"No; please don't go, Mr. Coogan—it's too hard for you to get through the train. Sam will get your things as soon as he comes back. Do stay right where you are until we get to Needley."
"No; don't think of going, Mr. Coogan," said Thornton savagely.
The Flopper looked at Mrs. Thornton gratefully, and at Mr. Thornton thoughtfully.
"T'anks!" said the Flopper pleasantly—and wriggled himself into a more comfortable position in his chair.
Half an hour later, the train, that stopped only on signal to discharge eastbound passengers from Portland, drew up at Needley—and Hiram Higgins, on the platform, stared at a scene never before witnessed in the history of the town.
It was not one passenger, or two, or three, that alighted—they streamed in a bewildering fashion from every vestibule of every car. It is true that the majority got back into the train later, but that did not lessen the effect any on Mr. Higgins. Mr. Higgins' jaw dropped, and he grabbed at his chin whiskers for support.
"Merciful daylights!" he breathed heavily. "Now what in the land's sakes be it all about?" His eyes, following the hurrying passengers, fixed on the twisted shape of the Flopper, being helped to the platform from the private car.
"Three cheers for Coogan!" yelled some excitable passenger.
The cheers were given with a will.
"Good luck to you, Coogan!" shouted another
