“We’re on the prairies!” exclaimed Bob, as he went to the lavatory to get ready for breakfast. “Say, now we’re in the wild and woolly west, all right.”
“Well, it’s not the first time,” replied Jerry. “Still it does look good to see it again. It’s a little different, traveling this way, than it was scooting along in our auto.”
“Yes, and I think I prefer the auto to this,” spoke up Ned, yawning and stretching. “This is too lazy a way of journeying. I’d like to rough it a bit.”
“Rough it!” exclaimed Bob. “Wait until we get out in California, and we can sleep out doors, while the folks back home are tending the furnace fire.”
The three boys were just about to enter the lavatory when the train gave a sudden lurch, and then it began bumping along over the ties, swaying from side to side. Every window in the car rattled as if it would break, and the boys were so shaken up, that, to steady themselves, they had to grasp whatever was nearest.
“We’re off the track!” cried Ned.
“This—is—roughing—it—all right!” said Jerry, the words coming out in jerks. “There’s—been—an—accident!”
“A—whole—lot—of—’em—by—the—way—it—feels to—me,” declared Jerry. “I—wonder—”
Just then the train came to a stop, the car the boys were in being tilted at quite an angle.
“Let’s see what happened,” suggested Bob, going to the door. His companions followed him, and, from various berths the passengers began emerging, in different stages of undress. They looked frightened.