On toward evening the crowd was even bigger. That was because everybody was telling everybody else to see the Boy Scouts selling stamped cakes from their private car. We were a what-do-you-call-it--an institution. All of a sudden came the grand climax. I was just laying the last tenderflops on the boards and trying to scrape enough stuff out of the pan to make just two or three more, when I saw a wagon stop right alongside the car. Oh, please excuse me a minute while I laugh! Now we had seen that wagon most all afternoon, because a man was using it to cart sawdust from the ice-house and sprinkle it on the race-track. I suppose he did that on account of the races which were going to be at five o'clock. Anyway, he got down from his wagon and came over to the platform and said, "Let's try a couple of them floperetts I'm hearin' so much about." I said, "Is this your last load?" He said yes, it was, and that after he got it sprinkled on the track, he was coming back for more floperetts--that was what he called them. That man ate a whole board full and I called up to Pee-wee, "There isn't any more batter, so we're on the home stretch. Shout good and loud and tell them it's their last chance." Just at that very minute I heard a locomotive whistle. "Good night," I said; "I bet it's twenty-three for us." "What's the difference?" Westy said; "there's no more batter, anyway, and I'm tired out." "We have a coffee-pot full of money," I told him. After I had fried the last tenderflop, I went outside to take a good rest. It was hot working over that stove. Up on the car, Pee-wee was stamping back and forth, waving the pan and screaming for all he was worth. "Look!" I said to the fellows; "just take one look at him. Get your kodak, Westy." "_Only a few more left!_" Pee-wee was yelling. "_One cent while they last! None genuine_----" and so on, and so on. By that time I could see a freight train backing in toward us. It was coming very slow and a couple of men from it were running ahead to open the gates. It just crept along--hardly moved. There were men on top and one turning the brake handle. One of them called out, "Watch your step there, you kid!" "_They're all smoking hot!_" Pee-wee yelled, and never paid any attention to him. "Brace your feet, Sonny," the man shouted. Pee-wee didn't pay any attention, just kept marching up and down, waving the pan and yelling, "_There are no more tenderflops to be flopped! Your last chance! Get a flop_----" And then, good morning sister Jane, there was just a little bunk and there was Pee-wee swinging the saucepan and trying to balance himself on one leg. "_Get--get a flop----_" he was shouting. And then, all of a sudden, around he went, and off the roof, _kerflop_ into the load of sawdust. It was the end of a perfect day. CHAPTER XXXVIII ALL ABOARD