ushed to the dining
saloon and was back as he spoke with two empty bottles. "Bill's" train
was just going to move, already making groaning noises. He put his hand
under his coat in a leisurely way and pulled out his "gun" (you can be
arrested immediately for wearing one concealed)! Then his train gave a
snort and got slowly in motion, so he was obliged to run. He turned his
head over his shoulders and looked back as Nelson flung one bottle in
the air--bang! It went into atoms on the ground, and then, as he had
almost reached the steps, running at full speed now, the Senator flung
the other. It was high up, the most difficult shot even facing it, but
tearing as fast as one could in the opposite direction to jump on to a
moving train, it was a rather remarkable feat to be able to hit it, with
just a glance backwards, wasn't it, Mamma?! And no wonder people don't
care to "run up against him!" As the scraps of the bottle fell, he
bounded on the steps and was dragged in by his companions, while with
cheers from both trains and waving of hats we steamed our different
ways. Tom was transported with admiration. How those things please
English men, don't they? And I am sure he thought far more of
"Ruby-Mine-Bill" than all the clever people we had met in New York. And
certainly skill of this sort does affect one. The Senator can shoot like
that. Nelson told us. "He's had some near squeaks in his life and come
off top; and everyone in this country knows him."

The land along which we were passing, and indeed what has been ever
since we entered the mining country, is the most bleak and desolate on
the earth, I should think; not a living thing or blade of grass except
once when we passed a stream where low bushes bordered it; only barren
hills with a little scrub on them and a rough stony surface. What
courage to have started exploring on such places!

We passed one or two smaller camps on the way to Osages, with board
shanties and a shaft here and there sticking up from the earth. "All
going on," the Senator said. I can't tell you, Mamma, the fun we had
in the car; the party is so harmonious, and Nelson and the friend such
amusing people to keep it going. The friend is too attractive, that long
lean shape like Tom, and the same assurance of manner. Octavia says she
has not enjoyed herself so much for years.

Towards evening we arrived at Osages, and a most wonderful wind-swept
town it is. Imagine a bare plain of rubbly, stony gro