A walk of about ten minutes brought him to a high, roofed platform beside the tracks, where one or two hogsheads were standing and several cases. But there was no sign of life or habitation. It was evidently the freight station for some town not far distant, for a couple of old-fashioned box-cars stood on a siding, and Pee-wee contemplated them with the joy of sudden inspiration. "Crinkums, that would be a dandy place to sleep," he thought, for it was blowing up cold and he had but scant equipment. He went up to the nearest car and felt of the sliding door. It was the least bit open, owing to its damaged condition, and by moving it a very few inches more he could have slipped inside. But he paused to examine the pasters and chalk marks on the body. One read "Buffalo--4--LLM." There were the names of various cities and numerous strange marks. It was evident the car had been quite a globe-trotter in its time, but as it stood there then it seemed to Pee-wee that so it must have stood for a dozen years and was likely to stand for a dozen years more. He slid the door a little farther open on its rusty hinges and climbed inside. It was very dark and still and smelled like a stable, but suddenly he was aware of a movement not far from him. He did not exactly hear it, but he felt that something was moving. For a moment a cold shudder went over him and he stood stark still, not daring to move. Then, believing that his imagination had played a trick, he fumbled in his duffel bag, found his flashlight and sent its vivid gleam about the car. A young fellow in a convict's suit stood menacingly before the door with one hand upon it, blinking and watching the boy with a lowering aspect. His head was close-shaven and shone in the light's glare so that he looked hardly human. He had apparently sprung to the door, perhaps out of a sound sleep, and he was evidently greatly alarmed. Pee-wee was also greatly alarmed, but he was no coward and he stood his ground though his heart was pounding in his breast. "You ain't no bo," said the man. "I--I'm a scout," stammered Pee-wee, "and I was going to camp here for the night. I didn't know there was anyone here." The man continued to glare at him and Pee-wee thought he had never in his life seen such a villainous face. "I'll--I'll go away," he said, "I was only going to sleep here." The convict, still guarding the door, leered brutally at him, his head hanging low, his lips apart, more like a beast than a man. "No, yer won't go 'way, nuther," he finally said; "yer ain't goin' ter double-cross _me_, pal. Wot d'yer say yer wuz?" "A scout," said Pee-wee. "I don't need to stay here, you were here first. I can camp outdoors." "No, yer don't," said the man. "You stay whar yer are. Yer ain't goin' ter double-cross _me_." "I don't know what you mean by that," said Pee-wee.