“That sounds like a Chamber of Commerce booklet,” laughed Dick.
“When knowledge is being disseminated, don’t interrupt,” said Sam severely.
“I say, Mr. Speaker, where did you capture that last word?” gurgled Cranny. “Don’t spring anythin’ like that again so suddenly or——”
The lad did not complete his sentence for the cars had rattled by and the impatient mustangs, like hounds unleashed, abruptly started off on their own accord.
At a rapid pace the seven clattered along. The houses became farther and farther apart until finally the last one was reached and left behind, and they saw stretching before them a broad undulating country.
Beneath a grove of cottonwoods by the side of the road they reined up.
“Hello!” exclaimed Cranny, looking behind. “There’s that little Mexican town.”
“So it is,” said Tom.
They could see a few twinkling lights, some apparently poised in space, and a darkish patch stretching across the Rio—the International bridge.
Half an hour later, now on the open prairie, the boys had halted once more. Their eyes were following a train on the railroad, which had its terminus at a rapidly growing settlement on the river about twenty-five miles away. They watched the tiny starlike points of light blinking from the car windows, now flashing into view, now blotted from sight, as intervening objects came between, with an interest born of the solitude and silence which surrounded them.