"Sure have, Miss."

"Oh, Mr. Carter!" called Nan, running back into the forward car; "here's
a man with _fresh_ milk. You don't have to take Mr. Bulson's."

"What's that?" demanded the baggage-man, Jim, in surprise. "Where'd he
get it? From that cow-tree your friend was telling us about?"

"What's this about fresh milk?" asked Mr. Carter. "Be still, Bulson. You
roar to fit your name. We can't hear the little lady."

"Who's that?" snarled the excited Bulson, glaring at Nan. "How came that
girl on this train? Isn't that the Sherwood girl?"

But nobody paid the fat man much attention just then. The crew crowded
after Nan and Mr. Carter toward the open door of the car.

"Hul-lo" exclaimed Mr. Carter, when he saw the farmer and realized how he
had "dropped in." "That milk for sale?"

"Why, mister," drawled Snubbins, "I'm under contrac' ter Peleg Morton ter
deliver two cans of milk to him ev'ry day. I wasn't goin' to have him
claim I hadn't tried ter fulfil my part of the contrac', so I started
'cross-lots with the cans."

"How's he going to get the milk to the creamery?" demanded Mr.
Carter, shrewdly.

Si's eyes twinkled. "That's his part of the contrac'; 'tain't mine," he