Page:Bob Chester's Grit.djvu/72

60 money, and shoved it through the opening in the window.

"Correct," muttered the agent, as he counted the roll of bills. "Now hurry, or you won't get your train."

As Bob received the amazingly long ticket, his breast swelled with pride. Its possession meant the beginning of his long-cherished dream, and he started to study it, when the voice of the officer warned him:

"Come this way, kid. Go through gate No. 3. You can read your ticket when you get on the train; you'll have time enough before you reach Chicago. Good luck on your ranch," he added in a kindly banter.

But Bob had no time to reply, for the trainmen were already shouting their "All aboard for Chicago," and it was only by running down the platform that he was able to get on a car just as the wheels began to move.

The car in which Bob found himself was upholstered in dark green, and the woodwork was of polished mahogany. Never had he seen anything so magnificent, and as he sank into a highback seat, he uttered a sigh of contentment.

But he was not allowed to enjoy his luxury long.

While he was gazing with wide-staring eyes at everything about him, a colored porter entered