"I felt like warning you, my boy," he said, "as I saw it was your first long journey."

"And I'm much obliged to you," said Roy. "I wonder how everyone knows I'm a tenderfoot when it comes to traveling on railroad trains?"

"A tenderfoot?"

"Yes, that's what we call persons who don't know much about western life. I suppose their feet get tender from taking such long walks on the plains. Anyhow that means a sort of 'greenhorn' I suppose.

Everyone on the train spots me for that."

"Well, it is easy to see you are not used to traveling, for you take so much interest in everything, and you show that it is new to you. But you are learning fast. Even an experienced traveler might have been taken in by those gamblers."

"I guess they'll not bother me any more," said Roy.

And he was right, but only to a certain extent, for, though the gamblers did not "bother" him again, he had not seen the last of them, as you shall see.

The tricksters were in a bad mood, and, soon after that they left the smoking room, and remained in another car, so Roy did not see them again that day.

The express continued on, bringing the boy nearer and nearer to Chicago. He wished he might have a little time to spend there, as he had heard much of it, especially the stock yards, where his father sent many head of cattle in the course of a year. But Roy knew he must hurry on to New York, to attend to the business on which he had been sent.

The next morning, soon after breakfast, the train came to a sudden stop, near a small railroad station. As the express did not stop, except at the large cities, Roy wondered if some one like himself, had flagged the engineer. Soon he was aware, however, that something unusual had occurred. Pa.s.sengers began leaving their seats, and went out of the cars.

"I wonder what's the matter?" Roy said aloud. He was overheard by the gentleman who had talked to him about the gamblers, and who had given his name, as John Armstrong.

"I think we've had an accident," said Mr. Armstrong.

"An accident? Is anybody killed?"

"No, I do not think so. Suppose we get out and see what the trouble is?"

They left their seats, and joined the other pa.s.sengers who were walking toward the head of the train, which was a long one. It did not take many seconds to ascertain that an accident had occurred to the engine of the express, and that it would be necessary to send to the next station to get materials to make repairs.

"That means we'll be held here for some time," observed Mr. Armstrong.

"Well, if the delay is not too long, it will give you a chance to walk about and stretch your muscles."

"And I'll be glad enough to do it," replied Roy. "I'm not used to sitting still, and it sure is very tiresome to me. I'd like to have my pony, Jack Rabbit, here now. I'd take a fine gallop."

"Well, I think a walk will have to answer in place of it now. There does not seem to be much in the way of amus.e.m.e.nts at this station."

The depot was a mere shanty, with a small telegraph and ticket office in it. A few houses and a store made up the "town," which was located on the plains.

As Roy started toward the depot many of the pa.s.sengers got back in their cars, as the sun was hot. Roy, however, rather enjoyed it.

Among those who had alighted were Mr. Baker and his three cronies.

They stood on the depot platform, talking together.

"Maybe they're trying to get up some new scheme to get me to gamble,"

thought Roy. As he neared the station his attention was attracted by a rather curious figure.

This was a young man whom Roy at once characterized as a "dude," for he and the cowboys had been in the habit of so calling any one who was as well dressed as was the stranger. And Roy at once knew that the man had not been on the train before, as the boy from the ranch had seen all the pa.s.sengers during his journey.

The "tenderfoot", as Roy also characterized him, was attired in a light suit, the trousers very much creased. He had on a purple necktie, rather a high collar, and patent leather shoes. In his hand he carried a light cane, and in one eye was a gla.s.s, called a monocle. Beside him was a dress-suit case, and he looked as if he was ready to travel.

Roy glanced at him, and was inclined to smile at the elaborate costume of the youth, for the western lad had the usual cattleman's contempt for fashionable clothes, arguing (not always rightly) that a person who paid so much attention to dress could not amount to a great deal.

The young man stood leaning against the side of the depot, carelessly swinging his cane. Roy could see he had a valuable watch chain across his vest, and, in his tie there sparkled what was presumably a diamond.

As Roy watched he saw Baker and his three cronies approach the "dude."

A moment later they had engaged him in conversation.

"I'll bet they're up to some game," mused Roy. "I wonder if I can find out what it is, and spoil it? I believe they will try to get the best of that 'tenderfoot.' Guess I'll see what's up."

CHAPTER IX

THE DUDE IS SWINDLED

Carelessly, so as not to attract the attention of the four men, Roy strolled to the depot platform, taking care to get on the side opposite that on which was the elaborately-dressed youth. The sharpers did not see Roy, who kept in the shadow, and the attention of the other pa.s.sengers from the train was taken up with what the engineer and firemen were doing, to get the locomotive ready for the repair crew.

"How do you do?" asked Mr. Baker, of the "tenderfoot," as he approached with his three cronies. "Haven't I met you somewhere before?"

"Well, really, I couldn't say; don't you know," replied the well-dressed youth, with an affected drawl.

"I am sure I have," went on Mr. Baker. "So are my three friends. As soon as we saw you standing here, my friend, Mr. Sutton, said to me, 'Where have I seen that distinguished looking gentleman before?'

Didn't you, Sutton?"

"Indeed I did, Mr. Baker. And Mr. Hynard said the same thing."

"Sure I did," replied Mr. Hynard. "I know I've met you before Mr.--er--Ah, I didn't quite catch the name."

"My name is De Royster--Mortimer De Royster, of New York," replied the dude, seemingly much flattered at the attention he had attracted. "I'm sure I can't recall where I met you gentlemen before, but, don't you know, your faces are very familiar to me."

"Of course," went on Mr. Baker. "I remember you very well now. You are a son of Van d.y.k.e De Royster, the great New York banker; are you not?"

"No," replied Mr. De Royster, "he is only a distant relative of mine, but I belong to the same family. It is very distinguished."

"Indeed it is," said Mr. Baker. "I have often read in history of the great doings of the De Roysters. Gentlemen, shake hands with Mr. De Royster. I know his relative, the great banker, Van d.y.k.e De Royster, very well."

Now this was true, to a certain extent, but all the acquaintance Mr.

Baker had with the well known banker, was when the latter had him arrested for trying to cash a forged check. But Mr. Baker did not mention this.

"I am very glad to meet you," said Mortimer De Royster, as he shook hands with the four swindlers, thinking them delightful gentlemen indeed.

"Are you going far?" asked Hynard.

"To New York. You see I am--er--that is--er--I have been doing a little business--I am selling jewelry for a relative of mine in New York. It is not exactly work, for I am traveling for my health, and I do a little trade on the side."

"Guess he's ashamed to let it be known that he works for a living,"

thought Roy, but later he found he had misjudged De Royster.