A QUEER BED
"Are you going to eat on the first call?" asked Mr. Baker, rising from
his comfortable chair and looking at Roy.
"I don't know--I think--Yes, I guess I will."
It suddenly occurred to the boy that he might take advantage of the
acquaintance he had formed with the man, and observe just how he ought
to conduct himself in the dining car.
"I shall be glad of your company," spoke Mr. Baker, with a pleasant
smile. "Will you sit at my table?"
"I'm not so very hungry," remarked Roy, thinking that if he found
things too strange he could call for something simple, though the truth
was he had an excellent appetite.
"I am not either," declared Mr. Baker. "I never eat much while
traveling, but I think it best to have my meals regularly. Now, if
you'll come with me, we'll see what they have at this traveling hotel."
He led the way from the parlor to the dining car. If Roy had been
astonished at the magnificence of the first coach he was doubly so at
the scene which now met his eyes.
Arranged along both sides of the dining car, next to the broad, high
windows, were small tables, sparkling with cut-glass and silver. In
the center of each table was a small pot of graceful ferns, while
throughout the car there were fine hangings, beautifully inlaid wood,
and on the floor a soft carpet. It was, indeed, a fine traveling hotel.
At the tables, not all of which were occupied, were seated beautiful
women, some handsomely gowned, and there were men, attired in the
height of fashion. For the first time Roy felt rather ashamed of his
ordinary "store" clothes, which were neither properly cut, nor of good
material.
"Here is a good table," said Mr. Baker, indicating one about the center
of the car.
Roy took his seat opposite his new acquaintance, a queer feeling of
nervousness overcoming him.
"I'd rather ride a bucking bronco any day, than be here," the boy
thought. But he was not going to back out now. He knew he had the
money to pay for whatever he ordered, and, he reflected that if he was
not as stylishly dressed as the others, he was probably more hungry
than any of them, for he had an early breakfast.
As soon as Roy and Mr. Baker were seated, a colored waiter glided
swiftly to their table and filled their glasses from a curiously shaped
vessel, called a "caraffe," which looked something like a bottle or
flask, with a very large body, and a very small neck. Inside was a
solid lump of ice, which made the water cold. Roy looked curiously at
the piece of frozen crystal. Mr. Baker noted his look of astonishment.
"Don't you like ice water?" he asked.
"Yes, but I was wondering how in the world they ever got that big hunk
of ice through the little neck of that bottle."
"Oh," exclaimed Mr. Baker with a laugh, "they first fill the caraffe
with water, and then they freeze it in an ice machine they have on the
train for keeping the other supplies from spoiling. It would be rather
difficult to put that chunk of ice down through that narrow neck."
Roy understood now. He began to think he had lots to learn of the
world, but there was more coming. The waiter placed a menu card in
front of Mr. Baker, and laid one at Roy's plate. He knew what they
were, for he had several times taken dinner at a small hotel at Painted
Stone.
He was not prepared however for the queer language in which the menu
card or bill of fare was printed. It was French, and the names of the
most ordinary dishes were in that foreign tongue.
Roy was puzzled. He wanted a substantial meal, but he did not know how
to order it. He was afraid to try to pronounce the odd looking words,
and I am afraid if he had done so he would have made a mistake, as,
indeed, better educated persons than he would have done. He had a wild
notion of telling the waiter to bring everything on the bill of fare,
but there seemed to be too many dishes.
Finally he decided on a course to pursue. The waiter was standing
there, polite and all attention, for, though Roy's clothes did not
impress him as indicating a lad of wealth, Mr. Baker's attire was showy
enough to allow the colored man to think he might receive a handsome
tip.
"I think I'll have a ham sandwich and a cup of coffee," said Roy in
desperation. He knew he was safe in ordering that, even if it was not
on the card, though it might have been for all he knew, disguised under
some odd name.
Mr. Baker looked surprised.
"I should say you hadn't any appetite," he remarked. Then, as he
understood the situation, and Roy's embarrassment, he said: "Suppose I
order for both of us? I am used to this sort of thing."
Roy was grateful for this delicate way of putting it, and, with a sigh
of relief, he replied:
"I wish you would. I guess I've got a good appetite after all."
Thereupon Mr. Baker ordered a simple but substantial meal, including
soup, fish, roast beef, potatoes and side dishes of vegetables, ending
up with coffee and pie.
"This is fine!" exclaimed Roy, when he had finished. "I s'pose they
charge about two dollars for grub like this?"
Several persons in the dining car smiled, for Roy was used to shouting
at cattle, and calling to cowboys, and had acquired a habit of speaking
in rather loud tones.
"No, this 'grub' will cost you one dollar," said Mr. Baker.
"Well, it's worth it," declared the boy, pulling out quite a roll of
bills, for his father had been generous. At the sight of the money a
greedy look came into the eyes of Mr. Baker, a look that would have
warned Roy had he seen it. But he was busy looking for a one-dollar
bill among the fives and tens.
