At that very moment the porter and conductor entered the car with a
steaming can of the very comforting fluid Bess had just mentioned. The
porter distributed waxed paper cups from the water cooler for each
passenger's use and the conductor judiciously poured the cups half full
of coffee.

"You two girls are very lucky," he said, when he saw what was in the
lunch-box. "Take care of your food supply. No knowing when we'll get out
of this drift."

"Why, mercy!" ejaculated Bess. "I don't know that I care to live for long
on stale sandwiches and pie, washed down by the most miserable coffee I
ever tasted."

"Well, I suppose it's better to live on this sort of food than to die on
no food at all," Nan said, laughing.

It seemed to be all a joke at first. There were only a few people in the
Pullman, and everybody was cheerful and inclined to take the matter
pleasantly. Being snow-bound in a train was such a novel experience that
no unhappy phase of the situation deeply impressed any of the
passengers' minds.

Breakfast was meagre, it was true. The "candy butcher," who sold popcorn
and sandwiches as well, was bought out at an exorbitant price by two
traveling men, who distributed what they had secured with liberal hand.
Bess, more cautious than usual, hid the remains of her lunch and told Nan
that it was "buried treasure."