there issued from his lips the stifled cry of
"Mur-r-rder!"

"Fo' de lan's sake!" exclaimed the porter, dropping his stool and
grabbing the fat passenger by the shoulder. "I suah 'nough thunk
somebody was bein' choked to deaf. Wake up, Mistah White Man! Ain't
nobody a-murderin' of yo' but yo'self."

The fat man's eyes opened wide at that and he glared around. He saw the
face of the porter at last and blinked his eyes for a moment. Then he
sighed.

"I--I guess I was asleep. Must have been dreaming," he stammered
gruffly.

"Say, Mistah!" the porter replied, "if yo' sleep like dat always, you
bettah have a car by yo'self. For yo' ain't goin' to let nobody else
sleep in peace. Turn over! Yo's on your back."

Russ and Laddie could only stare, and some of the other passengers began
to open their curtains and ask questions of the porter. The fat man
grabbed his own curtain away from the colored man and quickly shut
himself in again.

"All right! All right!" said the porter, picking up his stool and going
back to his place. "Ain't nobody killed yet. Guess we goin' to have
peace now fo' a while."

Daddy Bunker awoke too and sent his little folks back to bed, and Russ
and Laddie did not wake up again till broad daylight. They had to tell
the other little Bunkers before breakfast about what had happened; but
they never saw the fat man again, for he left the train at a station
quite early.

There were other things to interest the little Bunkers. In the first
place, it began to rain soon after they got up. A rainy day at home was
no great cross for the children to bear. There was always the attic to
play in. But on the train, with the rain beating against the windows and
not much to see as the train hurried on, the children began to grow
restless.

It was reported that the heavy rains ahead of them had done some damage
to the railroad, and the speed of the train was reduced until, by the
middle of the forenoon, it seemed only to creep along. The conductor,
who came through the car once in a while, told them that there were
"washouts" on the road.

"What's washouts?" demanded Vi. "Is it clothes on clotheslines, like
Norah's washlines? Why don't they take the wash in when it rains so?"

She really had to be told what "washout" meant, or she would have given
daddy and mother no peace at all. And the other children were interested
in the possibility that the train might be halted by a big hole in the
ground where the tra