"Four-thirty-nine'll be another half hour late," said Nat Cumlien, coming out of his cage to throw half a hod of soft coal into the stove. "Got some big drifts down near Janesville."
"Four-thirty-nine ain't been on time in ten years, drifts or no drifts," said Stud.
"Well, I do my best," said Nat.
He went out onto the platform and changed the lantern, threw a couple of bundles of hides and some milk cans onto the truck, came in blowing on his fingers and brushing off the snow.
"Whew, that'd freeze the ears off a brass monkey," said Nat. He retired to his cage and his game of solitaire.
After an eternity the big headlight cut through the snow and the muffled whistle shook the windows. Stud hurried out to the platform as the train wheezed in and ground to a stop. Early Ann jumped off, laughing and squealing. He carried her baggage to the cutter and they streaked home through the storm to the accompaniment of jingling sleigh-bells and creaking snow beneath the polished runners. Deeply covered with robes and sharing each other's warmth, they shouted to each other above the storm.
It was good to be home again, good to be turning in at the Brailsford gate with the windows of the farmhouse shining on the snow. Stud hurried off to unhitch while Gus helped Early Ann with her bundles.
Sarah stood on the back stoop shivering and wiping her hands on her apron.
"Welcome home, Early Ann," she cried.
"Here I am safe and sound, Mrs. Brailsford. I had a wonderful time."