[CHAPTER IV]
ON THE WAY
The train carrying Whitey and his father sped across the continent at an average speed of perhaps fifty miles an hour, but it seemed to Whitey that it crawled along at a snail's pace after it had crossed the Mississippi. The first day, and most of the second, were novelties; new scenes presented themselves continually and Whitey kept his face glued to the window. But after that the monotony of the thing became tiresome even to so wide-awake a boy as Whitey.
Of course, as they came into the great prairies and away from "civilization," the chance of encountering train-robbers lent an added zest to things; but as time went on and no train-robbers appeared, Whitey gradually came to the conclusion that the train-robbing business was not all it had been cracked up to be, and that maybe the Daltons and the James Boys and the rest of the bandits had retired. Which, perhaps, was fortunate for them, as it will be remembered that Whitey had the pearl-handled .22 in his hip-pocket! He should worry about train-robbers!
Whitey was completely staggered at the size of his own country. He had no idea it was so large; distances, on the map, had seemed insignificant, but when traveled, became prodigious. And long before he got to his destination Whitey had come to the conclusion that this is the greatest country on earth—as indeed it is!
Mr. Sherwood told him the story of the foreigner who started from New York for San Francisco. When the train got to Chicago, the foreigner asked of the porter, "Aren't we there yet?"
"Nossah," said the porter, "not yet!"
Every morning, for three mornings, he asked the same question, and received the same answer.
When they finally got to San Francisco, after about five days, the foreigner said, "They make an awful fuss about Columbus having discovered America—I don't see how he could have missed it!"