sleeper, except that the upper berths had narrow windows looking
out from them. Across each berth was stretched a strong piece
of twine.

Phil asked the porter what the string was for.

"To hang your trousers on, sah," was the enlightening answer.
"There's hooks for the rest of your clothes just outside
the berths."

"This looks pretty good to me," said Phil, peering out through
the screened window of his berth.

"Reminds me of when I used to go to sleep in the woodbox behind
the stove where I lived last year in Edmeston," grumbled Teddy
in a muffled voice, as he rummaged about his berth trying to
accustom himself to it. Teddy never had ridden in a sleeping
car, so it was all new and strange to him.

"Say, who sleeps upstairs?" he called to the porter.

"The performers, sah--some of them. This heah is the performers'
car, sah."

"How do they get up there? On a rope ladder?"

Phil shouted.

"You ninny, this isn't a circus performance. No; of course they
don't climb up on a rope ladder as if they were starting a