Gee, I can't tell you just how it happened. Westy says he was to blame and I say I was to blame. He said he knocked the lantern out of my hand, but, gee whiz, I should have kept it out of his way. Anyway, it went tumbling down and it went so far that it looked like just a little red speck. It stayed lighted till it crashed away down in the bottom of that place. And the light turned yellow and spread a little bit, then went out. I guess the oil spilled on a rock down there. Anyway, it looked like miles.
Westy was breathing hard and I guess I was, too. He said, "Have you got that time table? What time did our conductor say that train from Buffalo comes through?"
I said, "About midnight. We're in a pretty bad fix. I guess I'd better wake the fellows up, hey?"
We were both pretty serious.
CHAPTER XXV
IN THE DARK
I guess you know that was an old out-of-date car, because anyone would know that the railroad people wouldn't use a good car to stand on a side track for a makeshift station. Gee whiz, we didn't care about that, we even liked it, because it was old-fashioned and kind of ramshackle; it made it seem like a good place for camping. And if it hadn't been for that old stove in the corner of it, we could never have bunked in it and cooked our meals. Crinkums, I like old things, but not old worn-out couplings. Nay, nay!
Another thing, the only lights in that car were three lamps along the top, but they weren't exactly lights, because the lamps were broken. Just the brass things were there. There was just one good lamp in a side bracket in the ticket agent's place, and when we started away from Brewster's Centre that was full of oil. But we used it all up on Saturday night in Ridgeboro and we couldn't get any at the store the next day, on account of it being Sunday. We were going to get some on Monday morning, but you see we were picked up Sunday night. So now the only light we had was a little flashlight belonging to Connie Bennett.