“it’s only six o’clock. go back to sleep, you’ll wake everybody in the car,” exclaimed phil, aroused from his slumbers by his brother’s contortions as he dressed in their cramped section.
“i won’t if you stop talking. besides, i want to see as much of the country through which we are passing as i can.”
the prospect of new scenes interested the elder boy, and he, too, began to dress.
“instead of being the first ones up, we’re the last ones,” announced ted, withdrawing his head through the section curtains, after a look up and down the car.
such was, indeed, the fact, and as they emerged from their compartment, they were greeted by the grey-haired man opposite.
“i’ve heard some of your conversation,” he smiled. “if you’re going to be successful farmers, you’ll have to get up earlier than this. i’ve been a farmer all my life, and there isn’t a time i can remember, since i was big enough to carry a pail, that i wasn’t up at four-thirty, summer or winter.”
“but what did you do? you couldn’t begin to farm so early,” returned ted.
“chores,” answered the man. “cows must be fed before they are milked and the other stock must be attended to. the earlier a man gets his chores done, the more time he can give to his farm. i’ve no patience with these fellows who don’t get through with their chores till the middle of the forenoon.”
“but you didn’t have any cows to milk this morning. i should think you would have indulged in the luxury of a late sleep,” laughed phil.
“i just couldn’t. it was four-fifteen when i looked at my watch and i grew so fidgety i had to get up. marthy, can’t you give these young gentlemen some of your good coffee?” turning, the boys beheld a plump little woman, from whose face and eyes kindness and good nature radiated, hurrying down the aisle with a steaming coffee-pot in her hand.
“to be sure, i can, silas.” then, beaming on the young homesteaders, she said:
“just bring your cups. after i’d made it. i knew there was more’n twice as much as silas and i could drink.”
“we haven’t any cups, though we thank you just the same,” returned phil.
“no cups? land sakes, what did you expect to drink out of?” cried the woman in dismay, subjecting the boys to a penetrating scrutiny.
“guess they haven’t made the trip across the plains as many times as we have, marthy,” interposed her husband.
“this is our first time,” explained ted.
“land sakes, i thought because you knew enough to travel in a ‘tourist’ you’d been out before. if you haven’t cups, then i don’t suppose you have anything but boughten pies, cake and such like,” sighed the woman.
“we haven’t even those,” smiled phil.
“then how did you expect to eat—beg from those as provided?” she asked.
“easy, marthy, easy,” protested the man the boys knew only as silas.
“i can’t help it. i’ve no patience with people who—”
“we intend to get our meals in the dining-car,” hastily interposed ted.
“must have money to throw away,” opined the man.
“we haven’t, but we did not know about bringing any food or things with us.”
the fact that the young homesteaders did not purpose sponging meals from their fellow passengers quickly re-established them in the motherly woman’s eyes, and, reaching under a seat, she drew forth a hamper from which she produced cups, plates, knives, forks, and spoons.
“now i’m not going to let you boys throw away your money in that dining-car. i don’t know your names or anything about you, but you look likely and that’s enough for me.” quickly phil introduced himself and ted, telling their new friends briefly about their home and the purpose of their trip.
“our name is hopkins,” returned the woman, fairly bubbling over with sympathetic interest in the young homesteaders. “i am glad we started yesterday instead of today, silas. you can give these boys lots of points. one of our sons has a big farm in idaho. now you just sit down and i’ll go back and get the rest of the breakfast.” and mrs. hopkins bustled away to the forward part of the car, where the boys beheld a half-dozen other women, their best—and uncomfortable—clothes of the day before changed for easy-fitting gingham dresses.
“this is our sixth trip out, so you see we know the ropes,” explained mr. hopkins. “when our sons and daughters travel with us—we’ve got five scattered from california to idaho—they make us ride in the parlour cars, but marthy and i prefer the tourists; she says the folks ain’t so stuck up and that our money and things are safer.”
when he had first spoken about early rising, phil had decided that mr. hopkins was an unsuccessful eastern farmer making a last desperate bid for fortune by going west. but as he heard him tell of the many trips across the continent and of his family, he recalled vividly dr. blair’s words about judging by appearances.
looking down the aisle, ted saw mrs. hopkins bustling about an oil stove, and soon she came toward them with two large plates.
“i always bring ham, it keeps better,” she explained, as she set the plates, the other of which contained fried potatoes, on the table her husband had improvised.
“but i didn’t know they allowed passengers to cook,” exclaimed phil.
“that’s the beauty of a tourist car,” returned mr. hopkins. “many a time when i have gone into a diner and tasted the messes they set before me, i’ve wished i was in a tourist where i could have some of marthy’s cooking.”
“i don’t wonder, it’s bully,” declared ted, as he ate heartily. “we must write momsy and the girls to come by a tourist car, so they can do their own cooking.”
“and i’ll give you a list of things to send them, things i’ve found keep all right, so they won’t buy food that will spoil,” offered mrs. hopkins.
“thank you, and now isn’t there something we can do to return your kindness?” asked phil, when the simple but satisfying breakfast had been eaten.
“you may wash the dishes,” smiled the kindly woman. “that’s silas’ job, but he doesn’t like it very well.”
