The Press., 1896-07-30
and the landscape that was flying away

and the landscape that was flying away behind them so fast.
 Thirty six miles an hour is our schedule" sad Dick glancing at his time card. That is living at pretty rapid pace"
 II wish I could go all the way at that rate," said the other, "but after l leave the railroad it's slow work, and not quite so comfortable as this either. "
 ''So you don't stick very close to civ ilization?" asked Dick. "Now that in- forests me. was never 50 miles from a railroad in my life. I can hardly imagine how it would seem."
 He had a sudden inspiration that this was the sort of thing he needed just now-such complete isolation from all the trammels of civilization as his companions 8 words suggested.
 "It is interesting" said the older man grimly. II leave the railroad at Flagstaff and cross the Mogollon noun tains. There it is mere good luck if don't die in a snowdrift on the other side of the mountains. If get there alive, 50 miles of desert stare me in the face. Fifty miles of desert, young man. Do you know what that means Not a drop of water is to bo had from one side to the other. The sun glares at you all day and scorches your eyeballs The sand is so hot that it blisters your feet The Indians call it the Malpais- the evil place"
 "Why do you go?" Dick put out the question involuntarily, as he had been awed a little by his companions dra- matlc manner.
 Because, answered the other, with gleam of humor in his eyes, "because I am an old fool. am hunting for the Lost Mine. have been at it ten years. ''
 And are you any nearer it now than at first?''
 "T know where it is," said the old man sagely. II know where it is now. ''
 "I should like such an expedition, '' said Dick tentatively.
 To this the other made no direct re- ply, and seemed thereafter less inclined tc talk.
 As they finished breakfast the train was rolling through the suburbs of the city, and soon the two were parted with again" with which chance acquaintances of travel touch and go.
 Rockley, taking his valise in band. walked toward the Palmer House with no very definite purpose. The conversa- tion in the car had given him thought that he would like to plunge into the adventure of western life. He wished the old man had not flown the track so suddenly. When he reached State street, he was in brown study, and allowing himself to drift along with the throng of pedestrians. Suddenly the drift stop ped, and there was cry of horror from the people ill front of him. Awaking from his reverie, he saw that which made his blood freeze. A little girl had slipped and fallen upon the crossing, and a heavy cable car was coming at full speed. The gripman was ringing his gong vigorously, but his face was turned away so that he did not see the child.
 The men nearer than Dick had no no- tion of imperiling their lives. He saw it all at a glance and thrust himself forward through the crowd, f1inging aside those who obstructed him. With leap that would have done credit to his best col lege days he was upon the track, had gathered the child in his arms and was off again as the car rushed by. The crowd surrounded them and began to ap- plaud. Dick set the child down, thrust some coins into her hand and made of for his hotel
 One man followed him, keeping dis tance that would not attract attention, and when Dick put his name down at the Palmer this man came up carelessly, glanced at the register, whipped out a notebook and wrote down what he saw and hurried away to the office of The Times.
 A few hours later Dick, strolling about the streets aimlessly, came full upon the bulletin board of the newspaper office and was immensely surprised to see his own name there ill big, black letters. The bulletin read:
 "A child's peril. A hero to the res. cue. MT. Richard Rockley of Wayneland, Ind., saves a little girl from instant death. See evening papers for particu lars. "
 Tho incident of the morning had al most passed from his mind, and while Dick did not crave notoriety he was nat urally curious to see what the papers said about him. Tho account was writ ten with all the glowing fervor of the reporter s art, and when he had read ii there came to Dick the recollection o1 Do1 1o Lo tempted to send her the paper. But he repressed the impulse at once, little ashamed at having even thought of it.
 He was at lunch in the octagon dining room at his hotel when one of the great plate glass mirrors with which that room is walled showed a familiar figure approaching. At first he could not place | it, although sure 1t was some one he knew. But Q hearty hand slap upon hil shoulder and "Row are you by this time MT. Rockley?" quickly brought hiE breakfast acquaintance to mind.
 'Saw your name in the papers anC thought would look you up again. A man that can do what you did is wortt knowing" And with that the old fel low grasped Dicks hand and shook il with will. My name is Easton," ht continued, ''Ephraim Easton, and tolC you what am this morning.''
 "But how did you know my name? asked Dick, blushingly disclaiming tho other praises, land how do you sup pose the papers learned it?" "Why, saw it on your valise," said Easton
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