We lay along the shelves of the caboose, a peaceful sight I should think, in that smoothly trundling cradle.
I slept almost immediately, so tired that not even our stops or anything else waked me, save once, when
the air I was breathing grew suddenly pure, and I roused. Sitting in the door was the lonely figure of the
Virginian. He leaned in silent contemplation of the occasional moon, and beneath it the Yellowstones
swift ripples. On the caboose shelves the others slept sound and still, each stretched or coiled as he
had first put himself. They were not untrustworthy to look at, it seemed to me--except Trampas. You
would have said the rest of that young humanity was average rough male blood, merely needing to be
told the proper things at the right time; and one big bunchy stocking of the enthusiast stuck out of his
blanket, solemn and innocent, and I laughed at it. There was a light sound by the door, and I found the
Virginians eye on me. Finding who it was, he nodded and motioned with his hand to go to sleep. And
this I did with him in my sight, still leaning in the open door, through which came the interrupted moon
and the swimming reaches of the Yellowstone.