About this time, Little Jimmie Wellington, having completed more or less chaotic preparations for sleep, found that he had put on his pyjamas hindside foremost. After vain efforts to whirl round quickly and get at his own back, he put out a frowsy head, and called for help. "Say, Porter, Porter!" "I'm still on the train," answered the porter, coming into view. "You'll have to hook me up." The porter rendered what aid and correction he could in Wellington's hippopotamine toilet. Wellington was just wide enough awake to discern the undisturbed bridal-chamber. He whined: "Say, Porter, that rice-trap. Aren't they going to flop the rice-trap?" The porter shook his head sadly. "Don't look like that floppers a'goin' to flip. That dog-on bridal couple is done divorced a'ready!" CHAPTER XVI GOOD NIGHT, ALL! The car was settling gradually into peace. But there was still some murmur and drowsy energy. Shoes continued to drop, heads to bump against upper berths, the bell to ring now and then, and ring again and again. The porter paid little heed to it; he was busy making up number five (Ira Lathrop's berth) for Marjorie, who was making what preparations she could for her trousseauless, husbandless, dogless first night out. Finally the Englishman, who had almost rung the bell dry of electricity, shoved from his berth his indignant and undignified head. Once more the car resounded with the cry of "Pawtah! Pawtah!" The porter moved up with noticeable deliberation. "Did you ring, sah?" "Did I ring! Paw-tah, you may draw my tub at eight-thutty in the mawning." "Draw yo'--what, sah?" the porter gasped. "My tub." "Ba-ath tub?" "Bahth tub." "Lawdy, man. Is you allowin' to take a ba-ath in the mawnin'?" "Of course I am." "Didn't you have one befo' you stahted?" "How dare you! Of cawse I did." "Well, that's all you git." "Do you mean to tell me that there is no tub on this beastly train?" Wedgewood almost fell out of bed with the shock of this news. "We do not carry tubs--no, sah. There's a lot of tubs in San Francisco, though." "No tub on this train for four days!" Wedgewood sighed. "But whatever does one do in the meanwhile?" "One just waits. Yassah, one and all waits." "It's ghahstly, that's what it is, ghahstly." "Yassah," said the porter, and mumbled as he walked away, "but the weather is gettin' cooler." He finished preparing Marjorie's bunk, and was just suggesting that Mallory retreat to the smoking room while number three was made up, when there was a commotion in the corridor, and a man in checked overalls dashed into the car. His ear was slightly red, and he held at arm's length, as if it were a venomous monster, Snoozleums. And he yelled: "Say, whose durn dog is this? He bit two men, and he makes so much noise we can't sleep in the baggage car."