were likely to run short.

"Not in this car," said Yerkes, with emphasis. "What _they'll_ do"--a
jerk of his thumb towards the rest of the train in front--"can't say."

"Of course we shall have to give them food!" cried Lady Merton,
delighted at the thought of getting rid of some of their superfluities.

Yerkes showed a stolid face.

"The C.P.R.'ll have to feed 'em--must. That's the regulation.
Accident--free meals. That hasn't nothing to do with me. They don't come
poaching on my ground. I say, look out! Do yer call that bacon, or
buffaler steaks?"

And Yerkes rushed upon his subordinate, Bettany, who was cutting the
breakfast bacon with undue thickness, and took the thing in hand
himself. The crushed Bettany, who was never allowed to finish anything,
disappeared hastily in order to answer the electric bell which was
ringing madly from Philip Gaddesden's berth.

"Conductor!" cried a voice from the inner platform outside the
dining-room and next the train.

"And what might you be wanting, sir?" said Bettany jauntily, opening the
door to the visitor. Bettany was a small man, with thin harrassed
features and a fragment of beard, glib of speech towards everybody
but Yerkes.

"Your conductor got some milk, I think, from that cabin."