Nan.

"Why, I'd like to know, Miss?" asked the man.

"It would have lain heavily on our consciences—"

"And surely injured our digestions," giggled Bess. "That pie was something awful."

"Well, it's all gone now, and you have nothing."

"Oh, that's not the worst," cried Bess, suddenly. "Oh, Nan!" and she clasped her gloved hands tragically.

"What is it now?" asked her chum.

"The poor little dog! He won't have even railroad pie to eat."

"What dog is this?" demanded the conductor.

"Oh!" cried Nan. "Are you Mr. Carter?"

"Yes, I am, Miss. But this dog?"

"Is in the baggage car," Nan said eagerly. "And he's so cold and hungry and lonesome. He's just crying his heart out."

"He is?"

"Won't you let us take him into our car where it is warmer and take care of him?"

"That nuisance of a pup?" demanded the conductor, yet with twinkling eyes that belied his gruffness. "I know he's yapping his little head off."

"Then let us have him, sir, do!" begged Nan earnestly.

"Take him into the Pullman, you mean?"

"Yes, sir, we'll take the best care of him," promised Nan.

"Against the rules!" declared the conductor, briskly.

"But rules ought to be broken at times," urged Nan. "For instance, can't they be relaxed when folks are cast away on desert islands?"

"Oh, ho!" chuckled the conductor. "I see the point, Miss. But the captain of the ship must maintain discipline, just the same, on the desert island as aboard ship."

"I s'pose you've got to enforce the rule against passengers riding on the platform, too, even if we are stuck in a snowdrift?" Bess said a little crossly. They had come out into the vestibule, and she was cold.

The conductor broke into open laughter at this; but Nan was serious.

"Suppose anything happens to the poor little fellow?" she fumed. "He may get cold. And he certainly will starve."

"Have you anything more in the line of food to give away?" demanded the conductor.

"Not a crumb," sighed Bess. "By the time the cannibals arrive at this desert island we'll all be too thin to tempt them to a banquet."

"But there may be something on the train with which to feed that poor doggie," insisted Nan.

"If you mean in the crew's kettles," said the conductor, "I can assure you, young lady, there is nothing. This crew usually eats at the end of the division. It's not like a freight train crew. We'd be a whole lot better off right now," added the conductor, reflectively, "if we had a caboose attached to the end of this train. We'd stand a chance of rustling up some grub for all these hungry people."

"Oh, dear!" gasped Bess. "Do you s'pose we're going to be hungry long?"

"They say one doesn't notice it much after about eight days," her chum said, chuckling.

"Ugh!" shivered Bess, "I don't much care for your kind of humor, Nan
Sherwood."

The conductor suddenly glanced at Nan more keenly and asked, "Are you
Nancy Sherwood, Miss?"

"Why, yes, sir."

"And you go to school somewhere upon the shore of Lake Huron?" he pursued.

"Why, yes, sir."

"We go to Lakeview Hall. And we know Linda Riggs," blurted out Bess, remembering what the baggage-man had advised them to say to the conductor.

"Oh, indeed?" said Mr. Carter; but his interest remained fixed on Nan. "You didn't go to school last September over this division, did you?" he asked.

"No, sir. We went from Chicago," replied the wondering Nan.

"Your train was broke in two at the Junction to put in a car?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what did you do at the Junction?" asked the conductor, quickly.

"Oh, I know!" cried Bess, as her chum hesitated. "She got off the train and killed a big rattlesnake that was just going to bite a little girl—yes, you did, Nan Sherwood!"

"You're the girl, Miss!" declared Mr. Carter, drawing out his notebook and pencil. "There have been some inquiries made for you."

"Mercy!" ejaculated Nan. "I don't want to hear anything more about that old snake."

The conductor laughed. "I fancy you won't hear anything unpleasant about the snake," he said. "Where do you live, Nancy Sherwood?"

"I live at Tillbury," Nan said. "But I sha'n't be home much this vacation."

"Where will you be, then, about the first of the year?"

"I'll tell you," Bess cried briskly, and she gave Mr. Carter Mr. Mason's address in Chicago.

The conductor wrote it down carefully in his notebook. Nan was impatient.

"Can't you find something among the express packages to help us out, sir?" she asked. "Canned goods. For instance, a case of canned milk?"

"We'll see, Miss," said the conductor, starting forward again. "At any rate, I'll let you two girls have the dog."