ieked the plump girl, running down the aisle. "Busy Izzy
is left behind."

"Stop your joking," exclaimed Tom, peering out of his berth, which was an
upper. "He's nothing of the kind."

"He is! He is!"

"Why, he's all ready for bed," declared one of the Tingley boys. "He
wouldn't dare----"

"We threw him out!" wailed Heavy. "We didn't know the train was to start
so quickly."

"Threw him off the train?" cried Mrs. Tingley, appearing in her boudoir
cap and gown. "What kind of a menagerie am I supposed to preserve order
in----?"

"You can make bully good preserved ginger, Ma," said one of her sons, "but
you fall short when it comes to preserving _order_."

Most of the crowd were troubled over Isadore's absence. Some suggested
pulling the emergency cord and stopping the train; others were for
telegraphing back from the next station. All were talking at once, indeed,
when the rear door opened and in came the conductor, escorting the
shivering Isadore.

"Does this--this _tyke_ belong in here?" demanded the man of brass
buttons, with much emphasis.

They welcomed him loudly. The conductor shook his head. The flagman on the
end of the train had helped the boy aboard the last car as the train
started to move.

"Keep him here!" commanded the conductor. "And I've a mind to have both
doors of the car locked until we reach Logwood. Don't let me hear anything
more from you boys and girls on this journey."

He went away laughing, however, and bye and bye they quieted down. Madge
insisted upon making some hot composition, very strong, and dosing Isadore
with it. The drink probably warded off a cold. Izzy admitted to Bobbins
that a sister wasn't so bad to "have around" after all.

While they slept, the car was shunted to the sidetrack at Logwood and the
western-bound train went hooting away through the forest. It was still
snowing heavily, there were not many trains passing through the Logwood
yard, and no switching during the early part of the day. The snow
smothered other sounds.

Therefore, the party that had come to the lake for a vacation was not
astir until late. It was hunger that roused them to the realities of life
in the end. They had to dress and go to the one hotel of which the
settlement boasted for breakfast.

"Can't cross to the island on the ice, they say," Ralph Tingley ran in to
tell his mother. "Weight of the snow has broken it up. One of the men says
he'll get a punt and pole us over to Cliff Island