They were only two, and one from the driver’s box. The two plainly enough were Easterners. The first was a rather young man, with a thin sandy beard and a soft slouch hat; the second was a stoutish, elderly man, with a round rosy face and a fringe of white whiskers under his chin. He wore a rather dingy whitish coat; the younger man wore a regulation duster. They both gazed about them alertly before entering the hotel. “Hello, Bill,” nodded the stage driver, descending, after tossing his lines to the hostler from the stage stable――for Junction City was Station Number Seven on the stage route. “Who’s yore load, Tom?” queried somebody. “That old fellow in the white coat, he’s Horace Greeley. Other fellow’s named Richardson――Albert D. Richardson.” “Where they from?” “N’ York, I reckon.” “Where they going?” “Out to the diggin’s.” “What line they in?” “Newspaper fellows of some sort, I hear tell. Anyhow, they ask a heap of questions. That old chap in the white coat he’s been speech-makin’ all through Kansas. As I understand it, he an’ that young fellow are goin’ out to the mines to write up the country, so the people of the East’ll know what’s true an’ what ain’t.” And Tom the driver walked on into the hotel to wash and eat. “Seems to me I’ve heard of Horace Greeley,” mused Wild Bill. “He’s quite a man.” “Sure. He’s editor of the New York _Tribune_,” asserted a man who had not spoken before. “He’s the biggest man on the biggest paper in the States, and what he says will influence the people more than a stage-load of gold. Richardson’s a newspaper man, too; and another reporter, named Henry Villard, of Cincinnati, is out at the diggin’s now. But Greeley’s the biggest of the lot. They say only one printer in his office can read his writing; but the old man has come out here to get the truth, and if he tells the people to ‘go West’ they’ll go.” “That,” quoth Wild Bill emphatically, “is the best thing that’s ever happened to this country. But it seems to me it’s a lot of trouble for a man to take. Do you reckon he’s going to start a paper out thar at Cherry Creek?” “No, sir! They say Horace Greeley is wedded to two things: his New York _Tribune_ and his old white coat.” “Well, if he makes any speech here to-night I’m going to hear him,” said Wild Bill. Horace Greeley did make a speech to citizens and emigrants, in a partly-finished stone church. He talked on “Republicanism.” But Dave and Billy and Hi and Jim and “Left-over” were too tired to go and hear him; and so were the majority of the “pilgrims.” The Reverend Mr. Baxter went in and reported that it was very good for those who agreed with it. Bearing Horace Greeley and Journalist Richardson, the stage continued westward in the morning. So did the Hee-Haw Express. X “PIKE’S PEAK OR BUST!”