"For a good reason," the tramp answered. "I didn't want any one to see me. The railroad men don't like us tramps, and when they find us in the cars they put us out. I crawled away back in the darkest corner I could find and curled up. I must have looked like a bundle of rags."
"You did," Bunny answered. "That's what I thought you were."
"It's the safest way to look when a railroad man is searching for you," Nutty answered, with a laugh. "Well, I'm on my way again," he added. "The engine must have backed down, coupled on to the freight cars, and hauled them off while I slept. Where are you children going?"
"We—we don't know," answered Bunny Brown, and then he and Sue felt a wave of lonesomeness coming over them. They wanted their father and mother, and the children knew they were being carried farther and farther away from their parents as the train jolted along. They knew daddy and mother would be much frightened, too.
"Where is your mother?" asked Nutty, the tramp.
"She was sitting on a bench at the station when we climbed into the car to get the kitten," explained Sue.
"She didn't see us," added her brother.
"And where is your father?" Nutty wanted to know.
"He's up in the village seeing a man," said Bunny. "We're going to Florida to get alligators—"
"And oranges!" broke in Sue.