As he stepped over the side of the trunk he staggered
feebly. Then, making out an open window and a pail of drinking water on
a bench near it, he made a swift dive in that direction.
First the man stuck his head out of the window and drew in great
draughts of pure, fresh air.
Then he seized the tin cup near the pail. He dipped up the water and
drank cupful after cupful until Bart eyed him in some alarm.
"Ah--h!" breathed the man in a long aspiration of relief and enjoyment,
"that's better. Say, ten minutes more and there would have been no
Professor Rigoletto."
As he spoke he went back to the trunk. He took out a long gossamer rain
coat that had been used as a pillow. This he proceeded to put on.
It came to his feet. He buttoned it up, drew a jaunty crush cap from one
of its pockets, and grinned pleasantly into the face of the petrified
Peter Pope.
"See here!" blurted out the Cardysville express agent, "this
isn't--isn't regular. It isn't schedule, you know."
"I hope not--sincerely," airily retorted the stranger. "Fifty miles on a
slow train, three hours waiting in a close trunk. Ah, no. But I've
arrived.
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