As the last piece of food was devoured, the man reached down, put the cover on the box, folded the paper, wrapped up the box and set it on the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then exclaimed: 

“My, but that went to the right spot!  I sure was hungry.”

“Yes, I guess you were,” assented Bob, a bit ruefully, for he had expected to have at least a portion of the food, put up for him by the kind waitress, to eat during the day.

The stranger, however, ignored the insinuation in Bob’s tone, and proceeded to talk with him.

“Going far?” he asked.

“Yes, to Chicago.”

“That’s good.  So am I. I’m glad to have some one to talk to.  It makes the time pass quicker.  Been visiting in the East?”

“No.  I’ve always lived in New York.”

“Going to Chicago on a visit?”

“Not exactly.  I’m going to call on some friends, and then go on to Oklahoma.”

The mention of Oklahoma roused the stranger to immediate interest.

“You don’t say!  To what part?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

“Going to Oklahoma, and you don’t know to what part?” repeated the man in surprise.

“I’m going on a ranch somewhere.  I was thinking I’d get a map when I got to Chicago, and decide just where.”

“Well, if that don’t beat anything I ever heard!”

The intonation which the man gave to his words was such that Bob felt that he must give some explanation of his indecision, and he returned: 

“You see, I’m going to be a cowboy first, and then a ranch owner, and I didn’t want to decide where to go until I could find out where I would have the best chance.”

“Well, it certainly is fortunate that fate led me to get into this car of all on the train.  I can tell you just the place for you to go.”

“Have you ever been to Oklahoma?” inquired Bob.

“Have I ever been there?  Well, son, I was there off and on for about ten years, when the government first opened up the land, and you could travel for miles without seeing anything but Injuns.”

The knowledge that his companion was familiar with Oklahoma set Bob’s heart beating rapidly, and the thought that he could gather much useful information from this peculiar man caused him to forget all annoyance over the loss of his lunch.

“Then you’ve really seen a live Indian?” asked Bob, his eyes big with excitement.

“I seen too many of the critters.  See that scar?”

And he tapped his forehead with one of his long fingers.

“Yes,” said Bob eagerly.

“Well, it was an Injun gave me that; Flying Horse, they called him.”

At the memory of what had evidently been an exciting adventure, the man lapsed into silence, as though he were re-enacting the events in his mind.

To Bob his silence was tantalizing.  He longed to hear of the experience, and yet he hesitated to ask point-blank.  His interest was so keen, however, that he could not restrain himself entirely, and he squirmed restively in his chair.