"See here, are you another one of them good-for-nothing schoolboys?" bellowed the stout individual. "If you are, I want you to understand you can't run this train—not as far as I am concerned, anyhow."
Dave looked at the man for a moment in silence. "You are very polite, I must say," he observed. "I haven't done anything to you, have I?"
"No, but you young bloods are all in together. I know you! Last spring I was on the train with a lot of college boys, and they tried to run things to suit themselves. But we fixed 'em, we did. And we'll fix you, too, if you try to run matters here," and with a savage shake of his head the stout man passed down the aisle and dropped heavily into the first vacant seat he reached.
"Isn't he a peach?" murmured Sam Day to Dave. "Meekest man I ever saw, and ought to have a monument for politeness."
"I hope all his eggs are smashed," said Shadow Hamilton. "He certainly deserves it."
"Shouldn't wonder if they are—he came down hard enough," answered Dave.
By good luck all the students had seats close to each other, and as the train rolled along they told of their various holiday experiences and discussed school matters.
"Just four weeks and then we'll close down for Christmas," said Roger.
