Westy had his camp outfit along and we had a lot of fun that night cooking supper in that old car. Westy and Pee-wee went up to the store and got some eggs and stuff, and I made a dandy omelet. I flopped it over all right and Connie Bennett said it would do for a good turn, because I hadn't done any good turn that day. Pee-wee just turned around a couple of times and said that was his—he should worry.
After supper we took a little hike in the woods but we didn't stay very long, because we were afraid that freight might come along ahead of time. Safety first. When we got back we sat around on the plush seats waiting for the freight and jollying Pee-wee.
It got to be about half-past ten, but still the freight didn't come. Every little while one of us would go out and hold an ear down to the track and listen. You can hear a train about ten miles off that way.
"If it's coming at all it must be coming on tiptoe," I said.
"Or else it's wearing rubbers," Wig answered back.
"Maybe it's stalking a cow that's on the track," I said, "and has to sneak along quietly. We should worry."
Pretty soon we began getting sleepy. Pee-wee said he wasn't exactly sleepy, but he guessed he'd lie down a little while. That was the end of him. If there had been an earthquake it wouldn't have stirred him. The only thing that could have awakened him would have been his own voice, only he doesn't talk in his sleep.
Pretty soon Wig said it was funny how Pee-Wee could fall asleep so easy and he guessed he'd just sprawl on one of the seats and think. Good night! but didn't he snore while he was thinking. All of a sudden Westy went sliding down to the floor and I dragged him up on the seat again. He was dead to the world.
"Believe me," I said to Connie; "what do you know about that? I'll laugh if that freight comes along and gives us a good bunk. Look at that trio, will you?" He just didn't answer me at all.
"G-o-o-d night!" I said to myself; "wake me early, mother dear."