The Blazed Trail | Page 9

It was rarely refused. Of
the dozen, probably three quarters were more or less drunk.
After a time the smoke became too dense. A short, thick-set fellow with
an evil dark face coolly thrust his heel through a window. The
conductor, who, with the brakeman and baggage master, was seated in
the baggage van, heard the jingle of glass. He arose.
"Guess I'll take up tickets," he remarked. "Perhaps it will quiet the boys
down a little."
The conductor was a big man, raw-boned and broad, with a hawk face.
His every motion showed lean, quick, panther-like power.
"Let her went," replied the brakeman, rising as a matter of course to
follow his chief.
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.