The fine coach was a revelation to Billy Dill, who, in the past, had traveled exclusively in the ordinary day cars.
"These here seats are better nor them in a barber shop," he observed. "An' thet little smoking-room is the handiest I ever see. But, boys, we made one big mistake," he added, suddenly.
"What's that?" asked Phil.
"Unless we tie up to an eatin' house on the way, we'll be starved. Nobody brung any grub along."
"Don't worry about that," said Roger, with a wink at the others. "I think I can scrape up some crackers and cheese somewhere."
"Well, that's better—although I allow as how we could have brought some ham sandwiches as well as not."
They had all had dinner, so nobody was hungry until about six o'clock, when a waiter from the dining-car came through in his white apron.
"First call to supper!"
"Wot's thet?" queried Billy Dill.
"Come and see," answered Dave, and led the way to the dining-car. When the old sailor saw the tables, and saw some folks eating as if at home, he stared in amazement.
"Well, keelhaul me, if this don't beat the Dutch!" he ejaculated, dropping into a chair pointed out to him. "Reg'lar hotel dinin'-room on wheels, ain't it? Never heard o' such a thing in
