CHAPTER Il.
WESTERN FREAKS.

OME one was making a
sound like a locomotive
whistle.

“Oh-h-h-h! Isn't that
steep? That’s like them.”

It was Rick. Hs was look-
ing at a book of pictures lymg
on a table in the parlor of the
San Francisco hotel where Uncle
Nat was stopping. When he
said, “That’s like them,” he

meant pictures of cafions, a fea-

+

 

‘ture of scenery the boys saw
Ae in California.

“Do you want me to tell you about the pictures? I have been all
through that country.”

This interrupting voice was a very pleasant one, and it sounded
directly above Rick’s head. He looked up and saw a man’s face over
him.

“Oh —is—this your book?” asked Rick.

“Qh that is all right. Now if you would like to hear about those pic-
tures you get that boy over there in the corner, for I guess he is

your brother, and I will tell you both about them.”
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