hen travelling
on the West Highland Railway I had forgotten! We had not passed
Potter's Bar before I decided that it would be impossible to sleep, so
I ferreted out the attendant and bribed him to put me into a
first-class carriage. Better still, he showed me into a sleeper. I was
dog-tired, and in ten minutes fell fast asleep. I awoke for a moment
or two as the train snorted into a station and drew up. I dozed again
for some time, and then the door of my sleeper opened and who should
look in but "the American."

"Say, I beg your pardon," he exclaimed apologetically. "My mistake."

"Not at all," I replied. "Where are we now?" For the train was still
standing.

"Edinburgh," he answered. "Just leaving. Sorry to disturb you."

I again assured him that there was no harm done, and he turned and
left me, the tassels of his Jaeger dressing-gown trailing after him.
Then I fell asleep again, and woke up as we left Whistlefield. I had
finished my wretched ablutions--for an early morning wash on a train
is always a wretched business--as we reached Crianlarich. I was not
long in claiming my breakfast; and when the passengers in the
refreshment-room had finished their coffee--which seems to be the time
when the train is due to leave, and not _vice-versa_, as might be
expected--the guard was standing on the platform, flag in hand, on the
point of blowing his whistle. Suddenly the head of the American shot
out of the window of his carriage--no other expression describes it.

"Say, conductor," he exclaimed angrily, "where's my breakfast?"

Surely Dennis had been right about the nationality.

"What name might it be, sir?" asked the guard.

"Hilderman--J. G. Hilderman. Ordered by telegraph."

"I'll see, sir," said the guard, dashing into the refreshment-room. It
did not seem to matter when the train started; but, after a further
heated argument, in which the official refused to wait while a couple
of eggs were being fried, Mr. Hilderman was supplied with a pot of
coffee, some cold ham, and dried toast, and we recommenced our belated
journey. I reached Fort William and changed on to the Mallaig train,
as did Mr. Hilderman, on whom, after the breakfast episode, I had
begun to look with an affectionate and admiring regard. The man who
can keep a train waiting in Great Britain while the guard gets him his
breakfast must be very human after all. Most of the way on the
beautiful journey through Lochaber I leaned with my head out of t