"Well, I have some sort of a youngster in my berth with me," was the low, laughing answer. "I had a dream that my pet dog had climbed in bed with me, as he sometimes does when I'm at home. In my sleep I put out my hand and I felt some soft, curly head. Then I happened to think, in my dream, that my dog is an Airedale, and they don't exactly have soft, silky hair.
"Then I woke up, reached under my pillow for my flash-light, and pressed the switch. There I saw a small boy asleep with me. Maybe he's the one you want."
"Oh, it must be Mun Bun!" exclaimed Mrs. Bunker. "Look quick, Charles!"
Mr. Bunker went down to the berth whence the man with the night-cap had spoken. There, surely enough, peacefully sleeping in the strange bed, was Mun Bun.
"Yes, that's my boy," said Daddy Bunker. "Sorry he bothered you."
"Shucks, he didn't bother me a mite!" said the good-natured man. "I used to have a little tot like him myself, but he's grown up now, and gone to war. I'm old and bald-headed—that's why I wear this night-cap, on account of my bald head," he went on. "But I'm not too old to like children. You can let him stay here until morning if you wish. He won't bother me."
"No, thank you," said Mr. Bunker. "He might wake up and be frightened if he found himself in a strange bed. I'll carry him back with me. Thank you just the same."
Daddy Bunker picked up Mun Bun, still sleeping, and the little fellow never awakened. His father took him back to his own berth. Uncle Fred got into his and Mrs. Bunker went back to sleep beside Margy.
Mun Bun never awakened as his father carried him back, but slept on. Only he murmured something in his dreams about "pony rides."
"You shall have some when you get to Uncle Fred's ranch," whispered Daddy Bunker, as he softly kissed the little sleeping fellow. And Mun Bun was once more tucked in the bed where he belonged.