# Dave Porter on Cave Island/Chapter 15
#### CHAPTER XV
##### SOMETHING ABOUT WHITE MICE

Dunston Porter and the boys were to go to New York City and there transfer to Jersey City for the train bound South. All had comfortable seats together.
"It's going to be quite a trip," said Roger, as he settled back to gaze at the swiftly-moving panorama of fields covered with snow.
"Yes, and we are going to journey from winter into summer," added Phil. "It's good we remembered that when we packed our suit-cases. At first I was going to put in nothing but heavy clothing."
"I am glad we heard from Luke," said Dave. "That gives us a little to work on. I hope the Emma Brown, or whatever her name may be, hasn't sailed yet."
"Won't Merwell and Jasniff be surprised if we do locate them?" said the senator's son. "I suppose they think we are at home."
The car was only half-filled with passengers, so the boys and Dunston Porter had plenty of room, and they moved around from one seat to ​another. So the time passed quickly enough, until they rolled into the Grand Central Station, in New York.
"Well, little old New York looks as busy as ever," was Phil's comment, as they stepped out on the street. "Are we to transfer to Jersey City at once?"
"Yes," answered Dunston Porter. "We'll take the subway and the river tube, and get there in no time."
Riding through the tube under the Hudson River was a new experience for the lads and they rather enjoyed it. The train of steel cars rushed along at a good rate of speed, and almost before they knew it, they were in New Jersey and being hoisted up in an elevator to the train-shed.
"Coast Line Express!" was the cry at one of the numerous gates to the tracks, and thither the party hurried. Willing porters took their baggage, and a minute later they found themselves in an elegant Pullman car. Dunston Porter had telegraphed ahead for sleeping accommodations, and they had two double seats opposite each other, directly in the middle of the car.
"All aboard!" sang out the conductor, about ten minutes later, and then the long train rolled slowly from the big train-shed, and the trip to Florida could be said to have fairly begun.
"Do we go by the way of Philadelphia and ​Washington?" asked Phil, who had not taken the time to study the route.
"Yes," answered Dunston Porter. "Here is a time-table. That will show you the whole route and tell you just when we get to each place."
"Will we have to make any changes?" asked Roger.
"None whatever."
Soon the train had left Jersey City behind and a little later it stopped at Newark, and then sped on towards Philadelphia. By this time it had grown too dark to see the landscape and the boys and Dunston Porter retired.
On and on through the long night rolled the train, keeping fairly close to the Atlantic sea-coast. With nothing to do, the boys did not arise until late in the morning. They found Dave's uncle in the lavatory ahead of them, indulging in the luxury of a shave with a safety razor.
"Well, how are you feeling?" asked Dunston Porter.
"Fine!" cried Dave.
"Couldn't feel better," added the senator's son.
"Ready for a big breakfast?"
"I am," answered Phil, promptly. "Gracious, but traveling makes me hungry!"
They had to wait a little before they could get seats together in the dining-car and they amused ​themselves by gazing at the settlements through which they were passing. Here and there were numerous cabins, with hordes of colored children playing about.
"This is the Southland, true enough," observed Dave. "Just see how happy those pickaninnies seem to be!"
"Yes, one would almost envy their care-free dispositions," answered Dunston Porter. "Their manner shows that it doesn't take money to make one happy."
They had passed through Richmond and were now on their way to Emporia. It was growing steadily warmer, and by noon all were glad enough to leave the car and go out on the observation platform at the end of the train.
The next stop was at Fayetteville and after that came Charleston. Long before this the snow had disappeared and the fields looked as green as in the fall at home.
"We'll be at Jacksonville when you wake up in the morning," said Dunston Porter, as they turned into their berths the second night on the train.
"Good! We can't get there any too quick for me!" answered Dave.
"You mustn't expect too much, Dave. You may be bitterly disappointed," remarked his uncle, gravely.
​"Oh, we've just got to catch Merwell and Jasniff, Uncle Dunston!"
"Yes, but they may not be guilty. You'll have to go slow about accusing them."
"Well, I want to catch them and question them anyway. I can have them detained on the old charge, you know—that is, if they try to get away from me."
Dave and Phil slept on one side of the car, with Dunston Porter and Roger on the other. As the steam heat was still turned on, it was uncomfortably warm, and as a consequence Dave was rather restless. He tumbled and tossed in his berth, which was the upper one, and wished that the night were over and that they were in Jacksonville.
"Oh, pshaw! I really must get some sleep!" he told himself. "If I don't, I'll be as sleepy as an owl to-morrow and not fit to hunt up those rascals. Yes, I must go to sleep," and he did what he could to settle himself.
He had just closed his eyes when a peculiar noise below him made him start up. Phil was thrashing around wildly.
"What's the matter, Phil?" he asked, in a low tone.
"Something is in my berth, some animal, or something!" answered the shipowner's son. "I can't go to sleep for it. Every time I lie down it begins to move."
​"Maybe it's a rat."
"Whoever heard of a rat in a sleeping-car?" snorted Phil.
"Perhaps you were dreaming. I didn't hear anything," went on Dave.
"No, I wasn't dreaming—I heard it as plain as day."
"Better go to bed and forget it, Phil," and then Dave lay down again. The shipowner's son grumbled a little under his breath, then turned off his electric light, and sank on his pillow once more.
Dave remained quiet for several minutes and then sat bolt upright and gave a low cry. There was no mistake about it, something had mgved over his feet and given him a slight nip in the toe.
"Phil!" he called, softly. "Did you do that? Come, no fooling now. This is no place for jokes."
"Do what?"
"Pinch me in the toe."
"I haven't touched your toe. How can I from the lower berth?"
"Well, something nipped me."
"Maybe it's you who are dreaming this trip, Dave," returned the shipowner's son, with pardonable sarcasm.
Dave did not reply, for just then he felt ​thing 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 hit 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 fashion.
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.