nd. For a second or
so I thought he wasn't goin' to take any notice; but after one more
failure he steps around, inspects the inside of the shanty, and then
squeezes himself through the door. At that, he wasn't all the way in,
but by the time he had a match goin' I'd got my nerve back.

"Ah, take the limit, Cap'n," says I.

With that I plants one foot impulsive right where he was widest, gives a
quick shove, slams the door shut behind him, and snaps the big padlock
through the hasp.

"Hey!" he sings out startled. "What the----"

"Now, don't get messy, Cap'n," says I. "You're in, ain't you? Smoke up
and be happy."

"You--you loafer!" he gurgles throaty. "What do you mean?"

"Just a playful little prank, Cap," says I. "Don't get excited. You're
perfectly safe."

Maybe he was. But some folks don't appreciate little attentions like
that. The Cap'n starts in bumpin' and thrashin' violent in there, like a
pup that's crawled into a drainpipe and got himself stuck. He hammers on
the walls with his fists, throws his weight against the door, and tries
to kick his way out.

But the section boss must have used rail spikes and reinforced the
studdin' with fishplates when he built that coop for Danny, or else the
big Hun was too tight a fit to get full play for his strength. Anyway,
all he did was make the little house rock until you'd thought Long
Island was enjoyin' a young earthquake. Meanwhile I stands by, ready to
do a sprint if he should break loose, and offers more or less cheerin'
advice.

"Easy with your elbows in there, Cap," says I. "You're assaultin'
railroad property, you know, and if you do any damage you can be pinched
for malicious mischief."

"You--you better let me out of here quick!" he roars. "I gotta get
back."

"Oh, you'll get to town all right," says I. "I'll promise you that."

"Loafer!" he snorts.

"Say, how do you know I ain't sensitive on that point?" says I. "You
might hurt my feelin's."

"Gr-r-r!" says he. "I would wring your neck."

"Such a disposition!" says I.

Oh, yes, we swapped quite a little repartee, me and the Cap'n, or
whatever he was. But, instead of his bein' soothed by it he gets more
strenuous every minute. He had that shack rockin' like a boat.

Next thing I saw was one of his big feet stickin' out under the bottom
sill. Then I remembers that the sentry-box has only a dirt floor--on
account of the stove, I expect. Course Danny has banked the outside up
with sod for f