"This is certainly better than school!" declared Joe, settling back in his seat with a sigh of contentment.
"Sure is. Chet Morton and the rest of the gang will be just about sick with envy when they hear where we've gone."
"I wish we could have them with us. When do we reach Chicago?"
"Some time to-morrow. Won't it be dandy to stay on the train all night!"
They watched the scenery that seemed to flash past as though on a moving scroll until gradually twilight fell and the lights in the Pullman were turned on. They went into the dining car, where they were served by a massive negro with an air of elaborate courtesy. The novelty of eating an excellent and perfectly served dinner while speeding swiftly across country appealed to them, and when they had finally risen to their feet and left a tip for the waiter, Joe was of the opinion that he could imagine nothing better than living this way all the time.
"When I grow up, if I have money enough, I'll just live on the trains," he said solemnly.
"You'd soon get tired of it."
"Not me!" And not until the novelty of the long journey began to wear off did Joe admit to himself that possibly such an existence might be wearisome in the long run.
They slept the sound slumber of healthy youth and were up early next morning for the first breakfast call. There, at their table with its immaculate linen and gleaming silverware, they did justice to crisp bacon and golden eggs, the meanwhile looking out the wide windows at the murky chimneys and dark masses of factory buildings as the train entered the outskirts of a large city. The train roared across viaducts and they could see trolleys and automobiles speeding to and fro in the city streets in bewildering confusion. For the first time they began to have some appreciation of the real extent of their country.
"I guess Bayport isn't the only city in the States," said Frank, with a smile.