hurt you."

I thanked him again and declined, sitting back and watching him as he
smoked on seeming to enjoy his cigar, and made a remark or two about the
beautiful night and the stars as the train dashed on.

After a time he took out a flask, slipped off the plated cup at the
bottom, and unscrewed the top, pouring out afterward some clear-looking
liquid.

"Have a drink?" he said, offering me the flask-cup; but I shook my head.

"No, thank you," I said; and somehow I began thinking of the water I had
drunk at the works, and which had made me so terribly sleepy.

I don't know how it was, but I did think about that, and it was in my
mind as he said laughingly:

"What! Not drink a little drop of mild stuff like that? Well, you are
a fellow! Why it's like milk."

He seemed to toss it off.

"Better have a drop," he said.

I declined.

"Nonsense! Do," he cried. "Do you good. Come, have a drink."

He grew more persistent, but the more persistent he was the more I
shrank from the cup he held in his hand; and at last I felt sorry, for
he seemed so kind that it was ungracious of me to refuse him so simple a
request.

"Oh, very well!" he said, "just as you like. There will be the more for
me."

He laughed, nodded, and drank the contents of the cup before putting the
screw-top on the flask, thrusting it in his breast-pocket, and then
making a cushion of his railway wrapper he lay at full length upon the
cushion, and seemed to compose himself to sleep.

It was such a good example that, after a few minutes' silence, I did the
same, and lay with my eyes half-closed, listening to the dull rattle of
the train, and thinking of the works at Arrowfield, and what a good job
it was that I spoke to Uncle Bob about the trap.

Then I hoped he would not be incautious and hurt himself in letting off
the spring.

I looked across at my fellow-traveller, who seemed to be sleeping
soundly, and the sight of his closed eyes made mine heavy, and no
wonder, for every other night I had been on guard at the works, and that
seemed to shorten my allowance of sleep to a terrible degree.

I knew there could be no mistake, for I was going as far as the train
went, and the guard would be sure to wake me up if I was fast asleep.

And how satisfactory it seemed to be lying there on the soft cushions
instead of walking about the works and the yard the previous night. I
was growing more and more sleepy, the motion of the train serving