III
It come along May and we was goin’ East. Brooklyn was the first place we was scheduled and we was leavin’ home on the five-thirty, right after a game.
Well, the first thing Carey done when we got on the train was to tell the dinge to make up two berths. Then he took off his coat and collar like he was gettin’ ready to undress. Some o’ the boys went right into the diner and Skull was goin’ to follow ’em when Carey nailed him.
“Where are you goin’, kid?” he says.
“To get my supper,” says Skull.
“Take a tip from me and stay where you are,” says Carey. “Them other fellas ain’t goin’ to have nothin’ to eat. They’re tryin’ to stall you.”
“What’s the idear?” says Skull.
“It’s old stuff,” says Carey, “but I’ll explain it to you. This car ain’t only got twelve lowers and they’s twenty-four of us on the trip. That means they can’t only twelve of us have lowers and the rest gets uppers. But the first twelve in bed gets the lowers.”
“Yes,” says Skull, “but the secretary give me a piece o’ paper that says I’m to have a lower.”
“Well,” says Carey, “can you knock somebody out o’ bed with that piece of paper? I’m tellin’ you, kid. The paper don’t make no difference; it’s the fellas that gets there first.”
“Are you goin’ to bed yourself?” says Skull.
“You bet I am,” says Carey.
“But you won’t get no supper,” says Skull.
“Supper!” says Carey. “I’d rather go without twenty suppers than ride in a upper through them Indiana mountains. These other birds is tryin’ to put somethin’ over. They’ll wait till the dinge gets a couple o’ berths made up and then they’ll race fer ’em. He’s makin’ up two right now and you can bet that one is goin’ to be mine.”
Pretty soon Skull was peelin’ his coat.
“Keep some loose change under your pillow,” says Carey. “You’re liable to be awake when we go through Fall River and you can send the porter out for a sandwich.”
Well, Carey hid behind the curtains of his berth and waited till Skull was all set for the night. Then he put his collar and coat back on and come into the diner and told us about it. Only o’ course he didn’t tell Cap.
I was back in our car when Cap come in. He seen the two berths made up and got curious. First he peeked into the one Carey’s been settin’ in and they wasn’t nobody there. Then he looked in at Skull.
“What’s the matter?” he says. “Sick?”
“No, I ain’t sick,” says Skull.
“Been drinkin’ somethin’?” says Cap.
“No,” says Skull.
“Well,” says Cap, “you go to bed nights after this and you won’t be all in in the middle o’ the afternoon.”
I snuck down to Skull’s berth.
“Just lay low in there,” I says. “He was tryin’ to get you out because he wants that berth. It’s the best spot in the car—right over the front wheels. You hold on to it.”
Along about nine o’clock all the berths was made up but one, the seat where the boys was playin’ cards. I and Carey was up in the buffet car, but Smitty told us what come off.
Skull stuck his head out between the curtains and seen the card game. Smitty seen him lookin’.
“Ain’t you goin’ to bed?” says Skull.
“We can’t,” says Smitty. “All the lowers is gone.”
“I’ll set up a wile if you want to lay here,” says Skull.
“Off o’ that noise!” says Smitty. “Cap would fine us a hundred apiece if he catched us tradin’ berths.”
So Skull laid back, but pretty soon he peeked out again and ast for the porter.
“He got sore and quit at South Bend,” says Smitty.
“Have we came to Fall River yet?” ast Skull.
“No, and we ain’t goin’ to,” says Smitty.
“Why not?” says Skull.
“They’s a big storm there,” says Smitty. “So we’re goin’ round the other way, through Evanston.”
“Can a man get a sandwich there?”
“Not a sandwich,” says Smitty. “But they’s a old lady meets this train every night with a basket o’ fried chicken and mashed potatoes—four bits a throw.”
“What time do we get to Evanston?”
“Can’t tell; it ain’t on the regular schedule,” says Smitty.
“But you’ll know when we’re pullin’ in—the engine’ll give one long whistle.”
“They done that a wile ago,” says Skull.
“Yes,” says Smitty. “The engineer thought it was Evanston, but it wasn’t. His mistake.”
Smitty come up afterward and joined us in the buffet car. We was all back and undressin’ when we slowed up for Toledo. Carey spoke up loud.
“This must be Evanston,” he says.
Skull popped out of his berth.
“Where’ll I find that woman?” he says to Smitty.
“Up at the head end,” says Smitty. “She’s the fireman’s mother-in-law.”
Skull started up the aisle.
“Here,” I says, “you can’t go callin’ in your nightgown.”
“You won’t have time to dress,” says Smitty. “We’re only here two minutes.”
“You better forget eatin’,” says Carey. “I got hungry at Elkhart and wile I was scoutin’ I lost my berth.”
Skull turned to me.
“Go out and find her for me, will you?” he says. “Get two orders, one for you and one for me, and I’ll pay you for the both.”
“I ain’t hungry,” I says. “I had a pretty good dinner—soup and lake trout and a porterhouse with mushrooms and hashed brown potatoes and poached eggs and salad and apple pie and coffee.”
“I’ll go out for you,” says Carey; “but if I get left you’ll have to pay my fare from here to New York.”
So Carey went out in the vestibule and stalled round till the train started up again. Then he come back, pantin’ like he’d ran a mile.
“That’s fine luck!” he says. “She’d just gave me the stuff when the train began to pull out. If I hadn’t ran clear back here I’d of got left; they wasn’t no other door open. And wile I was runnin’ I dropped your supper.”
Well, I don’t know how much more sleep Skull got that night, but I’ll bet he
