rned bitterly.

"Do let's go away," Nan said again, as the men's voices became louder.

"Oh, dear me! you never will let me have any fun," declared Bess, her
eyes sparkling.

"Do you call a public brawl, fun?" demanded Nan, as they opened the door
of the car.

At that moment, just as the two girls with the squirming, shivering
puppy, were about to step out upon the platform between the baggage cars,
they were startled by a muffled shout from overhead.

"Oh! what's that?" gasped Bess.

Both she and Nan looked up. Lumps of snow from the roof of the tunnel
began to fall. Then came a louder shout and a pair of booted legs burst
through the roof.

"Goodness--gracious--me!" cried Nan. "Here comes--"

"An angelic visitor!" squealed Bess.

With another shout of alarm, a snow-covered figure plunged to the
platform. The cowhide boots landed first, so the man remained upright. He
carried a can in each hand, and all around the covers was frozen milk,
betraying at once the nature of his load.

He was a slim, wiry man, in a ragged greatcoat, a cap pulled over his
ears, sparkling, little, light-blue eyes of phenomenal shrewdness, and a
sparse, strawcolor chin-whisker.

"Wall, I vow to Maria!" gasped the newcomer. "What's this I've
dropped into?"

Bess was now laughing so that she could not speak, and the puppy was
barking as hard as he could bark. Nan managed to ask:

"Who are you, sir, and where did you come from?"

"Si Snubbras is my name," declared the "heavenly visitor." "And I reckon
I'm nearer home than you be, Miss, for I live right east of the
railroad-cut, here. I was jest goin' across to Peleg Morton's haouse with
this yere milk, when I--I sorter dropped in," and Farmer Snubbins went
off into a fit of laughter at his own joke.

CHAPTER IX

AN ANGEL WITH CHIN WHISKERS

Mr. Si Snubbins was a character, and he plainly was very much pleased
with himself. His little, sharp eyes apprehended the situation quickly.

"I vow to Maria!" repeated the farmer. "Ye air all snowed up here, ain't
ye? A hull trainful o' folks. Wall!"

"And oh, Mr. Snubbins!" said Nan Sherwood, "you have milk in those cans,
haven't you?"

"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?"