"Wy," said Fatty, "it's nothin' but a ---- ole steer-train! Ev'ry blasted car is full of 'em."
I suggested that we wait for another, but he would not listen to me.
"No, sir. If we break our necks, we'll ride that train."
"But where are you going to ride?" I queried.
I knew that it was useless to argue with him, and followed him up the ladder. We sat down on the top of a car, with the rain simply pouring down upon us. Pretty soon the whistle tooted and the train started. As we pulled out of the yards the brakeman came over the train, and espied me instantly.
"Hello, Shorty!" he said, in a jovial way. "Where you goin'?"
"Oh, just up the road a bit. No objections, have you?"
"No, I guess I ain't got no objections. But say, you lads are big fools."
"Here, here!" said Fatty, angrily. "Who you callin' fools?"
"I'm callin' you fools, 'n' y' are, too."
"See here," continued Fatty; "if you call me a fool agen I'll put yer face in--I will, by gosh!" and he stood up to make good his threat.
"Don't get 'uffy; don't get 'uffy," said the brakey, soothingly. "Lemme tell you somethin'. See them hay-boxes over there on the corner o' the car?"
"Hay-boxes!" exclaimed Fatty, and he looked at me in surprise.
We followed him to the end of the car, and there, true enough, after he had lifted the lid, was a most comfortable hay-box, nearly full of nice soft hay.
Fatty was almost wild with delight, and patting me on the back, said:
"W'y, Cig, this is a perfect palace-car, ain't it! Gosh!"
The brakeman held his lantern while I got into the box. The opening was not very large, hardly more than a foot wide--plenty large enough for me, it is true, but I was much smaller than Fatty. When he tried to get in there was some trouble. His head and shoulders went through all right, but then he stopped, for his paunch was the broadest part of him, and he complained that "it pinched ter'bly." Exactly what to do was a poser, but finally he nerved himself for another squeeze. He twisted, slipped, and grunted, and at last had to beg me to hold his head and steer him, so helpless had his exertions made him. I guided him as best I could, and pretty soon he came "ka-plunk," as he called it, on the hay. The brakey closed the lid and left.