"To--to--well, to Chicago."

The man looked suspiciously at Rupert, and then turned to a card hanging
on the wall.

"Twenty-eight-fifty," he said.

Two of the gold pieces were shoved under the glass, and Rupert received
his ticket and his change.

In the car, he secured a seat near the window that he might see the
country. It was the same familiar mountains and streams all that day,
but the next morning when he awoke and looked out of the car windows, a
strange sight met his gaze. In every direction, as far as he could see,
stretched the level prairie, over which the train sped in straight lines
for miles and miles. "We must be in Kansas," he thought. "What a sight,
to see so much level land."

But what was he going to do in Chicago? To see the world, to mingle in
the crowd, to jostle with his fellow-beings--what else, he did not know.

Chicago! What a sight to the man of the mountains! Streets, houses,
people and the continuous din and traffic of the city nearly turned his
head for a time. What an ideal place in which to lose one's self. Rupert
had a bundle no longer, but in his pocket just fifteen dollars and ten
cents. He kept well out of the clutches of the sharpers in the city,
and lived quite comfortably for a week, seeing the sights of the
wonderful city. Then, when his money was getting low, he tried to get
work, as he wished to remain longer. But Rupert was a farmer, and they
were not in demand within the city limits. Outside the city, Rupert fell