"I wish they would throw that mean old Bulson into the snow. He deserves it," Bess returned bitterly.
"Do let's go away," Nan said again, as the men's voices became louder.
"Oh, dear me! you never will let me have any fun," declared Bess, her eyes sparkling.
"Do you call a public brawl, fun?" demanded Nan, as they opened the door of the car.
At that moment, just as the two girls with the squirming, shivering puppy, were about to step out upon the platform between the baggage cars, they were startled by a muffled shout from overhead.
"Oh! what's that?" gasped Bess.
Both she and Nan looked up. Lumps of snow from the roof of the tunnel began to fall. Then came a louder shout and a pair of booted legs burst through the roof.
"Goodness—gracious—me!" cried Nan. "Here comes—"
"An angelic visitor!" squealed Bess.
With another shout of alarm, a snow-covered figure plunged to the platform. The cowhide boots landed first, so the man remained upright. He carried a can in each hand, and all around the covers was frozen milk, betraying at once the nature of his load.