Anxious to do all he possibly could for them, Jefferson Wilbur had provided Dale and Owen with seats in the observation car of the train, so the young lumbermen had an excellent opportunity to gaze at the scenery along the route as the overland express roared and shrieked its way around rocky bends, over long bridges, and past immense stretches of farming lands. The view was an ever-changing one, and they were surprised when a porter came in and announced that lunch was ready in the dining car. "It's just as elegant as anything in the East," was Dale's comment, while they were eating. "The Down-Easter who doesn't think so had better come out and see." They had just finished lunch, when they saw that the train was approaching a bridge over a very broad river, that sparkled brightly in the sunlight. "The Mississippi!" cried Owen, and he was right, and soon they were rumbling slowly over the Father of American Rivers. Up and down the river were numerous steam and sail boats, and freight and lumber lighters, showing that commerce was as active here as elsewhere. As yet neither of the young lumbermen had put in a night on a regular sleeping car, and they watched with curiosity, that evening, as the porter built up the various berths, arranged the bedding, and placed the heavy curtains in position. As they were used to sleeping together, they had the porter leave out the upper berth, and used the lower only. "This is as good as a hotel," was Owen's comment. "Anyway, it beats the bunk up at the Hoover camp," answered Dale, with a happy laugh. "Don't mention that bunk again, Dale. I can smell the mustiness yet." But, though the bed was soft, sleeping, with the rumble of the train in their ears, was not so easy, and Dale lay awake for a good hour, listening to the toot-toot of the locomotive, the grinding of car wheels, and the sharp clack-clack as they sped over some intersecting tracks. He wondered what he would do if there was a wreck, and how he could save himself if the car rolled completely over, or if it took fire from the dimly burning lights in the aisle. And then tired Nature at last claimed her own, and lying back to back with Owen, he dropped off and slept as soundly as anybody. When the young lumbermen arose and went to the lavatory to wash up, they found nobody stirring but the porter and an old ranchman, who was sitting in the smoking section, puffing steadily at his corncob pipe. "Couldn't sleep nohow," said the ranchman, between his puffs. "Aint used to it, an' it's wuss nor trying to sleep in the saddle on a broncho. Next time I travel, I'm going to stop off for my rest."