I have some sort of a youngster in my berth with me," was the
low, laughing answer. "I had a dream that my pet dog had climbed in bed
with me, as he sometimes does when I'm at home. In my sleep I put out my
hand and I felt some soft, curly head. Then I happened to think, in my
dream, that my dog is an Airedale, and they don't exactly have soft,
silky hair.

"Then I woke up, reached under my pillow for my flash-light, and pressed
the switch. There I saw a small boy asleep with me. Maybe he's the one
you want."

"Oh, it must be Mun Bun!" exclaimed Mrs. Bunker. "Look quick, Charles!"

Mr. Bunker went down to the berth whence the man with the night-cap had
spoken. There, surely enough, peacefully sleeping in the strange bed,
was Mun Bun.

"Yes, that's my boy," said Daddy Bunker. "Sorry he bothered you."

"Shucks, he didn't bother me a mite!" said the good-natured man. "I used
to have a little tot like him myself, but he's grown up now, and gone
to war. I'm old and bald-headed--that's why I wear this night-cap, on
account of my bald head," he went on. "But I'm not too old to like
children. You can let him stay here until morning if you wish. He won't
bother me."

"No, thank you," said Mr. Bunker. "He might wake up and be frightened if
he found himself in a strange bed. I'll carry him back with me. Thank
you just the same."

Daddy Bunker picked up Mun Bun, still sleeping, and the little fellow
never awakened. His father took him back to his own berth. Uncle Fred
got into his and Mrs. Bunker went back to sleep beside Margy.

Mun Bun never awakened as his father carried him back, but slept on.
Only he murmured something in his dreams about "pony rides."

"You shall have some when you get to Uncle Fred's ranch," whispered
Daddy Bunker, as he softly kissed the little sleeping fellow. And Mun
Bun was once more tucked in the bed where he belonged.

In the morning the other little Bunkers were told of the funny thing
that had happened to Mun Bun in the night. The little fellow himself
knew nothing about it.

"He must have walked in his sleep," said his mother, "though I never
knew him to do that before."

And that is probably what happened.

Mun Bun, not used to sleeping in moving trains, had probably twisted and
turned in the night, and, being restless, he had gotten out of the bed
where he was with his father. If he was awake he did not remember it. He
must have toddled down the aisle of the car, all by himself, a