The stout gentleman snored monotonously in two notes, one a rasping bass, the other a prolonged treble.

At intervals, a brakeman or the passenger conductor pushed down the aisle, between the curtains, his red and white lamp over his arm.

Looking out into the car Annixter saw in an end section where the berths had not been made up, the porter, in his white duck coat, dozing, his mouth wide open, his head on his shoulder.
The hours passed.

Midnight came and went.

Annixter, checking off the stations, noted their passage of Modesto, Merced, and Madeira.