"I only want to see an Indian baby and get an Indian doll," put in Nan. "I don't like grown-up Indians. They have a lot of feathers on, like turkeys."
"That's what I like!" Bert declared. "If I wasn't going to be a cowboy
I'd be an Indian, I guess."
Night came, and when the electric lights in the cars were turned on
Freddie and Flossie awakened from their nap.
"How do you feel?" asked his mother, as she smoothed her little boy's rumpled hair.
"I—I guess I feel hungry!" he said, though he was still not quite awake.
"So'm I!" added Flossie. You could, nearly always, depend on her to say and do about the same things Freddie did and said.
"Well, this is a good time to be hungry," said Mr. Bobbsey with a laugh. "I just heard them say that dinner was being served in the dining car. We'll go up and eat again."
After dinner the porter made up the funny little beds, or "berths," as they are called, and soon the Bobbsey twins had crawled into them and were asleep.
It must have been about the middle of the night that Mrs. Bobbsey, who was sleeping with Flossie on one side of the aisle, heard a noise just outside her berth. It was as if something had fallen to the floor with a thud. She opened the curtains and looked out. Freddie and his father had gone to sleep in the berth just across from her, but now she saw a little white bundle lying on the carpeted floor of the car.
"What is that? Who is it?" the mother of the twins exclaimed.