This prediction proved correct, for they travelled the remainder of the night in the gondola without being noticed. The train went slow, and stopped often, switching frequently, but as they lay at the bottom of the car and there was no travelling over them by employees, they were not interfered with. Singularly enough, Ben fell asleep while the train was in motion, and slept well. The jolting of the gondola became rather conducive to his slumbers, than otherwise.
In the grey of the dawn the two got down at a side track, in the city of Easton, Pennsylvania, covered with coal dust and as black as chimney sweeps.
"We are across the State of New Jersey, anyway," said Tommy.
"That's encouraging," returned Ben. "If I make as good time right through, I shall win my wager easily."
"What wager?" asked Tommy.
Ben was momentarily confused, but answered that he had wagered with some friends that he could make St. Louis by the 22d of the month.
"Oh, that's easy enough done. Let us have a scrub up, and then get some chuck."
The "scrubbing up" proved a formidable operation. The coal dust seemed ground into their skins, and despite much rubbing under the spout of a pump, Ben differed materially in appearance from the young gentleman who had left New York city but a day before. Much of this was due to the rumpled and dirty condition of his clothes, which were all creased, and gave him the appearance of having been run through a mill of some sort.
The two travellers separated with the agreement to meet at the railway station in about an hour, and perfect plans for future operations. Ben was quite hungry. His long night's ride had given him a vigorous appetite that he felt would have to be appeased shortly. He also felt that the past forty-eight hours had wrought a great change in him. He was no longer himself, so to speak. A new man had been born within him. A callous, careless, independent man, that had not been in his possession before. He felt indifferent as to appearances, and the stares of strangers did not annoy him. He shuffled along with his hands in his pockets, and head down. He slouched. A marked contrast to his usual erect deportment. In fact, he was becoming (though he did not know it) a tramp. It still was humiliating to have to ask for something to eat, but nature overcame his objections, and he proceeded to the back door of a comfortable cottage. The door was open, and a rough-looking, dirty man was seated at a table eating his breakfast.
"Well?" said this individual, surveying Ben surlily.