Dave Porter on Cave Island Part 23

"Maybe it's you who are dreaming this trip, Dave," returned the s.h.i.+powner's son, with pardonable sarcasm.

Dave did not reply, for just then he felt something moving in the blanket. He made a clutch for it. A little squeak followed.

"I've got it, Phil!"

"What is it?"

"I don't know yet-it's in the blanket."

"Oh, what a noise!" came from the berth beyond. "Cannot you young men be quiet?" It was a woman who was speaking. She was an elderly person and Dave had noticed, during the day, that she was rather sour-looking.

"Sorry, madam, but I've just caught something in my berth," answered Dave. "I'll turn up the light and see what it is," he added, as he held on to the object in the blanket with one hand and turned on the electric illumination with the other.

The cries and talking had awakened half a dozen people and the sleepy porter came down the aisle to find out what was wrong.

"It's a mouse-a white mouse!" cried Dave, as the little creature was uncovered.

"Wot's dat, a mouse!" exclaimed the porter. "Nebber heard of sech a t'ing! How did he git yeah?"

"Don't ask me," replied Dave. "Ugh! he nipped me in the toe, too!"

"Here's another one!" roared Phil. "Ran right across my arm! Take that, you little imp!" he added, and bang! one of his shoes. .h.i.t the woodwork of the car.

"A mouse!" shrieked the elderly woman. "Did you say a mouse, young man?"

"I did-and there is more than one, too," answered Dave, for he had felt another movement at his feet. He lost no time in scrambling up, and Phil followed.

By this time the whole sleeping-car was in an uproar. Everybody who heard the word "mouse" felt certain one of the creatures must be in his or her berth.

"Porter! porter! save me!" screamed the elderly lady. "Oh, mice, just think of it!" And wrapping her dressing-gown around her, she leaped from her berth and sped for the ladies' room. Others also got up, including Dunston Porter and Roger.

"What am I going to do with this fellow?" asked Dave, as he held the mouse up in his vest.

"Better throw it out of a window," suggested his uncle. "Mice in a sleeper! This is certainly the limit!" he muttered. "The railroad company better get a new system of cleaning."

"Mice!" screamed a young lady. "Oh, I shall die!" she shrieked, and looked ready to faint.

"Shoot 'em, why don't you?" suggested a fat man, who came forth from his berth wearing a blanket, Indian fas.h.i.+on.

By this time Phil had caught one of the creatures. Both he and Dave started for the rear of the car, to throw the mice off the train.

"Stop! stop! I beg of you, don't kill those mice!" came suddenly from a tall, thin young man who had been sleeping in a berth at the end of the car. Dave had noticed him during the day and had put him down as a preacher or actor.

"Why not?" asked our hero.

"They are mine, that's why," said the man. "I would not have them killed for a thousand dollars!"

"Say, wot yo'-all talkin' about?" demanded the porter. "Dem mice yours?"

"Yes! yes! Oh, please do not kill them!" pleaded the tall, thin man.

"They won't hurt anybody, really they won't."

"Say, are them white mice educated?" demanded the fat man.

"Indeed they are-I educated them myself," answered the other man. "I spent months in doing it, too. They are the best-educated white mice in the United States," he added, proudly.

CHAPTER XVI-PICKING UP THE TRAIL

The announcement that the mice that had been caught in the car were educated filled the boys with interest, but it did not lessen their indignation nor that of the other pa.s.sengers.

"The idea of mice on the train, even if they are educated!" shrilled the elderly lady.

"It's outrageous!" stormed another lady. "I never heard of such a thing in all my life!"

"Say, you must take this for a cattle train!" remarked the fat man, bluntly. "If you do, you've got another guess coming."

"Oh, my dear, sweet mice," said the tall, slim man, as he took the animal from Dave and also the one that Phil was holding. "That is King Hal and this one is President Tom! They are both highly educated. They can--"

"Say, howsoeber did yo'-all git dem trash in dis cah!" demanded the porter.

"I-er-I had them in a cage in my-er-in my suit-case," the owner of the mice answered, and now his voice faltered. "I really didn't think they would get out."

"We don't allow no mice in de sleepin'-cahs!" stormed the porter. "Dogs, an' cats, an' parrots, an' mice goes in de baggage-cah."

"Are there any more of them loose?" asked one of the ladies.

"I will see!" cried the tall, slim man. "I forgot about that! Oh, I hope they are safe! If they are not, what shall I do? I have an engagement in Jacksonville, and another in St. Augustine, to fill."

"Do you show 'em on the stage?" snorted the fat man.

"To be sure. Haven't you heard of me, Professor Richard De Haven, the world-famous trainer of mice, rats, and cats? I have exhibited my mice in all the countries of the world, and--"

"Never mind that just now," interrupted Dunston Porter. "Go and see if the others are safe, otherwise we'll have to round up your live-stock before we go to sleep again."

"Oh, I shall never sleep another wink in this car!" sighed a lady.

"I shall!" snorted the fat man, "or else get the price of my berth out of that chap, or the railroad company!"

Professor De Haven ran to his berth and dragged forth a dress-suit-case.

A moment later he uttered a genuine howl of dismay.

"They are all gone!"

"How many?" queried Dave, who had followed him.