The only sight-seeing I accomplished in Indianapolis came in a long walk I took past the freight yards, at the end of which I came to a tomato ketchup factory, where, for two hours, I watched a carload of ripe and otherwise tomatoes unloaded in barrows and carted into the store vats. Then I hurried back to the stables, for a sale was due for late afternoon, and my heart was centred entirely upon the hope of securing the ride to New York City. Guided by the snap of whips and the strident calls of the auctioneer, I entered a dim vault of a place, where the sale was in progress. After the glare of the sun had worn itself out of my eyes, I found myself on the outer edge of a large group of horse-dealers, watching the animals put through their paces and holding up fingers to the auctioneer. After the sales had been concluded, I approached a cubby-hole, which was filled with stale tobacco smoke through which I had a view of lithographs of race horses. The manager of the stables sat at his desk, apparently not busy, but eloquent in cigar smoke over the sales he had made that day. He had a blown, raw face, as red as his sunset shirt bosom and dotted with unshaved blotches of bristles. His thin nose had been turned aside by a blow of some sort, his mild blue eyes might not have been out of place in a woman’s head. However, on seeing me hesitate, and probably knowing from my abject, petitioning manner, that I was after some favor, he flavored the air with an oath and tacked on an impatient demand as to my wants. I thereupon unfolded what was in my heart, and in the nervousness of the moment, instead of handing him Gloomer’s letter of introduction, gave him, instead, my pocket comb. Then I thought he would horse-whip me, but, instead, he laughed, and said: “Well, you’re a thoroughbred, ain’t ye! What’s this?” I thereupon exchanged the comb for the letter, which he took with some show of interest. After reading it he said: “Why, I’d ship you to Jericho, if I was sending hosses that fur, but only thing I can do’s to send ye to Buffalo. You’ll mebbe get another haul from there, though I can’t say.” I thought of the small amount of money in my pocket, and of the distance at which I found myself from home, and then said: “I was told that you might be able to ship me to New York, sir. I need the lift. I have less than five dollars.” “Sorry, kid,” he muttered. “Buffalo’s best thing in the ring for a week or more. Good day, sonny!” “But I’ll take the chance to Buffalo,” I gasped, fearful that he would turn me off entirely. “I’ll be very thankful for that much of a ride, sir.” He opened a drawer and wrote several items on a yellow way bill which he handed to me. “Shove that in yer pocket and skedaddle, sonny,” he said. “I wish yer joy in yer ejucation, though I don’t in hang know what ye’ll do with it when yer got it; plant corn, in all likelihood. S’long! Train leaves at half-past six: freight yard. Numbers of the cars on the pass!”