During the long hours of that interminable night he had ample time to reflect upon the folly of pursuing an object which he did not mean to possess. But though wisdom urged discretion, a blue eye and a furtive dimple beckoned.
When morning came, he straightened his stiff legs and, picking his way through the wooden sandals that cluttered the aisle, went out to the small platform. The train had stopped at a village, and a boy with a tray suspended from his shoulders, bearing boxes of native food, was howling dismally:
"Bento! Eo Bento!"
Percival beckoned to him. "I say, can't you get me a roll and a cup of coffee!"
"Bento?" asked the boy, expectantly.
"Coffee!" shouted Percival. "Rather strong, you know, and hot."
"Tan San? Rhomenade?" asked the boy.
"Coffee. Café. What a silly fool!" Percival muttered.
About this time several windows in the car went up, and many voices took up the cry of "Bento." When Percival reëntered, he found that a large pot of boiling water had been deposited in the aisle, and small tea-pots had been distributed among the passengers. Everybody was partaking of breakfast, and everybody seemed to be enjoying it, especially Judson, who was attacking his neatly arranged bamboo sprouts, pickled eels, and snowy rice with avidity.
"This is a bit of all right, sir," he said with enthusiasm. "Shall I fetch you a box, sir!"