It was sent collect, which accounts perhaps for the facetious remarks which it contained.
It was morning when that train arrived, because it was behind time for some reason, but Chip, Weary, Pink and Big Medicine were at the depot to meet it. The new cook having been reported drunk, they wanted to make sure of getting him off the train in case he proved unruly. They were wise in the ways of intoxicated cooks. They ran to the steps of the only Pullman on the train and were met by the grinning porter.
"Yas sah, he's in dah—but Ah cyan't git 'im off, sah, to save mah soul," he explained toothily. "Ah put 'im next de front end, sah, but he's went to sleep and Ah cyan't wake 'em up, an' Ah cyan't tote 'em out nohow. Seems lak he weighs a ton!"
"By cripes, we'll tote him out," declared Big Medicine, pushing ahead of Chip in his enthusiasm. "You hold the train, and we'll git 'im. Show us the bunk."
The porter pointed out the number and retreated to the steps that he might signal the conductor. The four pushed up through the vestibule and laid hold upon the berth curtains.
"Mamma!" ejaculated Weary in a stunned tone. "Look what's in here, boys!"
They thrust forward their heads and peered in at the recumbent form.
"Honest to grandma—it's old Patsy!" The voice of Big Medicine brought heads out all along down the car.
"Come out uh that!" Four voices made up the chorus, and Patsy opened his eyes reluctantly.
"Py cosh, I not cook chuck for you fellers ven I'm sick," he mumbled dazedly.