The fellow instantly became very wide awake. Opening the car
door he called to someone within; then three or four men came out
and stared at the Sparling car.
"They are pretty good sleepers over there, I guess," grinned the
rival car manager, for such he proved to be.
The men dodged back, and there was a lively scene in the
rival car. The men realized that they had been remiss in
their duty in sleeping so late, but still they had not the
least doubt of their ability to outwit their rivals, for
the crew of Car Four was a picked lot who had never yet
been beaten in the publicity game.
About this time Phil Forrest strolled out to the rear platform of
his car. He was fully dressed save for coat and vest and hat,
yet to all appearances he, too, had just risen.
The manager of the rival car came out and hailed him.
"Hello, young fellow!" he called.
"Good morning," answered Phil sweetly.
"Seems to me you sleep late over there."
"So do you," laughed Phil. "There must be something in the air
up this way to induce sleep."
"I guess that's right. Who are you?" inquired the rival manager.
"I am one of the crowd."
"You're the programmer, perhaps?"
"I may be most anything."
The manager of the rival car strolled toward Car Three, whereupon
Phil started, meeting him half-way.
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