aggressively friendly, but, according to English notions, not at

all unpresentable upon a train. For one stage he eluded the notice

of the officials; but just as we were beginning to move out of the

next station, Cromwell by name, by came the conductor. There was a

word or two of talk; and then the official had the man by the

shoulders, twitched him from his seat, marched him through the car,

and sent him flying on to the track. It was done in three motions,

as exact as a piece of drill. The train was still moving slowly,

although beginning to mend her pace, and the drunkard got his feet

without a fall. He carried a red bundle, though not so red as his

cheeks; and he shook this menacingly in the air with one hand,

while the other stole behind him to the region of the kidneys. It

was the first indication that I had come among revolvers, and I

observed it with some emotion. The conductor stood on the steps

with one hand on his hip, looking back at him; and perhaps this

attitude imposed upon the creature, for he turned without further

ado, and went off staggering along the track towards Cromwell

followed by a peal of laughter from the cars. They were speaking

English all about me, but I knew I was in a foreign land.

Twenty minutes before nine that night, we were deposited at the

Pacific Transfer Station near Council Bluffs, on the eastern bank

of the Missouri river. Here we were to stay the night at a kind of

caravanserai, set apart for emigrants. But I gave way to a thirst

for luxury, separated myself from my companions, and marched with

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