l 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 he