“Some onions and some fried potatoes and pie first, I reckon,” replied the boy. “Then some ammernition. Then maybe I’d get my hair cut. I had orter have some new pants. I mean ef I had any money.” “And then a shave?” The boy blushed red. “I reckon I can get shaves if I pay the man,” said he, “and I reckon I am going to have plenty of money afore long. What’re you going to do?” “Fust thing I am going to do when I get to town,” replied Len, “I am going to get a drink.” “Then what?” His companion gazed in deep thought. “Then I think I’ll get another drink. Fur as I can see now, that’s about how I’m going to perceed. Of course, I may take both drinks at oncet. I can take other things under advisement, as the justice of the peace said. Maybe I would buy me a new pair pants; maybe I’d work around to the barber atter a while. When I got fixed up I might go and see what kind o’ dancin’ was in this town. Oh, yes! I did fergit about my shirt. I may buy me a shirt—ef there’s any kind of monte played in Aberlene.” They both saw approaching across the prairies to the eastward a low-lying cloud of smoke. It was the first railroad train either of them had ever seen. They became very much excited. “Look at her come!” said Cinquo. “Bet I ain’t skeered to ride on that thing! Now you see!” “You’re a long ways off when you say it!” scoffed Len Hersey. “She’s goin’ to look a heap bigger and dangerouser, clost up. I bet we’d have to blindfold you and put two ropes on you afore we could put you on that there train, and then you’d be so skeered you’d shake your spurs off.” “I ain’t got no more shakes than what you have,” said the boy. “You ain’t saw any more railroad kyars than what I have. But I don’t reckon I’ll go to town untel we sell our cows.” “Nor me,” nodded Len. “But did you ever see such a town like this here one, now? They don’t savvy dobe none, it seems like; they don’t dry no mud; they just cut slabs of grass roots and build ’em up into a house, and put on a dirt roof. I looked inside of one as I rid by. It was lined with red caliker, walls and ceilings; no gypsum to white it up, nor nothing. Yet humans was livin’ in it. They live in them dugouts, too—just push a hole back into a bank an’ crawl in atter the hole like badgers. An’ there ain’t no trees; an’ when they do have trees, hain’t no moss on ’em. I ain’t saw a cactus nowheres, an’ as fer mesquite, I’m a notion to ride into one o’ these plum thickets an’ stick some plum thorns in my laigs, so’s’t a feller kin feel more nache’l.” Meantime the continuous shriek of the locomotive whistle had brought to the station practically the entire population of the city of Abilene. It was a great day—a trail herd and a railroad train all in one day.