Part 11 (1/2)

'Jist a few miles here on the steps!'

'Off, quick!'

'Please----'

'Here you go!' and as he said the words he tried to kick me off.

”In a second I was like a Bengal tiger. I jumped up and gethered him and we went at it. I'm as good as ever fluttered, and pretty soon I give him one flat on the nose, and we both went off 'n the platform together. As I started off I happened to think of it, so I grabbed up and pulled the bell-rope to signal the engineer to drive on. 'Hoot-toot!' says the whistle, and away lick-to-split went the train, and slashy-to-splashy, rattle-o-bangle, kewoppyty-whop, b.u.mp, thud! down me and that 'ere conductor come onto a pile o' wore out cross ties in the side ditch, and there we laid a fightin'!

”But you jest bet it didn't take me long to settle _him_. He soon began to sing out ''nuff! 'nuff! take 'm off!' and so I took him by the hair and dragged him off 'n the cross ties, shot him one or two more under the ear with my fist, and then dropped him. He crawled up and stood looking at me as if I was the awfulest thing in the world. I s'pect I did look scary, for I was terrible mad. His face was bruised up mightily, but he wasn't a bleeding much. He was mostly swelled.

'Where's my train?' says he, in a sort o' blank, hollow way.

'Don't ye hear it?' I answered him, 'It's gone on to Savanny!'

'Gone! Who told 'm to go on? What'd they go leave me for?'

'I pulled the bell rope,' says I.

'_You?_'

'Yes, _me_!'

'What in the world did you do _that_ for, man?'

''Cause you wouldn't let me ride to Savanny!'

'What'll I do! What'll I do!' he cried, beginning to waltz 'round like one possessed.

”I laughed--I couldn't help it--and at the same time I pulled out my old pistol.

'Yah-hoo-a!' yelled another owl.

'For the sake o' humanity don't kill me!' said the conductor.

'I'm jest a going to shoot you a little bit for the fun o' the thing,'

says I.

'Mercy, man!' he prayed.

'Ticket!' says I.

”He groaned the awfulest kind, and, by the moonlight, I saw 'at the big tears was running down his face. I felt sorry for him, but I kinder thought 'at after what he'd done he'd better pray a little, so I mentioned it to him.

'I guess it mought be best if you'd pray a little,' says I, c.o.c.king the pistol. My voice had a decided sepulchreal sound. The pistol clicked very sharp.

'O, kind sir,' says he, 'O, dear sir, I never did pray, I don't know how to pray!'

'Ticket or check!' says I, and he knowed I was talking kind o' sarcasm.

'Pray quick!'

”He got down and prayed like a Methodist preacher at his very best licks. He must 'a' prayed afore.