wheelbarrow was halted beside the truck on which he was tumbling a pile of boxes.
"Sure, express," retorted Mr. Davis. "Live stock this time. A passenger for you, with his ticket and all. Let him go through to the coaches, George. It's all right. He'll explain."
He lifted the lid of the box and Bob stepped out. The baggage-man stared, but he knew and trusted Mr. Davis.
"Don't thank me, lad," said the groceryman kindly as Bob tried to pour out his thanks. "You're from my part of the country, and any boy in trouble claims my help. There, there, for goodness' sake, are you going to miss the train after all the trouble I've taken?"
He pushed Bob gently toward the door of the baggage car and the boy scrambled in. Then, and not until then, did the vociferous Bud see what was going on. He dared not tackle the groceryman, but he came running pellmell down the platform to bray at Bob.
"You big coward!" he yelled. "Sneaking away, aren't you? Just let me catch you in this town again, and I'll make it so hot for you you'll wish you'd never left your kindergarten back East."
He was so angry he fairly danced with rage, and Bob and the baggage man both had to laugh.
"Laugh, you big boob!" howled Bud. "You
