We had no reason to regret the sacrifice of our slices of ham, for when the train stopped at the eating-station next morning we received from the occupants of the smoking-car alone sixteen invitations to breakfast, and if we could have eaten them I believe we might have had sixty, for by this time the passengers in the other cars, most of whom had been unaware that anything unusual had happened during the night, had been told the story, and once more we were overwhelmed with thanks and questions and handshakings.
We were still at breakfast when the conductor came in with a telegram in his hand; it was a message from the Superintendent instructing him to carry us on our journey as far as we wished to go, and to see that we were well fed all the way at the expense of the company; adding, also, his personal thanks for our service.
This assurance of a free ride to Ogden, together with the frequently expressed gratitude and the complimentary remarks of the passengers was a very acceptable outcome of the night’s adventure. There was one other consequence of the episode, however, which was less gratifying: the newspaper interviewers sought us out. They wanted to know all about us; our names, where we came from, whither we were going, what we intended to do when we arrived there, and the why and the wherefore of everything. Though we avoided as much as possible making any explicit reply to these questions, we nevertheless found ourselves once more figuring in the newspapers, with a full description of our personal appearance and as many details of our private history as these gentlemen could gather or guess at,—much to our discomfort; for we were apprehensive lest somebody, seeing this report, might connect it with the paragraph in the Philadelphia paper, with the result that we might find a policeman waiting for us at one of the stopping-places.
This harassing idea deprived us of much of the pleasure we should otherwise have taken in our ride; even our delight at the first sight of the mountains—and what a glorious sight that is!—was marred by it. Seemingly, however, our fears were groundless; at any rate, no policeman had as yet put in an appearance when, by examining a railroad map, we saw that our journey was nearly ended.
“We shall be in Ogden in an hour,” said Percy, folding up the map.
But Percy was wrong. Instead of an hour it was a large part of a year before we arrived at Ogden; and the course we took to get there led us over more than a thousand miles of mountainous country, and through scenes such as do not often fall within the experience of a schoolboy.
CHAPTER V
JACK; AND WHAT HE HAD TO SAY
AT one of the little stations at which we stopped, a man boarded the train, and taking a seat opposite at once fell into conversation with us. He appeared to be familiar with the country round about, and, on our mentioning our intention of walking to Golconda, where Percy’s uncle and cousin lived, he told us all about the place and how to get to it; informing us that by continuing our journey as far as Ogden we should only be going out of our way, for if we should alight instead at the next station we might save some fifteen miles of unnecessary walking. As Percy and I had no object in visiting Ogden but to leave it again as soon as possible, we decided to follow our adviser’s counsel, and stepping from the train accordingly, we set off on foot along a waggon-trail which led away in the direction of the hills.