"Well, it is about the smoothest way I ever traveled!" declared the ranchman. "When we came East I thought that sleeping-car close to a moving palace; but this thing has the train beaten to a frazzle. You see I am used to jolting over rough roads in springless wagons, and it is something new to me to go along as if I was sliding down-hill on a velvet sofa-cushion."
Donald and his father heartily enjoyed the big fellow's pleasure.
As for Thornton, when the car came to a stop before the puffing Mortonstown mills it was with regret that he dragged himself from the seat. Still, he had the ride home in anticipation—that was a comforting thought.
Once within the mills, however, even the memory of the homeward journey faded from his mind. The vast buildings throbbing with the beat of engines, the click and whirr of bobbins, and the clash of machinery, blotted out everything else.
When they entered Mr. Munger, the manager, who was expecting them, came forward cordially.
"We were glad to hear by telephone that you were coming out to-day, Mr. Clark," he said. "Mr. Bailey, the president, is waiting to see you in his private office."
"Very well," answered Mr. Clark. "Now while I am talking with him I should greatly appreciate it if my son Donald, and my foreman, Mr. Thornton, might go over the works. They have never visited a woolen mill."
"We shall be delighted to show them about," answered Mr. Munger. "I will send some one with them."
Turning, the manager beckoned to a young man who was busy at a desk.
"This gentleman," continued he, "has been with us many years and will be able to answer all your questions. Take these visitors through the factory, Mac, show them everything, and bring them back here. Now if you are ready, Mr. Clark, we will join Mr. Bailey."