tered to build west from Chicago. It was sorely in need of a
young, vigorous, and experienced man, and Colonel Jewett's ability was
not long in finding recognition. Step by step he climbed the ladder
until he reached the General Managership. Here his real work began. Here
he had some say, and could talk directly to the President, who was one
of the chief owners. He soon convinced the company that to succeed they
must have more money, build more, and make business by encouraging
settlers to go out and plough and plant and reap and ship. The United
States government was aiding in the construction of a railway across the
"desert," as the West beyond the Missouri River was then called. Jewett
urged his company to push out to the Missouri River and connect with the
line to the Pacific, and they pushed.

Ten years from the close of the war Colonel Jewett was at the head of
one of the most promising railroads in the country. Prosperity followed
peace, the West began to build up, the Pacific Railroad was completed,
and the little Galena line, with a new charter and a new name, had
become an important link connecting the Atlantic and the Pacific.

For nearly half a century Jewett has been at the front, and has never
been defeated. The discredited captain of that promising company of
car-boys has become one of our great "captains of industry." He is
to-day President of one of the most important railroads in the world,
whose black fliers race out nightly over twin paths of steel, threading
their way in and out of not less than nine states, with nearly nine
thousand miles of main line. He has succeeded beyond his wildest dreams;
and his success is due largely to the fact that when, in his youth, he
mounted to ride to fame and fortune, he did not allow the first jolt to
jar him from the saddle. He is made of the stuff that stands.

THE MILWAUKEE RUN

Henry Hautman was born old. He had the face and figure of a voter at
fifteen. His skin did not fit his face,--it wrinkled and resembled a
piece of rawhide that had been left out in the rain and sun.

Henry's father was a freighter on the Santa Fe trail when Independence
was the back door of civilization, opening on a wilderness. Little Henry
used to ride on the high seat with his father, close up to the tail of a
Missouri mule, the seventh of a series of eight, including the trailer
which his father drove in front of the big wagon. It was the wind of the
west that tanned the