The express messenger had received a signal from Mr. Carter, and now said:
"I tell you what it is, Mr. Bulson; I can't help you out. The matter is entirely out of my hands. Just before you came in the conductor levied on all my goods in transit and claimed the right to seize your case of milk for the benefit of the passengers. You'll have to send in your claim to our company, and it will get the value of the milk from the railroad people for you. That's all there is to it."
"What?" roared Mr. Bulson, aghast at these words.
"You heard me," responded the expressman, handing Mr. Carter a hammer and nail puller.
The conductor kneeled down and proceeded to open the box. The fat man would have torn his hair only he was bald and there was none he could spare.
"Get away from that box! get away!" he commanded, fairly dancing about the car. "Do you know what I'll do? I'll sue the company."
"All right. Begin suit at once," growled Mr. Carter. "Get out an injunction right away. Don't fret; you'll get your share of the milk with the rest of us."
"Why, it's all mine," croaked the fat man, hoarse with wrath. "I'll show you—"
"Go 'way," ordered a burly brakeman, pushing him aside, and stooping to help pull off the cover of the box. "You ought to be taken out and dumped in the snow, mister. It would cool you off."
"Come, Bess!" urged Nan, anxiously. "Let's go away. We'll get the milk for the puppy afterward. I'm afraid there will be trouble."