The proposition to construct a transcontinental railroad was particularly interesting. It was the plan of Mr. Seabury, chief of the Transportation department, to build the road in question from Co-opolis to Chicago by what he declared to be the only route which extended all the way through a productive country. This route was to parallel the Union Pacific to the Great Shoshone Falls, thence to Idaho Falls, thence veering slightly in a northerly direction to pass through the coal, iron, oil and cattle fields of Wyoming, thence entering the Black Hills region near the center, to proceed across the limestone foundation of that wonderful country, down Rapid Valley to Rapid City, across the divide to Box Elder Valley, down that fertile valley to the Cheyenne River, down Bad River to the Missouri, over the Missouri, and thence through South Dakota, Southern Minnesota and Wisconsin to Chicago. It was also proposed that this road should be extended to Seattle, on Puget Sound. The plan was considered sufficiently practicable to warrant the Legislative Council to instruct the Engineering department to run preliminary surveys along the proposed route as far as the Missouri River. This order was given in the early spring; I think the records will show that it was about April 10th. A month later there appeared at the Co-opolitan Hotel an elderly gentleman who registered as Lester Hickman, London, England. Mr. Hickman appeared to be merely an English tourist. He did not, at first, make special efforts to get acquainted, but neither did he display any aversion to talking with other guests or citizens who might come in his vicinity. There was nothing about him to particularly attract attention, except that his face was very pale, his hair white, and his eyes were very gray. Perhaps they would have been very white, too, if that had been possible for keen, observing eyes. Mr. Hickman’s clothes fitted him perfectly and his style of dress indicated the neat and modest gentleman. He looked the picture of scholarly innocence and spotless purity. In passing through the hotel I had noticed him several times during the week, and I had seen him on the street several times, but never felt any special curiosity as to who he might be. One day I was in my office when the young man who acted as my messenger and office attendant handed me a card, upon which was the name Lester Hickman. The attendant said the gentleman was in the anteroom and would be glad to speak with me if I was at leisure. I was at leisure and told him to show the gentleman in. “Good afternoon, sir,” said the old gentleman as he entered the door, smiling and bowing good-naturedly. He had the air of a man whose business could not be very weighty, but whose motives were invariably humane. He was as white as an angel. “Good afternoon,” I returned. “Your name, I see, is Mr. Lester Hickman. I have noticed you several times about the city. What can I do for you?”