what caused him to stare was the big man on the box. Perfectly motionless, a stony stare on his smoothly shaven face, John wondered if he was made of wood. His whip, held at just the proper angle in heavy tan gloves, white trousers painfully tight, high top boots, and green coat shining with brass buttons, the whole get-up topped by a big, shining silk hat. For several minutes he watched him, but not a sign of life did he betray. Then a woman, richly dressed, came out of a nearby store and entered the carriage, saying as she did so, "Drive home, James." The dummy made a motion with his hand toward his hat, flicked the whip over the horses' flanks, and the carriage moved off.
John's awesome gaze gave way to a laugh: "Why, he isn't an English lord," he said to himself, "he's only a teamster," and he laughed again.
A boy with a package stopped to look at him. "Whatcher laughin' at?" said he.
"Didn't you see that outfit?" said the other, between chuckles.
"Mean the kerrige?" John nodded. "That's Fleischman's rig. Never seen one before?"
"I've seen 'em in pictures, but I never thought they were true," and John laughed again. "I suppose people do go down to dinner at six o'clock as I've read they do," he said at last, a puzzle that had long baffled him clearing away.
"Sure. Whatjer think they did, go up to dinner?" returned the other boy scornfully.
"Why, I didn't see how they could go down 'less they ate in a cellar," said John in explanation. "Who ever heard of people eating dinner at night, anyway?"