Two mice
are sitting on a comfortable seat in a first-class compartment.
The older mouse is wearing a terrific hat
pointing out the most important facts to his young friend.

When the ticket collector comes to punch the tickets
the older mouse solemnly heaves a bouquet up from his inner pocket
without interrupting the flow of his explanation for a single moment.            

Then, at precisely the right second, the first Red Indians
appear at the window, who, astride great black horses, are chasing
something or someone, trying with might and main to stay in the picture
but with much panache ultimately have to give up.

‘Your tickets, please!’

The speed of the train must once more be terrifying.