“Dad is certainly going to jump on me,” remarked Cranny Beaumont, to the slight lad.
“He’ll have to jump pretty high, then,” said the other.
“So the Major is at the inn?” said Dave. “Well, he’ll soon have the pleasure of meeting your father, Cranny.”
The big lad made no response. He wasn’t in a very happy frame of mind, for he had honestly intended to make a splendid showing of the Border City business.
In front of the terminal were congregated the usual crowd of people whose chief enjoyment in life seemed to be in watching the arrival and departure of trains. Guests of the Carroll Inn as well as those from the “Black Bear” and “Cattlemen’s Retreat” arrived. A little later, the leading art connoisseur and old Si Peterson wandered up, to lend their presence to the gathering.
Cranny was watching the train. It didn’t look like an ordinary train to him; it seemed to typify the approach of fate. The shrieking whistle, which again rolled over the prairie, smote harshly upon his ears, as though it mocked his failure and carried with it the extinguishment of all hope for a further stay in Wyoming.
“Well, I can’t help it now,” murmured Cranny, “but if I only had another week——”
“Gee, Cran; won’t it be great to see your father?” cried Willie, breaking in upon his thoughts.
In a moment more, the big locomotive rumbled beneath the train shed.
The reception committee, including the art connoisseur and old Si Peterson, did not intend to miss a single thing which might furnish an entertaining topic upon which to wile away an hour or two. They saw upon the platform of the third car two gentlemen ready to alight, and also the crowd of boys making a rush toward them.