Prince Aglipogue, frightened into friendliness, broke into a torrent of words from which they gathered that George had the snake in a trunk, the sides of which were warmed by electricity; that the train officials had no idea of the contents of the trunk, that George had gained access to the baggage car though it was against the rules, and that the Prince, being still worried about his luggage, though he had seen it safely aboard, had claimed the right to follow him there and had found George kneeling beside the opened trunk, from which the snake, artificially warmed to activity, was rearing a head which the Prince protested was as large as that of a cow. As he saw that his hearers were unmoved and that they had known about the snake and seemed to consider it quite ordinary, he was a bit ashamed of his agitation, though by no means convinced that there was no cause for it. “It’s a harmless variety,” Terry assured him. “If it were dangerous Gloria wouldn’t have allowed George to keep it in the house.” “For the bite, yes; it may be of no harm, but the shock to the nerves! I should have been warned.” “We didn’t know that you were going into the baggage car,” protested Terry. “What a terrible journey—look at the snow,” said the Prince, sinking into his seat. They looked out. The movement of the train exaggerated the whirling of the snow until it seemed like a frozen, white whirlwind, sweeping past them, or a drove of wild, white horses whose manes brushed the window panes. Beyond the whirling drift they could see nothing. Terry looked at his watch. Down the aisle Ruth heard a man asking how late they were, but could not catch the answer. “Let’s have something to eat; even if we’re on time, we won’t want to wait luncheon until our arrival. A twelve-mile drive through this doesn’t sound very alluring, and we may die of starvation on the way.” Terry’s glance included both Ruth and Prince Aglipogue. “Food I cannot face after what I have witnessed,” said the Prince. “Perhaps I may have something—a cup of tea—something to keep up my—what did you say—two hours late?” He clutched the arm of a passing conductor. “Yes, sir; two hours late now—only two hours,” he answered wearily, freeing his arm and passing on. Prince Aglipogue sank back in his chair as if he would never rise again. “Cheer up; that’s not bad. What can you expect with this snow? Two hours only means that we’ll arrive about five o’clock and get to Fir Tree Lodge—I think that’s what they call it—in time for dinner. Better come on and eat with us.”