"The C.P.R.'ll have to feed 'em--must. That's the regulation. Accident--free meals. That hasn't nothing to do with me. They don't come poaching on my ground. I say, look out! Do yer call that bacon, or buffaler steaks?"
And Yerkes rushed upon his subordinate, Bettany, who was cutting the breakfast bacon with undue thickness, and took the thing in hand himself. The crushed Bettany, who was never allowed to finish anything, disappeared hastily in order to answer the electric bell which was ringing madly from Philip Gaddesden's berth.
"Conductor!" cried a voice from the inner platform outside the dining-room and next the train.
"And what might you be wanting, sir?" said Bettany jauntily, opening the door to the visitor. Bettany was a small man, with thin harrassed features and a fragment of beard, glib of speech towards everybody but Yerkes.
"Your conductor got some milk, I think, from that cabin."
"He did--but only enough for ourselves. Sorry we can't oblige you."
"All the same, I am going to beg some of it. May I speak to the gentleman?"
"Mr. Gaddesden, sir, is dressing. The steward will attend to you."
And Bettany retired ceremoniously in favour of Yerkes, who hearing voices had come out of his den.
"I have come to ask for some fresh milk for a baby in the emigrant car," said the stranger. "Looks sick, and the mother's been crying. They've only got tinned milk in the restaurant and the child won't touch it."