The next instant I struck the floor with a force that nearly stunned
me. When I gathered my wits together I found myself in the middle of
the aisle, bruised and sore, with the bandbox on top of me.

We had been going with the usual terrific speed of a fast express,
down steep mountain grades, sweeping around dizzy curves, and now we
had come to a sudden stop without reason or warning. It gave the train
such a tremendous jar that windows rattled, baggage lurched from the
racks, the porter sprawled full-length on the floor as I had done, and
more than one head was bumped unmercifully against the hard woodwork
of the berths. Everybody sprang up to ask what was the matter. Babies
cried and women scolded and men swore. All I could do was to whimper
with pain and fright until Stuart came scrambling after me. My
shoulder was bruised and my head aching, and no one can imagine my
terrible fright at such a rude awakening. If I had not been in the
box, I might have saved myself when the crash came, but I was
powerless to catch at anything when it went bump over on to the floor.

The brakeman and conductor came running in to see what was the matter.
Nobody knew why the train had stopped. It was several minutes before
they discovered the cause, but I had found out while Stuart was
climbing back to bed with me. Swinging by her hands from the bell-rope
which ran down the centre of the car, was that miserable little
monkey, Matches, making a fool of herself and everybody else. Who but
that little imp of mischief would have done such a thing as to get up
in the middle of the night and go through a lot of gymnastic
exercises on the bell-rope? It was her swinging and jerking on the
rope that rang the bell and brought the engine to that sudden stop.

I don't know how the doctor settled it with the conductor. I know that