in the broken fittings
of the cab. He could do nothing for himself, let alone assist in the
rescue of the owner of the crippled little limbs. The dog, darting
about, barked wildly.

As Nan stooped to lift the broken cab door off the apparently injured
boy, the dog--he was only a puppy--ran yapping at her in a fever of
apprehension. But his barking suddenly changed to yelps of joy as he
leaped on Nan and licked her hands.

"Why, Buster!" gasped the girl, recognizing the little spaniel that she
and Bess Harley had befriended in the snow-bound train.

She knew instantly, then, whose was the fat and apoplectic face; but she
did not understand about the legs in the cruel looking iron braces until
she had drawn a small and sharp-featured lad of seven or eight years of
age from under the debris of the taxi-cab.

"Jingo! Look at Pop!" exclaimed the crippled boy, who seemed not to have
been hurt at all in the accident.

Mr. Ravell Bulson was trying to struggle out from under the cab. And to
his credit he was not thinking of himself at this time.

"How's Junior?" he gasped. "Are you hurt, Junior?"

"No, Pop, I ain't hurt," said the boy with the braces. "But, Jingo! you
do look funny."

"I don't feel so funny," snarled his parent, finally extricating himself
unaided from the tangle. "Sure you're not hurt, Junior?"

"No, I'm not hurt," repeated the boy. "Nor Buster ain't hurt. And see
this girl, Pop. Buster knows her."

Mr. Ravell Bulson just then obtained a clear view of Nan Sherwood,
against whom the little dog was crazily leaping. The man scowled and in
his usual harsh manner exclaimed:

"Call the dog away, Junior. If you're not hurt we'll get another cab
and go on."

"Why, Pop!" cried the lame boy, quite excitedly. "That pup likes her a
whole lot. See him? Say, girl, did you used to own that puppy?"

"No, indeed, dear," said Nan, laughing. "But he remembers me."

"From where?" demanded the curious Ravell Bulson, Jr.

"Why, since the time we were snow-bound in a train together."

"Oh! when was that?" burst out the boy. "Tell me about it snow-bound in a
steam-car train? That must have been jolly."

"Come away, Junior!" exclaimed his father. "You don't care anything about
that, I'm sure."

"Oh, yes I do, Pop. I want to hear about it. Fancy being snow-bound in a
steam-car train!"

"Come away, I tell you," said the fat man, again scowling crossly at Nan.
"You don't want to hear anything that girl can tell yo