"We want it with plenty of cash," added the last man, who was called Dennison Tupper.

"This is a green kid, right from the ranch, going to New York," said Phelan Baker. "He's got quite a wad of money, and if you work the game right you may be able to get the most of it. I'll tell you how."

Then the four began to whisper, for they were laying a plot and were afraid of being overheard. All unconscious of the danger that threatened him, Roy was back in the parlor car, enjoying the scenery, and thinking of the many strange things he would see in New York.

For some reason Mr. Baker did not come back where Roy was. Perhaps he feared the boy might be suspicious of his sudden friendship, for Mr.

Baker was a good reader of character, and he saw that Roy, in spite of his lack of experience, was a shrewd lad.

As for the young traveler, he began to get tired. He was unused to sitting still so long, and riding in a soft chair was very different from being on the back of the swift pony, galloping over the plains.

"I wonder what they're going to do about bunks?" thought Roy, as he looked about the car. "I don't fancy sleeping on these chairs, and I've heard they made the seats in the coaches up into bunks."

Roy had never seen a sleeping car, and imagined the coach he was in was one. He decided he would ask the porter about it soon, if he saw no signs of the beds being made up. He had his supper alone at a table in the dining car, Mr. Baker remaining with his three cronies, and out of Roy's sight. Profiting by his experience at dinner, the boy knew how to order a good meal.

To his relief, soon after he got back to the parlor car, the porter who had first spoken to him, came up and announced:

"Youh berth will be ready any time youh want it, sah."

"Berth?"

"Yais, sah."

Roy did not know exactly what was meant. At the ranch that word was never used, a bed being a "bunk."

"I don't think I care for any," said Roy, deciding that was the safest way.

"What's that, sah? Youh ain't goin to sit up all night, be youh?

Mighty uncomfortable, sah. Better take a bed. Youh ticket calls fo'

one, sah."

"Oh, you mean a bunk?"

"Bunk! Ha! Ha! Youh western gen'men gwine to hab youh joke, I see.

We calls 'em berths, sah."

"Is mine ready?"

"Jest as soon as youh want it. Youh can go back in de sleeping car."

This Roy understood. He went back two coaches toward the rear, as directed by the porter, and found himself in still another kind of car.

This had big plush seats, like small couches, facing each other, while, overhead, was a sort of sloping ceiling.

"I don't see where there are many bunks here," the boy remarked to himself. He saw persons sitting in the seats, talking, and, finding one unoccupied, he took possession of it. Soon a porter came in to him, examined his ticket, and asked:

"Do youh wish youh berth made up now, sah?"

"Guess I might as well," replied Roy, wondering where the porter was going to get the bed from, and whether he was going to produce it from some unseen source, as a conjurer pulls rabbits out of tall hats.

"Ef youh jest kindly take the next seat, I'll make up your berth," said the porter, and Roy moved back one place, but where he could still watch the colored man.

That individual then proceeded to make up the berth. While the process is familiar to many of my young readers, it was a novelty to Roy. With much wonder he watched the man lift up the cushions of the seats, take out blankets and pillows from the hollow places, and then slide the two bottoms of the seats together until they made a level place.

Then what Roy had thought to be merely a slanting part of the ceiling was pulled down, revealing a broad shelf, that formed the upper berth or bed. On this shelf were sheets, blankets and other things needed for the beds. In a short time Roy saw made before his eyes, where there had been only seats before, a comfortable "bunk" with pillows, white sheets, blankets, curtains hanging down in front and all complete.

"Now youh can turn in," said the porter with a smile, as he began to make up another berth. Roy decided to wait a while, until he saw how other men travelers undressed, and when he saw one man retire behind the curtains, and, sitting on the edge of his berth, take off his shoes, and the heavier parts of his clothing, Roy did likewise. Thus the difficult problem of getting to bed was solved.

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 pa.s.sed over rail joints or switches, the b.u.mping 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 circ.u.mstances. He grabbed the hand that was being gently shoved under his pillow.

Instantly the wrist, which his fingers clasped, was s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 bra.s.s b.u.t.tons 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.