“That’s so!” cried Sam. “Hooray for the——”
“Rambler Club’s aeroplane!” chorused the others, in lusty tones.
CHAPTER VI
BORDER CITY ONCE MORE
The observation car of the Pullman train speeding swiftly across the state of Wyoming had perhaps never held a livelier crowd than the Ramblers and their friends. All but Tom Clifton and Willie Sloan seemed bubbling over with good spirits, and were perfectly willing that every one in the car should know it.
Tommy, however, feeling that exhibitions of mirth and glee were hardly dignified in one who had so nearly reached the stupendous height of six feet, only occasionally forgot himself sufficiently to join in their merry laughter. During the trip the look of discontent had often vanished from Willie’s face. He opened his eyes in wonderment as the train lumbered up steep grades and across magnificent mountain ranges.
The ever-changing views of rugged, gigantic heights, of masses of bald rocks and forest-clad slopes, of cascades and rushing torrents fiercely foaming and lashing their way between barriers which sometimes approached the tracks, even awakened within Willie a feeling of enthusiasm. But he said very little, and sat back in his seat sedately when there was nothing particularly awe-inspiring to be seen.
The wonderful mountain views were finally left behind, and the heavy, labored puffing of the locomotive resolved itself into swift pulsating notes as more level stretches of track were reached. Between low-lying hills, their long undulating summits dropping nearer and nearer to the plain, the Ramblers were carried, until the train shot through an opening in the final range and out upon a great stretch of loam-covered prairie.
There were but few passengers on the car, and the boys changed from side to side, or walked about to suit their pleasure. Eagerness showed in their bright expression and voices as the miles were dropped behind, each instant bringing them nearer to Border City.
“I can hardly believe it’s true,” said Cranny, hilariously. “Isn’t it great, Willie? Just think—say, what you are staring at so hard, eh?”
“I was just wondering if Mr. Clifton uses hair varnish,” piped Willie. “Hasn’t he got the glossiest mop ever! Did you shave this morning, Mr. Clifton?”