Mr. Ficklin was general superintendent of the line, and was constantly riding up and down. No person who passed by was better liked than Superintendent Ficklin. Mr. Russell was in Washington, but Mr. Majors appeared, once, stepping from the stage; and he had not forgotten Davy. “Your pardner, Billy Cody, almost met his end this winter, my lad,” he informed. “Did you hear about it?” “No, sir,” gasped Dave. “Well, he did. He was up in central Kansas on a trapping trip, and lost his oxen and broke his leg and had to be left alone in a dug-out while his companion went one hundred and twenty-five miles, afoot, to the nearest settlement for a team and supplies. Billy got snowed in, couldn’t move anyway, a gang of Indians plundered him and might have murdered him, and when, on the twenty-ninth day――nine days late――his friend finally arrived and yelled to him, Billy could scarcely answer. Even then the snow had to be dug away from the door. But he reached home safely and he’s getting along finely now. He’s plucky, is Billy――and so was his friend, Harrington.” “Maybe he won’t want to go out on the plains any more,” faltered Dave. “Who? Billy Cody?” And Mr. Majors laughed. “You wait till the grass begins to get green and the willow buds swell, and you’ll see Billy Cody right on deck, ready for business.” Back and forth, between Salt Lake and the Missouri River shuttled the stages of the Central Overland, California & Pike’s Peak Express. They seemed to be making money for the company, but rumors said that the company needed more money; in fact, the company were in a bad way. The expenses had been tremendous. The big coaches cost $1000 apiece――and there were fifty of them. The harness for each four-mule team was made in Concord, and it cost about $150. Then there were 10,000 tons of hay a year, at twenty to thirty dollars a ton; and 3,000,000 pounds of corn and another 3,000,000 pounds of grain, at several cents a pound; and 2000 mules at seventy-five dollars each; and the wages of the men――$100 a month and board for the division agents, $50 and $75 a month for the drivers, $50 a month for the station agents, and $40 a month for the hostlers who took care of the mules. But even under this expense it seemed as though the passenger fare of $125 to Denver and $200 to Salt Lake (meals extra at a dollar and a dollar and a half), and the heavy rates on express ought to bring the company a profit. Davy, trying to figure out the matter, hoped so. Of course, it was not his business, but a fellow likes to have his friends successful; and Dave looked upon Mr. Majors, and Mr. Russell, and Mr. Waddell as very good friends of his. He took a trip, once in a while, on the stage east with Wild Bill, or west with “Gentleman Bob,” on quartermaster’s affairs, to some of the stations. There always was room on the driver’s box, and generally Wild Bill or “Gentleman Bob” was glad to have him up there along with the messenger.