"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 a
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