course that horrid man won't let them use the milk for the poor
little children on the train. And, goodness, Bess! you've got his dog
right in your arms this moment."

"Well," said the stubborn Bess, "if that fat man takes a jar of condensed
milk out of that box for himself, I'll make him give this poor little
puppy some of it. Now you see if I don't!"

At first it did not look as though the fat man was going to get any of
the milk even for his own consumption. The expressman said gruffly: "I
can't let you open the package. It's against the rules of the company."

"Say! I shipped this package to myself. Here's the receipt," blustered
Mr. Bulson. "I guess I can withdraw it from your care if I like."

"Guess again, mister," returned the expressman. "You've got three
guesses, anyway."

The fat man was so assertive and over-bearing that it amused the chums
from Tillbury to hear him thus flouted.

"I guess you don't know who I am?" cried the choleric fat man.

"You say your name is Bullhead--"

"Bulson!" roared the other. "Ravell Bulson. I own that milk."

"So it is condensed milk in that box, Mr. Bulson?" here interposed Mr.
Carter, the conductor.

"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 ho