"'Aw, good eveling!' says Sam. "'Good eveling,' says the man i' black, an' nods t'wards the chest. 'How's deceased?' "'Gettin' a bit costly,' answers Sam, 'but doin' purty well, consederin'. You'm wantin' more fees, I reckon'; an' wi' that he dives hes hand into hes trowsy-pocket. "'I don't want no fees,' says the man. "Sam was knacked 'pon a heap wi' this. "'Well, then, you'm the fust man I've a-met in Spain as doesn',' he says. "That ain't onlikely,' says the man; and Sam noticed for the fust time that he'd a-been speakin' English all along. 'I be a-travellin', same as you,' he adds. "'You'll 'scuse me, sir, but this compartment es resarved.' "'That's a pity,' says the stranger, ''cos the train's a-started.' "So 'twas. Sam hadn' a-noticed et, but they was movin' on. Hows'ever, he detarmined to make the best o't; so he ups and says, perlite-like-- "'Terrable hot weather this, ain't et, sir?' Somehow et seemed to Sam as ef et had got hotter sence the stranger comed in. "'I don't feel so mighty hot,' says the man. 'But there, I've a-been a gude deal in hot countries. How's deceased takin' the journey?' says he. "'He ain't complainin'; but, then, in life he warn't a complainin' sort. Aw, sir, but a man must be over-nice ef a fun'ral like thes don't satisfy 'n. Phew! but 'tes awful!' "'What's awful?' "'The heat,' answers Sam, moppin' his forehead; 'but I s'pose you'm a traveller, an' 'customed to heat.' "'Why, iss,' says t'other, 'I do travel a purty passel to an' fro 'pon th' earth. Few folks travels more'n me.' "Well, et kep' gettin' hotter an' hotter; an' Sam cussed an' mopped, an' mopped an' cussed, an' all the time the stranger were cool an' aisy. He kep' axin', too, 'bout th' ould Commodore an' hes past life, an' 'peared to take interes' in Sam, an' altogither seemed a proper gen'l'm'n. An' all the time et kep' gettin' hotter an' hotter, till Sam were fairly runnin' to waste wi' sweatin'. At las' he pops hes head out'n the windey for fresh air, an' cries out-- "'Hulloa! here's a stashun.' "Well, the train pulls up, an' Sam says to the stranger-- "'Look 'ee here. Wud 'ee mind keepin' your eye 'pon th' ould man while I runs out to get a drink? I reckoned I knawed thirst afore this,' he says, 'but I were mistook.' "The stranger was very willin', and away Sam goes. "He warn't away more'n a minnit; but when he comes back an' takes a look at the platform, my! Sir! there warn't no trace of the train to be seen--not a vestment. You see, they don't blaw no whissle in Spain when the train goes; an' there was poor Sam left stranded.