"Yes; I rode on one the other night that could beat this," grinned Phil.
A few minutes later the car got under motion, pushed by a switching engine, and began banging along merrily over switches, tearing through the yard at high speed.
"We seem to be in a hurry 'bout something," grunted Teddy. "Maybe they've hooked us on the wrong train, and we're bound for somewhere else."
"No, I don't think so," replied Phil. "You should be used to this sort of thing by this time."
"I don't care as long as the food holds out. It doesn't make any difference where they take us."
"What section does this car go out on tonight, steward?" questioned Phil.
"The last. Goes out with the sleepers."
"That explains it. They are shifting us around, making up the last section and to get us out of the way of section No. 2. I never can keep these trains straight in my mind, they change them so frequently. But it's better than riding in a canvas wagon over a rough country road, isn't it, Teddy?"
"Worse," grunted the lad. "You never know when you're going to get your everlasting bump, and you don't have any net to fall in when you do. Hey, they're at it again!"
His words were almost prophetic.