said. "But if ye ax me, I tell ye honest, Mr. Conductor, I don't see how
Peleg's goin' ter do it. This is a sight the heaviest snow we've had for
ten year."

"What'll you sell that milk for?" interrupted the anxious conductor.
"Fresh milk will be a whole lot better for these kiddies we've got in the
smoker than condensed milk. Just the same," he added, "I shall hold on to
Bulson's shipment."

"What'll I take for this milk, mister?" repeated Snubbins, cautiously.
"Wall, I dunno. I'spect the price has gone up some, because o' the roads
being blocked."

"That will do--that will do," Mr. Carter hastened to say. "I'll take
the milk, give you a receipt, and you can fight it out with the claim
agent. I believe," added Mr. Carter, his lips twisting into a grim
smile, "that you are the farmer whose cow was killed by this very train
last fall, eh?"

"Ya-as," said Si Snubbins, sorrowfully. "Poor Sukey! She never knew
what hit her."

"But the claim agent knew what hit the road when you put in your claim.
That old cow wasn't worth more than ten dollars and you demanded fifty.
Don't raise the tariff on this milk proportionately, for I'm sure the
agent will not allow the claim."

Mr. Snubbins grinned and chuckled.

"I'll run my risk--I'll run my risk," he responded. "You kin have the