window of the observation-car, never tiring of watching the shifting landscape as it whirled past. His interest and intelligence caught the notice of a gentleman who occupied the section opposite the boys, and soon the three formed one of those pleasant acquaintances so frequently made in traveling. Mr. Powers (for that was the stranger's name) was on his way back to his farm in Utah, and very eager was he to reach home. "So many things on the place need my attention that the journey you are delighting in seems very long to me," he remarked to Bob one morning as they came from the dining-car. "Is your farm a large one, Mr. Powers?" questioned Bob. Mr. Powers smiled. "It is larger than you would want to build a fence around," he returned humorously. "I suppose you have all sorts of cows and pigs and horses on it, and raise every kind of fruit and vegetable that ever was invented," put in Van mischievously. Mr. Powers shook his head and looked not a little amused. "No. We have only enough stock for our own use--nothing fancy. I do not go in for show farming. I raise only one thing on my land, and I'm going to see if you are clever enough to guess what it is." "Alfalfa!" cried Bob instantly. "No. How did you happen to think of that?" "Oh, I've read that lots of western farmers raised it." "True enough. It wasn't a bad guess, but it was not the right one," said the stranger. "Now suppose we hear from your chum." "Corn." "Still wrong; but you are getting warmer." "Wheat." "Wheat is not as good a random shot as corn." "It must be a vegetable," declared Bob thoughtfully. "Let me see. Not potatoes?" "No."