Owen Wister,
A Pilgrim on the Gila
(1895)
“ All aboa-rd!" came from somewhere, dreary and wavering, met at further distance by the floating antiphonal, "Aboa-rd, aboard for Grant!" and in the chill black air my driver lifted his portion of the strain, chanting, "Car-los! Car-los!" One last time he circled in the nearer darkness with his stage to let me dress. Mostly unbuttoned, and with not even a half-minute to splash cold water in my eyes, I clambered solitary into the vehicle and sat among the leather mail-bags, some boxes, and a sack of grain, having four hours yet till breakfast for my contemplation. ”
