suddenly demanded Bess, whose anger at the fat man had been gradually
rising until now, before Nan could stop her, it boiled over.

"Heh? Who are _you_, Miss, if I may inquire?" snapped the fat man.

"It doesn't matter who I am," proclaimed Bess. "I wouldn't take a drop of
that milk from you, anyway. But this poor little puppy is starving."

"Why, I declare!" interrupted Bulson. "That's the little dog I shipped
to Junior."

"It's your own dog, Mr. Bulson," Bess declared. "And he's almost
starved."

"And what are _you_ doing with him?" demanded the fat man, rage suddenly
narrowing his eyes again. "What kind of actions are these?" and he swung
on the members of the train crew once more. "My dog is given to any Tom,
Dick, and Harry that comes along, while I can't get at my own case of
milk. Preposterous!"

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."