The brakeman was stocky, short, and long armed.In the old fighting days Michigan railroads chose their train officials with an eye to their superior deltoids.A conductor who could not throw an undesirable fare through a car window lived a short official life.
The two men loomed on the noisy smoking compartment.
"Tickets, please!" clicked the conductor sharply.
Most of the men began to fumble about in their pockets, but the three singers and the one who had been offering the quart bottle did not stir.
"Ticket, Jack!" repeated the conductor, "come on, now."The big bearded man leaned uncertainly against the seat.
"Now look here, Bud," he urged in wheedling tones, "I ain't got no ticket.You know how it is, Bud.I blows my stake." He fished uncertainly in his pocket and produced the quart bottle, nearly empty, "Have a drink?""No," said the conductor sharply.
"A' right," replied Jack, amiably, "take one myself." He tipped the bottle, emptied it, and hurled it through a window.The conductor paid no apparent attention to the breaking of the glass.
"If you haven't any ticket, you'll have to get off," said he.
The big man straightened up.
"You go to hell!" he snorted, and with the sole of his spiked boot delivered a mighty kick at the conductor's thigh.
The official, agile as a wild cat, leaped back, then forward, and knocked the man half the length of the car.You see, he was used to it.Before Jack could regain his feet the official stood over him.
The three men in the corner had also risen, and were staggering down the aisle intent on battle.The conductor took in the chances with professional rapidity.
"Get at 'em, Jimmy," said he.
And as the big man finally swayed to his feet, he was seized by the collar and trousers in the grip known to "bouncers" everywhere, hustled to the door, which someone obligingly opened, and hurled from the moving train into the snow.The conductor did not care a straw whether the obstreperous Jack lit on his head or his feet, hit a snowbank or a pile of ties.Those were rough days, and the preservation of authority demanded harsh measures.
Jimmy had got at 'em in a method of his own.He gathered himself into a ball of potential trouble, and hurled himself bodily at the legs of his opponents which he gathered in a mighty bear hug.It would have been poor fighting had Jimmy to carry the affair to a finish by himself, but considered as an expedient to gain time for the ejectment proceedings, it was admirable.The conductor returned to find a kicking, rolling, gouging mass of kinetic energy knocking the varnish off all one end of the car.A head appearing, he coolly batted it three times against a corner of the seat arm, after which he pulled the contestant out by the hair and threw him into a seat where he lay limp.Then it could be seen that Jimmy had clasped tight in his embrace a leg each of the other two.He hugged them close to his breast, and jammed his face down against them to protect his features.They could pound the top of his head and welcome.The only thing he really feared was a kick in the side, and for that there was hardly room.
The conductor stood over the heap, at a manifest advantage.
"You lumber-jacks had enough, or do you want to catch it plenty?"The men, drunk though they were, realized their helplessness.They signified they had had enough.Jimmy thereupon released them and stood up, brushing down his tousled hair with his stubby fingers.
"Now is it ticket or bounce?" inquired the conductor.
After some difficulty and grumbling, the two paid their fare and that of the third, who was still dazed.In return the conductor gave them slips.Then he picked his lantern from the overhead rack whither he had tossed it, slung it on his left arm, and sauntered on down the aisle punching tickets.Behind him followed Jimmy.
When he came to the door he swung across the platform with the easy lurch of the trainman, and entered the other car, where he took the tickets of the two women and the boy.One sitting in the second car would have been unable to guess from the bearing or manner of the two officials that anything had gone wrong.
The interested spectators of the little drama included two men near the water-cooler who were perfectly sober.One of them was perhaps a little past the best of life, but still straight and vigorous.
His lean face was leather-brown in contrast to a long mustache and heavy eyebrows bleached nearly white, his eyes were a clear steady blue, and his frame was slender but wiry.He wore the regulation mackinaw blanket coat, a peaked cap with an extraordinarily high crown, and buckskin moccasins over long stockings.
The other was younger, not more than twenty-six perhaps, with the clean-cut, regular features we have come to consider typically American.Eyebrows that curved far down along the temples, and eyelashes of a darkness in contrast to the prevailing note of his complexion combined to lend him a rather brooding, soft, and melancholy air which a very cursory second examination showed to be fictitious.His eyes, like the woodsman's, were steady, but inquiring.His jaw was square and settled, his mouth straight.One would be likely to sum him up as a man whose actions would be little influenced by glamour or even by the sentiments.And yet, equally, it was difficult to rid the mind of the impression produced by his eyes.Unlike the other inmates of the car, he wore an ordinary business suit, somewhat worn, but of good cut, and a style that showed even over the soft flannel shirt.The trousers were, however, bound inside the usual socks and rubbers.
The two seat mates had occupied their time each in his own fashion.
To the elder the journey was an evil to be endured with the patience learned in watching deer runways, so he stared straight before him, and spat with a certain periodicity into the centre of the aisle.
