n from
locomotive to caboose, each fettered car in turn strained into motion
and slowly rolled over the bridge and into silence from the steam and
the bells of the railroad yard. Through the open windows of the caboose
great dull-red cinders rattled in, and the whistles of distant Union
Pacific locomotives sounded over the open plains ominous and long, like
ships at sea.

Honey and Lin sat for a while, making few observations and far between,
as their way is between whom flows a stream of old-time understanding.
Mutual whiskey and silence can express much friendship, and eloquently.

"What are yu' doing at present?" Lin inquired.

"Prospectin'."

Now prospecting means hunting gold, except to such spirits as the boy
Lin. To these it means finding gold. So Lin McLean listened to the talk
of his friend Honey Wiggin as the caboose trundled through the night. He
saw himself in a vision of the near future enter a bank and thump down
a bag of gold-dust. Then he saw the new, clean money the man would hand
him in exchange, bills with round zeroes half covered by being folded
over, and heavy, satisfactory gold pieces. And then he saw the blue
water that twinkles beneath Boston. His fingers came again on his trunk
check. He had his ticket, too. And as dawn now revealed the gray country
to him, his eye fell casually upon a mile-post: "Omaha, 876." He began
to watch for them:--877, 878. But the trunk would really get to Omaha.

"What are yu' laughin' about?" asked Honey.

"Oh, the wheels."

"Wheels?"

"Don't yu' hear 'em?" said Lin. "'Variety,' they keep a-sayin'.
'Variety, variety.'"

"Huh!" said Honey, with scorn. "'Ker-chunka-chunk' 's all I make it."

"You're no poet," observed Mr. McLean.

As the train moved into Evanston in the sunlight, a gleam of dismay shot
over Lin's face, and he ducked his head out of sight of the window, but
immediately raised it again. Then he leaned out, waving his arm with a
certain defiant vigor. But the bishop on the platform failed to notice
this performance, though it was done for his sole benefit, nor would Lin
explain to the inquisitive Wiggin what the matter was. Therefore, very
naturally, Honey drew a conclusion for himself, looked quickly out of
the window, and, being disappointed in what he expected to see remarked,
sulkily, "Do yu' figure I care what sort of a lookin' girl is stuck on
yu' in Evanston?" And upon this young Lin laughed so loudly that his
friend told him he had n