"Yes, it is," said Bulson, shortly. "I had business up near the Bancroft
Creamery, and I stepped in there and bought a case of milk in glass, and
shipped it home. I saw it being put aboard the express car of the other
train and I had an idea it would be transferred at the Junction to this
train. And here it is, and I want it."

"You're a public spirited citizen, Mr. Bulson," the conductor said
suavely. "I expect you want to get this milk to divide among your fellow
passengers? Especially among the children on the train?"

"What's that?" exclaimed Bulson, his eyes fairly bulging out with
surprise.

"You are going to open the case of canned milk for the benefit of all
hands?" said Mr. Carter, sternly.

"Wha--what do you take me for?" blurted out the fat man, indignantly.
"Why, that's my milk! I'm not going to give it to anybody. What do you
take me for?" he repeated.

The disgust and indignation with which Mr. Carter eyed him must have
plainly shown a less thick-skinned mortal just what the conductor's
opinion was. But Mr. Ravell Bulson, like most utterly selfish men,
saw nothing.

"You must think I'm silly," pursued Bulson. "I shall want but a can or
two for myself. Of course they'll come and plow us out before long. And I
promised my wife to send that milk home."

"Wouldn't you even give any of that milk to this poor little puppy?"