leaves his mouth half open all the time; and his costume
looks like it had been made up from back door contributions,--a faded
coat three sizes too small, a forty fat vest, and a pair of shiny black
whipcord pants that someone had been married in about twenty years back.

What gets me is why such a specimen should be trailin' around with a
clean, decent lookin' chap like this minister. Maybe that's why I come to
take any notice of their little debate. There's some men, though, that
you always give a second look at, and this minister gent was one of that
kind. It wa'n't until I see how he tops Danny by a head that I notices
how well built he is; and I figures that if he was only in condition, and
knew how to handle himself, he could put up a good lively scrap.
Something about his jaw hints that to me; but of course, him bein' a
Bible pounder, I don't expect anything of the kind.

"Yes, I understand all that," Danny was tellin' him; "but you'd better
come down to the office, just the same."

"My dear man," says the minister, "I have been to the office, as I told
you before, and I could get no satisfaction there. The person I wish to
see is on the ninth floor. They say he is out. I doubt it, and, as I have
come six hundred miles just to have a word with him, I insist on a chance
to----"

"Sure!" says Danny. "You'll get your chance, only it's against the rules
to allow strangers above the ground floor. Now, you come along with me
and you'll be all right." With that Danny gets a grip on the gent's arm
and starts to walk him to the elevator. But he don't go far. The next
thing Danny knows he's been sent spinnin' against the other wall. Course,
he wa'n't lookin' for any such move; but it was done slick and prompt.

"Sorry," says the minister, shovin' his cuffs back in place; "but I must
ask you to keep your hands off."

I see what Danny was up to then. He looks as cool as a soda fountain; but
he's red behind his ears, and he's fishin' the chain nippers out of his
side pocket. I knows that in about a minute the gent in the frock coat
will have both hands out of business. Even at that, it looks like an even
bet, with somebody gettin' hurt more or less. And blamed if I didn't hate
to see that spunky minister get mussed up, just for objectin' to takin'
the quiet run out. So I pushes to the front.

"Well, well!" says I, shovin' out a hand to the parson, as though he was
someone I'd been lookin' for. "So you showed up, eh?"