Chapter VI: A Sudden Awakening

Stretching out in the comfortable berth Roy thought he would soon fall asleep, as he was quite tired. But the novelty of his ride, the strange sensation of being whirled along many miles an hour while lying in bed, proved too much for him, and he found himself still wide-awake, though he had been in the berth an hour or more.

The noise of the wheels, the rumble of the train, the click-clack as the wheels passed over rail joints or switches, the bumping and swaying motion, all served to drive sleep away from Roy's eyes.

He thought of many things, of what he would do when he got to New York, of his father, of Caleb Annister, and what he should say to the New Yorker. Finally, however, the very monotony of the noises began to make him feel drowsy. In a little while he found his eyes closing, and then, almost before he knew it, he was asleep.

Meanwhile, back in the smoking room, the three men and Mr. Baker were talking over their cigars. One of them produced a pack of cards, and they began to play.

"Maybe if Isaac's game doesn't work, we can get him with these," suggested Mr. Baker, as he dealt the pasteboards to his companions.

"Maybe," agreed Hynard. "What time is Ike going to try it?"

"About two o'clock. He'll be sure to be asleep then."

Back in his berth, some hours after this, Roy was dreaming that he was being shaken in his bunk at the ranch house. He thought Billy Carew was urging him to get up early to go off on a round-up, and Roy was trying to drive the sleep away from his eyes, and comply.

Suddenly he knew it was not a dream, but that some one was moving him, though very gently. Then he became aware that a hand was being cautiously thrust under his pillow.

Roy did not stop to think--he acted. His instant impression was of thieves, and he did the most natural thing under the circumstances. He grabbed the hand that was being gently shoved under his pillow.

Instantly the wrist, which his fingers clasped, was snatched away, withdrawn from the curtains, and a voice exclaimed:

"Beg pardon. I was looking for your ticket. I'm the conductor. It's all right."

Roy thought the voice did not sound a bit like the voice of the conductor, who had spoken to him some time before. Nor could the boy understand why a conductor should be feeling under his pillow for his ticket, when Roy had, as was the custom, given him the bits of pasteboard, including his berth check, earlier in the evening. The conductor had said he would keep them until morning, to avoid the necessity of waking Roy up to look at them during the night.

"That's queer," thought the boy.

He sat up in bed, and thrust his head through the curtains that hung down in front of his berth. Down the aisle, which was dimly lighted, he saw a man hurrying toward the end of the car--the end where the smoking apartment was.

"That wasn't the conductor," said Roy to himself. "He has two brass buttons on the back of coat, and this chap hasn't any. I believe he was a thief, after my money. Lucky I didn't put it under my pillow, or he'd have it now. I must be on the watch. No wonder Billy Carew warned me to be careful. I wonder who that fellow was?"

Roy had half a notion to get up and inform a porter or the conductor what had happened, but he did not like to dress in the middle of the night, and go hunting through the sleeping car for someone to speak to about the matter.

"I'll just be on the watch," thought Roy, "and if he comes back I'll be ready for him."

However, he was not further disturbed that night, and soon fell asleep again, not forgetting, however, the precaution of hiding his pocketbook in the middle of his bed, under the blankets, where, if thieves tried to take it, they would first have to get him out of the berth.

Roy awakened shortly after sunrise the next morning. He was accustomed to early rising at the ranch, and this habit still clung to him. He managed to dress, while sitting on the edge of his berth, and then he reached down under the edge of it on the floor of the car, where, the night before, he had left his shoes. To his surprise they were gone.

"That's funny," he thought. "I wonder if the fellow who didn't get my money, took my shoes for spite?"

To make sure he stepped out into the aisle in his stocking feet, and looked under his berth. His shoes were not to be seen.

"Now I am in a pickle," thought the boy. "How am I going all the way to New York without shoes? I can't go out in my stocking feet to get a new pair, and I don't suppose there are any stores near the stations, where I could buy new ones. But that's the only thing I can do. I wonder if the train would wait long enough until I could send one of the porters to a store for a pair of shoes? It would be a funny thing to do, I guess, and, besides, he wouldn't know what size to get. I certainly am up against it!"

As Roy stood in the curtained aisle of the car, all alone, for none of the other travelers were up yet, he saw a colored porter approaching. Something in the boy's manner prompted the man to ask:

"Can I do anything fo' youh, sah? You'se up early, sah."

"I am looking for my shoes."

"Oh, youh shoes. I took 'em, sah."

"You took 'em? What right have you taking my shoes? Haven't you got any of your own?" and Roy spoke sternly, for he thought this was too much; first an attempt made to rob him of his money, and then some one stealing his shoes.

"Where are they?" he went on. "I want 'em."

"Yais, sah. Right away, sah. I jest took 'em a little while ago to blacken 'em, sah. I allers does that to the gen'men's shoes. I'll have 'em right back. Did youh think I done stole 'em, sah?"

"That's what I did," replied Roy with a smile. "I thought I'd have to go to New York in my stocking feet."

"Ob, no indeedy, sah. I allers goes around and collects the gen'men's shoes early, 'fore they gits up. I takes 'em back to my place and I blacks 'em. Den I brings 'em back."

"That's quite an idea," said Roy, now noticing that from under the berths of his fellow travelers the shoes were all missing.

"Yais, sah," went on the colored man. "And sometimes, sah, sometimes, youh know, de gen'men's gives me a little remembrance, sah, for blackenin' their shoes."

"Then I'll do the same," spoke Roy, remembering what Billy Carew had told him of the necessity for "tipping" the car porters.

"Thank youh, sah. I'll have youh shoes back d'rectly, sah."

The porter was as good as his word, and soon Roy was able to put on his shoes, which he hardly recognized. The dust that had accumulated from his ride across the plains to the railroad depot had all been removed, and the leather shone brightly. He gave the porter a quarter of a dollar, for which the colored man returned profuse thanks. Soon the other travelers began to get up. Roy watched them go to the washroom and did likewise. He met Mr. Baker in there, and accepted an invitation to go to breakfast with him in the dining car.

"Did you sleep well last night?" asked the man with the big watch chain.

"Pretty well," replied Roy, deciding to say nothing of the hand that was thrust under his pillow. He first wanted to make a few observations of his fellow passengers.

After breakfast, when Roy was sitting in his chair in the parlor car, Mr. Baker approached.

"There are some friends of mine in the smoking room," he said to the boy. "I would like to introduce you to them."

"That is very kind of you," replied the young traveler. "I shall be glad to meet them," for Roy considered it nice on the part of Mr. Baker to take so much interest in him.

"We can have a pleasant chat together," went on the man as he led the way to a private room or "section" as they are called. This was near the smoking room end of the car. "My friends are much interested in ranch life, and perhaps you will give them some information."