could provide, and had them stowed away in big hampers and put in the
baggage-car. When the train stopped an hour for food, which it did
three times a day, we preferred to spend that hour looking about us and
(as Mr. Kasson said) stretching our legs rather than going into the
overcrowded eating-rooms, which were reeking of food, loud talk, and
ravenous passengers. The stations were always low wooden buildings with
a piazza; sometimes no other houses were to be seen. On wooden boxes
were enthroned the loafers, who must have ridden miles just to see
passengers get in and out of the train. To show how kind these rough
people must be when they are not engaged in killing people, chickens
foraged about between their huge boots, and I saw a dog quietly asleep
within an inch of a kick. As soon as the train started we went into the
baggage-car and, seated about on the trunks, enjoyed our delicious
feast.

We occupied almost one entire parlor-car. There were only two extra
seats, and those were filled by two men surrounded by a mountain of
newspapers and magazines of all kinds. I said, nodding toward one of
these, "What a handsome man that is!"

"Do you know who it is?" asked Mr. Cadwalader.

"No. How should I?"

"That is the famous scout, Buffalo Bill."

"Really!" I exclaimed. "I had fancied him quite different from that. He
looks like the pictures of Charles the First. His eyes are so soft, and
he has such lovely brown curls and a could-not-hurt-a-fly look about
him."