"Now, if you're ready we'll go back to the parlor car, and have a cigar
in the smoking room," suggested Mr. Baker.
"No, thank you. Not for mine. I don't smoke."
"Well, it is a useless habit I suppose, but I am too old to change now.
I'll join you presently," and the man went into a small compartment at
one end of the parlor car, when they reached it, leaving Roy to go to
his chair alone.
Had the boy seen the three men whom Mr. Baker greeted in the smoking
room, perhaps our hero would not have been quite so ready to continue
his acquaintance with the man. For, in the little apartment were three
individuals whose faces did not indicate any too much honesty, and
whose clothes were on the same "flashy" order as were Mr. Baker's,
though none of the trio had as expensive jewelry as had Roy's new
friend.
"Well, sport, how about you?" asked one of the men. "Did you manage to
pick up anything?"
"Not so loud, Ike," cautioned Mr. Baker, addressing the man who had
spoken, and whose name was Isaac Sutton. "I think I can put you on the
track of something."
"Something good?" asked the third man, who was known as Jerome Hynard,
though that was not his real name.
"We want it with plenty of cash," added the last man, who was called
Dennison Tupper.
"This is a green kid, right from the ranch, going to New York," said
Phelan Baker. "He's got quite a wad of money, and if you work the game
right you may be able to get the most of it. I'll tell you how."
Then the four began to whisper, for they were laying a plot and were
afraid of being overheard. All unconscious of the danger that
threatened him, Roy was back in the parlor car, enjoying the scenery,
and thinking of the many strange things he would see in New York.
For some reason Mr. Baker did not come back where Roy was. Perhaps he
feared the boy might be suspicious of his sudden friendship, for Mr.
Baker was a good reader of character, and he saw that Roy, in spite of
his lack of experience, was a shrewd lad.
As for the young traveler, he began to get tired. He was unused to
sitting still so long, and riding in a soft chair was very different
from being on the back of the swift pony, galloping over the plains.
"I wonder what they're going to do about bunks?" thought Roy, as he
looked about the car. "I don't fancy sleeping on these chairs, and
I've heard they made the seats in the coaches up into bunks."
Roy had never seen a sleeping car, and imagined the coach he was in was
one. He decided he would ask the porter about it soon, if he saw no
signs of the beds being made up. He had his supper alone at a table in
the dining car, Mr. Baker remaining with his three cronies, and out of
Roy's sight. Profiting by his experience at dinner, the boy knew how
to order a good meal.
To his relief, soon after he got back to the parlor car, the porter who
had first spoken to him, came up and announced:
"Youh berth will be ready any time youh want it, sah."
"Berth?"
"Yais, sah."
Roy did not know exactly what was meant. At the ranch that word was
never used, a bed being a "bunk."
"I don't think I care for any," said Roy, deciding that was the safest
way.
"What's that, sah? Youh ain't goin to sit up all night, be youh?
Mighty uncomfortable, sah. Better take a bed. Youh ticket calls fo'
one, sah."
"Oh, you mean a bunk?"
"Bunk! Ha! Ha! Youh western gen'men gwine to hab youh joke, I see.
We calls 'em berths, sah."
"Is mine ready?"
"Jest as soon as youh want it. Youh can go back in de sleeping car."
This Roy understood. He went back two coaches toward the rear, as
directed by the porter, and found himself in still another kind of car.
This had big plush seats, like small couches, facing each other, while,
overhead, was a sort of sloping ceiling.
"I don't see where there are many bunks here," the boy remarked to
himself. He saw persons sitting in the seats, talking, and, finding
one unoccupied, he took possession of it. Soon a porter came in to
him, examined his ticket, and asked:
"Do youh wish youh berth made up now, sah?"
"Guess I might as well," replied Roy, wondering where the porter was
going to get the bed from, and whether he was going to produce it from
some unseen source, as a conjurer pulls rabbits out of tall hats.
"Ef youh jest kindly take the next seat, I'll make up your berth," said
the porter, and Roy moved back one place, but where he could still
watch the colored man.
That individual then proceeded to make up the berth. While the process
is familiar to many of my young readers, it was a novelty to Roy. With
much wonder he watched the man lift up the cushions of the seats, take
out blankets and pillows from the hollow places, and then slide the two
bottoms of the seats together until they made a level place.
Then what Roy had thought to be merely a slanting part of the ceiling
was pulled down, revealing a broad shelf, that formed the upper berth
or bed. On this shelf were sheets, blankets and other things needed
for the beds. In a short time Roy saw made before his eyes, where
there had been only seats before, a comfortable "bunk" with pillows,
white sheets, blankets, curtains hanging down in front and all complete.
"Now youh can turn in," said the porter with a smile, as he began to
make up another berth. Roy decided to wait a while, until he saw how
other men travelers undressed, and when he saw one man retire behind
the curtains, and, sitting on the edge of his berth, take off his
shoes, and the heavier parts of his clothing, Roy did likewise. Thus
the difficult problem of getting to bed was solved.