The two sections occupied by the eight girls and boys were opposite each other and they had that end of the car pretty much to themselves.  Of course, people sometimes had to go through the aisle—­and others besides the conductor and the porter; but after running the gauntlet of that lively troop once the restless passenger usually tried to keep out of the “line of fire.”

The fun the party had was good-natured sport for the most part.  Their practical jokes were aimed at each other rather than at their fellow passengers.  But it was a fact that there was very little peace for a nervous person in that Pullman coach.

“We’re the live-wire octette, and we are going to let everybody know it,” proclaimed Tommy Tucker vociferously.  “Say! there’s a chap up at the other end of the car, sprawled all over his seat—­fresh kid, he is.  Did you notice him?”

“I did,” replied his twin.  “I fell over his foot twice when I went for a drink.”

“Why didn’t you look where you were walking?” grinned Bob Henderson craning his neck to see up the aisle and mark the passenger in question.

“Huh!” grumbled Ted, “he stuck it out for me to tumble over both times—­and you know this train is joggling some.”

“Ill say so,” agreed Bob.

But Betty had jumped up to look and she said eagerly: 

“Do you mean the man with the silk handkerchief over his head?  He must be asleep, or trying to sleep.”

“I tell you he is just a fresh kid,” said Tommy Tucker.  “And I’m going to fix him.”

“Now, boys, be careful what you do,” advised Louise, who occasionally considered it her duty to put on a sober, admonishing air.

Tommy, however, started for the nearest exit to the platform of the car.  He was gone some time, and when he reappeared he carried in both hands a great soggy snowball, bigger than the biggest grapefruit.

“Gee, folks!” he whispered, “it’s snowing, and then some!  I never saw such a snow.  And the porter says it is likely to get worse the farther north we go.  Suppose we should be snowbound?”

There was a chorus of cries—­of fearful delight on the part of the girls, at least—­at this announcement.

“Never mind,” Bob Henderson said, “we have a dining car hitched to this train, so we sha’n’t starve I guess, if we are snowed up.  What are you going to do with that snow, Tommy?”

The Tucker twin winked prodigiously.  “I’m going to take it up the aisle and show it to Mr. Gordon.  He doesn’t know it’s snowing like this,” said the boy quite soberly.

“Why, Tommy Tucker!” cried Betty, “of course Uncle Dick knows it is snowing.  Can’t he see it through the window?”

But when she looked herself at the window beside her she was amazed to see that the pane was masked with wet snow and one could scarcely see through it at all.  Besides, evening was falling fast.

“I do hope,” Teddy remarked, watching his brother start up the aisle, “he tumbles in the right place.”