One thing sure, those auto thieves weren't on our train; they didn't get on at any of those three places, Ozone Valley or Ridgeboro or Skiddyunk. The two sheriffs got off at Skiddyunk again, to keep a watch when the late train came through. The Skiddyunk Station was all dark. As we left it the wheels kept saying, "s'long, s'long," and pretty soon we couldn't see it at all, and I knew that the country where we had had so much fun was way back there in the dark and that probably we'd never see it any more.

That was a single-track railroad and as we stood on the back platform, we could see the two shiny rails going away back into the dark.

"Let's go and sit down," I said; "I'm tired."

We had a shoe box full of eats that the girls at Camp Smile Awhile had given us and, yum, yum, those sandwiches were good.

Pretty soon a brakeman came staggering through, holding onto the seats. He had a red lantern and he hung it on the back platform. "So's the flyer won't bunk her nose into us," he said.

"Reg'lar private car, you kids got," he said.

I said, "When do you think we'll get to Bridgeboro, New Jersey?"

"Depends on the out trains from New York," he said; "we get in about three. No telling how long you'll stand in the yards. If you're picked up pretty quick, you ought to be home in time for breakfast. But there's no telling with a dead special."

I said, "You don't call this car a dead one, do you? You ought to have seen the adventures it had."

He laughed and said, "A dead special is a pickup. It ain't carried straight through. It's picked up and laid down and picked up. See?"

"We should worry when we get home," I said.

"You'll get there," he said, nice and pleasant; "don't you worry."

"Worry?" Connie said. "That must be a Greek word; I never heard it."

He was an awful nice fellow, that brakeman.

Pretty soon we were all sprawling on the seats, started on our favorite indoor sport, jollying Pee-wee. The train went through a pretty wild country and sometimes we could look way down into deep valleys, and sometimes mountains went right up straight from the tracks and seemed like walls outside the windows.

Wig said, "To-morrow is Columbus Day."

"Right the first time," I told him; "I wish we weren't going to get home 'till Tuesday."

"What's the difference between Tuesday?" Connie wanted to know.

"Is it a conundrum?" I said.

"No, it's an adverb, I mean a proverb," he said.

"Tuesday and what?" Pee-wee shouted.

"Tuesday and nothing," Connie said; "just Tuesday. Ask me the answer to it."

"You're crazy," Pee-wee shouted; "what's the answer to it?"

Connie said, "There isn't any answer. Want to hear another? How many onions are there?"

"Where?" Pee-wee yelled.

"Anywhere," Connie said.

"That shows how much sense you have," the kid screamed.

I laughed so hard I nearly fell off the seat.

"What's the cause of tears?" Connie said right back at him.

"What?" Pee-wee asked him.

"Crying," Connie said. "Why is the sky blue?"

"Why is it?" the kid shouted.

"It isn't," Connie said; "look out of the window, it's black."

"That isn't a riddle," Pee-wee shouted.

"It's a fact," Connie said; "what's the answer to a question?"

"You make me tired," the kid screamed; "what kind of a question?"

"Any kind," Connie said; "how fast is a mile?"

"A mile isn't fast, you crazy Indian!" Pee-wee screamed at him. "That shows——"

"All right, how slow is it then?" Connie asked him. "Suppose I have my picture taken."

"Well, what?" the kid blurted out.

"Nothing," Connie said.

"You said, suppose you had your picture taken," Pee-wee screamed.

"All right, suppose I did; what of it?" Connie laughed.

"He's got a right to have his picture taken, hasn't he?" I said. "You can take mine if you'll bring it back."

"You're all crazy," Pee-wee shouted; "you don't know a riddle when you see one. Do you call those riddles? A riddle is something where you ask a question and the answer, kind of, means something else."

"Precisely," Westy said; "the same as somewhere is a place you get to, by going to it. Deny it if you can."

"Well, there's one place I'm going to," Connie said; "and that's asleep."

"If you don't mind, I'll go with you," Wig said.

I don't know how it is, but just before we turn in, we always have a lot of nonsense like that. I bet you think we're crazy. Pretty soon Westy and I were the only ones awake. He's so careful he never goes anywhere without thinking it over beforehand—not even to sleep. If he were going to go crazy, he'd have to think it all over beforehand and count ten first. Talk about watching your step; he has his chained. And he always remembers where he puts things, too. He never even loses his temper. I don't lose mine much, but gee whiz, I mislay it sometimes.