“we shall be glad to, only you must tell us where to do it,” said ted.
“just go down to my oil stove. i left some water on it to heat. i’ll give you soap, a dishcloth, and towels;” and again mrs. hopkins began rummaging in the hamper, finally producing the required articles.
picking up the dishes, the boys put them in a basket and started. four or five young people were already busy at similar tasks, and as ted and phil joined them, they greeted them pleasantly.
awkwardly and with much embarrassment the boys set about their work.
“ouch!” cried phil, snatching his hand from the saucepan of water into which he had put a cup.
“here, let me show you. i guess you don’t know much about dish-washing,” laughed a pretty girl at the next stove.
“it seems that we don’t,” returned phil, looking at his still smarting hand.
“first of all, put out the flame of your stove, then get some cold water from the tank and cool that in the saucepan,” directed their assistant.
the fact that they were fellow passengers broke down all barriers of reserve, and by the time the dishes had been washed, the young people were talking of their homes and their hopes.
“i’m so glad you are going to washington,” said the girl who had come to the young homesteaders’ rescue. “i was afraid tom and i would be the only young people on the car, but now you’re going through, we can have a jolly time.”
and a jolly time they had, talking, playing cards, building air-castles, and discussing farm problems, in the latter of which mr. hopkins joined and gave them much valuable advice.
after the second day of riding through endless acres of land upon which the wheat was just sprouting, the novelty wore away, giving place to that feeling of monotony which the undulating plains bring to easterners.
“i should like to see a mountain or even a hill,’ exclaimed ted, petulantly.
“mountains! you easterners don’t know what mountains are,” returned mr. hopkins. “just wait until you see the rockies. you’ll think your little mountains are hills.”
“well, i’d like to see them, just the same. they are better than these everlasting plains.”
“a bit homesick, eh? just remember that if it weren’t for these plains, there wouldn’t be enough grain in the country to supply the congested east with flour and things, making the cost of living still higher.”
“i didn’t mean to be disagreeable, mr. hopkins, but we’ve had nothing but plains for forty-eight hours. i’d like to see something new, or have something happen.” and getting up, the boy strolled restlessly down the car, pausing to say a word to his new acquaintances, finally, the desire for a change still upon him, passing into the next car.
though this was also a tourist coach, ted quickly noticed the occupants were anything but prepossessing, and he was thanking his stars that phil and he were located in the other car when a man spoke to him.
“sit down and talk to me,” he commanded. “i’m pretty nigh ‘loco’ for the want of some one to swap words with, but there ain’t no one in here i’d speak to.”
the man himself was not a person one would have selected as a travelling companion, being badly in need of a shave and clad in clothes none too clean. but despite his dislike of the fellow, ted remembered his criticism of phil’s snobbishness and dropped into the seat.
“i can see you ain’t a ‘prairie dog.’ going out west for a visit?” began the stranger.
“no. my brother and i intend to take up a homestead.”
“hope you have plenty of money.”
“why?”
“because it takes a pile to get started.”
“how do you mean? the fees for filing an entry are only ten dollars for one hundred and sixty acres.”
“it’s the other things that count, farming tools, horses, men to help build your house and barns and to work your land.”
“what makes you think so?”
“i don’t think, i know. ten years ago, i came out, full of making a fortune, just like you, and taking up a homestead. i had fifteen hundred dollars. inside of ten months it was gone; then i lost my claim. the west ain’t no place for a poor man.”
“but you are still out here.”
“because i ain’t got enough money to go back east. by working here and there, i manage to keep alive. not much like the fortune i set out to make, what?”
to ted’s mood such conversation did not bring relief and he made no reply. several times the man asked him pointed questions as to his destination and plans, but the boy’s answers were evasive and, finally, tiring of the attempts to extract information, he arose and returned to his own car, where he sulked until bedtime.
“who’s there? what do you want?” cried phil, suddenly awakened by a coat falling on his head. “is that you, ted?”
the fact that it was not his brother who had caused the coat’s fall was soon established by the latter’s asking:
“what is it?”
“my coat fell down and woke me.”
in an instant ted was on his knees in the berth, feeling along the hooks where their clothing had hung.
“mine’s gone!” he cried.
the other passengers had been aroused by the young homesteaders’ exclamations, and from several sections came demands of “what’s wrong?”
“some one has taken my coat!” returned ted.
“lock the doors of the car!” called mr. hopkins, then added: “what’s the matter with the lights?”
“they are out,” responded a woman.
“we’ll all be robbed!” wailed another.
aroused to the seriousness of the situation, all the passengers hurriedly donned clothes and quickly gathered in the aisle, talking excitedly.
“this won’t do. somebody light a lamp,” ordered mr. hopkins.
instantly matches flickered, seemingly from all directions, and soon three of the lamps were lighted.
“are the doors locked?” called some one.
“it’s too late now. the thief’s had plenty of time to get out of the car,” answered another. but notwithstanding this statement, several men and women rushed to both ends of the car.
“here’s the coat—on the floor!” cried one of those who had gone forward.
forcing his way along the aisle, ted seized the garment and hastily felt in the inside pocket.
“my bill-fold and some letters are gone!” he gasped.
