thought I
might as well take a nap. It would be safe to sleep for an hour, or even
two, and I was tired with my day's travel. Of course I was asleep in no
time. My, how good it felt!--a private car all to myself, soft sofa to
sleep on, nobody to bother me."

[Illustration: "WELL, SIR, IT WAS ENOUGH TO MAKE A BOY'S HAIR TURN
GRAY."]

"Suddenly something woke me up. I didn't know where I was at first, but
it came back to me in a minute, and I was awfully cold. A little scared,
too, for if I had slept any longer I might have been carried past Winter
Park, and a pretty thing that would have been. I jumped up and looked
out, but it was too dark to see anything much. We were running very
slow, and I thought by the way things looked we were just getting into a
station. So I sat down by the window and watched, and, sure enough, we
were just about to stop. When we did stop, my car stood right square in
front of the bay-window of a station. And what do you think I saw? Well,
sir, it was enough to make a boy's hair turn gray. There was a big sign
on the front of the building, WAYCROSS; and the clock inside the window
said 4.35.

"Then I knew I was in for it; for Waycross, you know, is in Georgia,
about half-way between Jacksonville and Savannah, and nearly three
hundred miles above Winter Park. Instead of taking a little nap, I had
slept for eight or nine hours, and I was three hundred miles away from
my friends, without a cent in my pocket. My first thought was to get
out, but while I had my hand on the door-knob I thought better of it.
What would become of me if I got out? I had no money to go home
with--not even a cent to telegraph to my folks with. Go to the
conductor, do you say? You see, we were on an entirely different
railroad from the one we started on, and had a different conductor, of
course. This one wouldn't know anything about me, and probably would not
believe my story.

"It was a pretty tough place, wasn't it? Private car, soft sofa, fine
rugs, great style, and not a cent of money. While I was trying to make
up my mind what to do, the train started. But that was all right; for
somehow I couldn't get it out of my head that the best thing I could do
was to stick to the car. You see, I figured it this way: when I didn't
come home at nine o'clock, they'd begin to worry about me. They'd
telegraph to the superintendent, and he'd understand how it was, and
telegraph along the line, and have me found and sent home.