All at once Mount Whitney leaped over the horizon.

Independence was reached and passed; the freight, nearly emptied by now, and much shortened, rolled along the shores of Owen Lake.

At a place called Keeler it stopped definitely.

It was the terminus of the road.
The town of Keeler was a one-street town, not unlike Iowa Hill--the post-office, the bar and hotel, the Odd Fellows' Hall, and the livery stable being the principal buildings.
"Where to now ?" muttered McTeague to himself as he sat on the edge of the bed in his room in the hotel.

He hung the canary in the window, filled its little bathtub, and watched it take its bath with enormous satisfaction.